That passage has always resonated with me. As a Christian, it has often brought me back from the brink of the edge when I've thought that my Crusade against the tyranny of the Empire was lost. Dozens of times I've often thought that my hopes and goals were lost, that I couldn't do anything to free the downtrodden and lost women of the Empire.

I can feel my camera's lens click open and closed as I snap a shot of another Free Woman being punished for some transgression at her workplace. It was hardly as degrading as seeing the two girls the week before in Holetown, but the notion still pangs in my head. The idea that this is the norm...anywhere, is disgusting. It's almost like life went backwards ten thousand years in a blink of an eye. Images of FRA guerrillas being captured, caged, even tortured is the norm in this hellhole of a country.

My brain reels itself back to it's center, laying eyes on a woman, chained in the street. I know the risk. I know what will become of me if I'm caught. I don't care. As I feel my hand slide over the chain, I don't care. As the chain falls to the ground, I don't care, and as I slip into the alleyway with the girl, listening to her so-called Master scream and shout at the notion of a taken slave-girl...I don't care.

All I here is the song.