Why, he asks of powers that be, was he made such a color that others might hate. On a hill in a nation on a planet in a galaxy far, far away a Celadon stomps feet and kills the green grass from which she is colored. Why, she shouts at the gods, must genetics bring such violence to her by fate. On a hill in a nation on a planet in a galaxy so very, very near a Native American an Irish girl an Aborigine man a Mexican a Cambodian join hands to celebrate who they are. They raise their joined hands and praise the powers that be for making them unique.
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