(italic_)“Maycomb townspeople are no more capable of fairness than a man is capable of lifting himself up by his own bootlaces.”(_italic) Jem once said, echoing Vladmir Lenin.

Now, after his death, her children raced through their uncle’s house, exploring the now empty treasure trove – a world of surreal beauty Jem had created through words and pictures that he had found so lacking in Maycomb’s world. Walking through it, Scout found it not unlike Mrs Dubose’s house so many years ago, complete with a garden of white Snow-on-the-Mountain. Perhaps, it was an effort to preserve the Maycomb he knew before Tom’s trial.

Years later, at an exhibition of Jem’s works, whites and Negroes alike flocked to marvel at his skill and the force of will behind his words and brushstrokes. Scout looked at the crowd, with her own children playing tag in it, and whispered, “You’re only half right.”