Justice is a cockroach.
<p>You come to this world thinking there will be blacks and whites, don’t you? One line separating the wrongs from the rights? You come to this world thinking that; and then one day, color happens. You meet the greens, the reds, the blues and the grays; you walk and walk, and discover orange.</p>
<p>With all this color now, with all the blurred lines, you think more. What is justice? If there is no line, what do you do about the right when you feel wronged? These little acts that aren’t really crimes, under which sky do you distinguish the blacks from the whites? And how do you do that, when you now understand colour, when you have met all the shades of greys and brights?</p>
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