In the Morning Paper Tim Bellows you read about research on degrees of violence - mothers at home all day take a belt to daughters.
Police stamp in and measure the levels of shame, jot a reading on lawlessness and trembling.
I mean the sadness - documented, easy. We drift and see a meadow, thick with aspen light. No innocence anywhere. No guilt anywhere. Only robed scribes with low eyes staring right through the soft invisible.