When I was born, they had already decided how I should be, what I must do, what I had to believe, how I was going to dress, to speak, to smile, to walk, to look... They designed a world to turn me into a sheep, a good and obedient sheep, a beautiful and traditional sheep. They drafted glorious declarations of honour and dignity to dress up the slavery in which all the sheeps were going to live. The sheeps were born, grew up, worked, married, had children, got old and finally died. The sheeps only thought to unwind from their tedious lives. Their thoughts were tolerated if they were silent and quiet. The sheeps were allowed to enjoy culture and arts if they priorized the needs of the productive system. There were big stadiums where the sheeps were able to shout and scream like crazy beings to unwind from their apparent empty lives.
Sometimes some sheeps were different. Sometimes some sheeps were black. Sometimes some sheeps were not like they were supposed to be. Everybody needs a little bit of freedom sometimes, but some sheeps need to be free always. The rulers of the society said that those sheeps were like cancerous cells, because society needs the self-deny of every sheep to achieve greater goals, but those sheeps said that they were no tools of a greater being but already great beings. They said that every sheep is a goal itself, and that nobody should treat any sheep as if it was a cell or a tool. These sheeps lived trying to do what they liked to do, and... even though they tried to earn a livelihood for their children and to improve their world... they also said that they had been born to be free and to create.