When Munch was a boy, freedom was a potato. It was you didn't get killed today. Freedom from hunger, from the rusty blade. But to free himself, the man ate first so others could not. He killed before he was killed. He wanted nothing more because only kings had the freedom to want. But now everywhere you look, you see kings. Everything they want, they call their own, and if they cannot have it, they say that they are not free. They even pretend their freedom should be free, that it has no cost, but the cost is always death. Life for life. Me or you.
Please. I don't understand. Why are you here? What do you want?
Pancakes.
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