There is nowhere to begin but in the middle. We are thrown into this ongoing world. In youth it seems to be just beginning, building up to some sacred purpose. We are imbued with the innocence of possibility. Slowly, subtly the unspoken truth dawns on us. Something has gone wrong. We must choose sides — no, it is too late, the sides have been chosen for us. A line in the sand was drawn long ago and it can never be undrawn. We can no longer see it, though many claim to know its location.
It is this line that oppresses us. History is the original sin. Irreversible and irresistible, the past determines the present.
It is not your fault. Yet you must be held responsible.
Into the ulterior 
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