These tweets are a part of the same story. I had an idea to tell a story a little bit of a time like pieces of a puzzle. Except this puzzle is all jumbled up and there is no picture on the box. We'll see how it goes.
Tears were streaming down my face. "It's too late, " I realized. The crowds cheered as the army stomped into the city as if in a parade. "Our country ends not in cries of sadness but those of joy."
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Who is he? I studied him as he stood facing the window. He appeared as a shadow in the midst of the blood red sunset looming outside.
Some say a mad man. Others say a hero.
Which is the truth?
He turned, noticed me staring, and smiled.
“Ready?”
I nodded and took his arm.
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"He's not who you think he is," the man whispered to me. "He has done terrible things."
The words pricked my skin.
"He has helped so many people in poverty," I rebutted.
The old man poignantly held my gaze with his watery pale blue eyes.
"Which people?"
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