Sgt Antonio Espera gazes out over the barren desert, years-old charred skeletons of dozens of US tanks stretch a few hundred yards into the distance.
"People been fighting over this bitch since ancient times, dawg.
How many graves we standing on? Think about all the wisdom and science and
money and civilization it took to build these machines.
And the courage of all the men who came here, and the love of their wives
and children that was in their hearts... And all that hate, dawg.
All the hate it took to blow these motherfuckers away.
It's destiny, dawg.
White man's gotta rule the world."
Humans fight for a stake, for permanence; land, money, reputation, honour, civil rights. Let us never go back to what we once were. Governments, gangsters, enemies, friends, brothers, movie stars, rock stars, writers, cowboys, aliens, heroes and lovers. The tide always wants more shore.
Jealousy of every stripe influences the things we take from each other. Someone always has what we want. And there's always blood on the ground, leading a trail back to the doorstep of our innocence. Enough to show us just how far we've come.
The World Is Yours Ours.
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