Jonathan Wilk:
Your Honor, I can only think now of taking these two boys, 18 and 19, penning them in a cell. Checking off the days and hours and minutes, until their wakened in the gray of the morning and led to the scaffold, their feet tied, black caps drawn over their heads, stood on a trap, the hangman pressing the spring. I can see them fall through a space. I can see them - stopped by the rope around their necks. It would be done, of course, in the name of justice. Justice. Who knows what it is? Do I know? Does Your Honor know? Can Your Honor tell me what I deserve? Can Your Honor appraise yourself and say what you deserve? Do you think you can cure the hatreds and maladjustments of the world by hanging them?
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 07:08
Consiglia
Voto
Nessun dato in archivio
Commenti
Nessun dato in archivio
