People are protesting silently, black cloth over their mouths. Others are watching the TV on mute to avoid thinking about their own suffocation. Today, I opened my mouth only to find that a piece of cloth had fallen down into my throat and I could not speak. There is a horror to walking down the street and seeing your executioner in the notches of someone’s spine, there is a horror to a friend who hugs you so tightly you forget how to tell yourself to breathe. There is cloth everywhere, and when I open my mouth to speak there is a mute button.