Oceania...What a 'lovely' country. Feeling, expressing yourself, even talking of such normal things is forbidden, forgotten. You cannot act. You cannot show. You should stay hidden. You should stay behind the curtains. Away from the telescreens - as if it was possible. You couldn't even look in a certain direction more than a second, or they would suspect you. Thinking? Thinking was a crime. You cannot think. Thoughtcrime, in other words. Anything you utter out above a really low whisper would be picked up by the telescreens, and they would overanalyze it. You were constantly watched, listened, followed. The history, the past was changed. Twisted. Lost. The information was far from misinformantion, so far that it was a new form of informarion itself. It would be released, and if it turns out to be wrong, every single piece of paper about it would be burnt to ashes, replaced by the new, right ones, but the 'wrong' would be the right, and the 'right' would be a complete lie. Big Brother, Big Brother is always watching you. And so he watches all of us, including him. Putting aside the terrible drink which they call 'coffee', he headed out of his decaying apartment, heading to the Records Department, to the building of Ministry of 'Truth', where they twisted every single piece of truth they hold in their hands just to create a whole new reality for all those millions of people and hold them under their hands. Walking and walking, time ticking away...And it came to Two Minutes Hate. Everyone took their seats, and there you came...You took a seat next to him, and he bat his eye on you for a brief moment, before returning his eyes to the screen. And there he came, Emmanuel Goldstein...The two minutes, and the hours, and the days flowed like waves on the ocean and one day, when he went to the antique dealer he used to frequent quite a lot, he found you again.

"You..."