Day 2

Mrs. Parsons is old... or well looks the part. Her children playing amongst themselves, shouting "thought-criminal", "spy", "traitor", and "Goldstein"; who is this Goldstein? Were these children on to me? No, their only children. The hanging... the good-old days, with the weekly hanging. Oh how I miss childhood. Poor Mrs. Parsons, living a life of terror with those reckless children- no behavior or manners what-so-ever. This community... smells of such great cabbage. Oh so poor. Newspeak and Ingsoc... why? why were they here? thought-crime... why? I do not understand. "War is peace, freedom is slavery, ignorance is strength... War is peace, freedom is slavery, ignorance is strength..." Ministry of Truth, where did they get this? Oh Big Brother, what have I done to deserve your deadly gaze... I write to the past and to the future, where things were different, where people were different, where the society was different, where rights are different. All of my thought-crimes, I imagine every waking moment of my life, am I to be dead? Am I already dead? What is this madness?...