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The Marble Tomb to Crown Life It was caused by nothing, aimed at nothing but popular outrage. Frustration, discontent, unrest…- all these offsprings of the disabled single party rule are now issuing their pervasive yells all around the new and the same old country caught up in complex implications of its discarded but thoroughly tenacious past. The unknown present day breaks in upon the petrifications of what has been sanctified by the multitudes of the ever-marching purple, red, bloodstained, bleeding banners now carried high by the staunch advocates of the good old totalitarian days. Their lofty calls seem to fail to chime with the somewhat less lofty cries of those butchered in Stalin’s prison cells, now wafted to the marchers’ ears from the cells of their own lingering memories… The marching former convicts crave for Stalin whose much lamented death let them out of the prison cells but buried them in those of their wounded souls… Are these parading relics just the guns Stalin triggers off from under his marble tomb? The marchers never question. They are called up from the past and are here to obey.
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