the terrorists for rachel cory and all those who were idealists and who actually believed that they could make an effect and social change. the terrorists who lives amongst us is not you, the terrorist who lurks in the shadows of our crowded city streets isn't me. he's not a demon with bulging eyes, a twisted mouth full of dirt, a crooked mouth, fangs driping blood. it's not the savage guner waiting for our school on their way to school. no, this heinous replica of satan doesn't look like a jew. dopt make a habit of supplying the motives of sin with colors of skin because it's skin deep. a student with dreams of statehood or a teenage girl driven by desperation and fear or a dentist or an apprentice of a dead soldier, who crouches in the wounds of the dead and the dying, who hurls stones at tanks and encroaching soldiers, who stands unmoved before a roiling tank, who stares with barbed eyes. the enemy is never one who kills for no reason. the enemy is never one who must be vanquished at all cost. it is not so easy to kill from the inside, a shifting corridor of blame. not so easy to trace