12015-12-12T20:09:56-08:00Emelie Chhangur2d057680e6c2808d559b662d85db94eee62664f7711982nd paragraphplain2015-12-14T12:31:36-08:00Emelie Chhangur2d057680e6c2808d559b662d85db94eee62664f7Truth is, I genuinely feel sorry for him. Sorry that he can’t really see the truth concealed by the invisible clothes. Admittedly, it must have been a pretty curious sight for someone who didn’t know what they were looking at: a man, whom everyone calls “King,” stripped bare. Parading down the middle of the street with all the pomp and valour as if he were a military leader returning in triumph from war, naked. … With everyone celebrating his magnificent new clothes! Poor boy. Completely unaware that the scene unfolding before his unsuspecting eyes is really an intricately woven cover-up, designed to hide what was manufactured from nothing in the first place: unequivocal power. For the King’s nudity symbolizes something far more serious, sinister, and base: the unveiling not of the absence of the most beautiful clothes but the underlying presence of the truly ugly impulses of human nature laid bare. He’ll learn, in time. That’s another thing I feel sorry about. Sort of.
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12015-12-12T15:32:06-08:00Emelie Chhangur2d057680e6c2808d559b662d85db94eee62664f7A Wolf in Sheep's ClothingEmelie Chhangur10The Story of Anitra Hamilton's Sardonic Sartorialplain2015-12-14T12:29:26-08:00Emelie Chhangur2d057680e6c2808d559b662d85db94eee62664f7
