"Those were some preciously pretty words you spoke, how long have you been working at that?" she asked, draping herself over a window ledge.
"Awhile." I answer.
"They won't remember, you must realize, crowds feed off excitement, not words."
"I'm well aware of that fact. But, my dear Lust, I did not intend to give them words, I wanted to give them a dream."
She is quiet, and a small smile plays across her lips.
"Dreams can become nightmares."
"And you must realize, Lust, that dreams can also become nations."
Lust falls silent. I turn to her, give her my own little smile, and return to work.