It all started in Venice. The land of canals. Well, it's really more like the sea of canals.

At the time, I was just 23, with a full head of filthy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. A spirit that said, I can do anything. And that's just what I did.

Not at first, obviously. That would come later. Before I could do anything, I had to do something. So, for the first time in my life, I did something, and that something just happened to be in Venice.

It was a crisp fall morning the day I set out to do something. The sun was peeking through cumbersome clouds and the sky was a dull gray. The silent whisper of rushing waves slapped the morning silence with the viciousness of an ex-military officer preparing for duty. The murmur of talk swayed with the lackluster waves, bubbling with praise and hope only to be struck down by the furious anticlimactic brushing against stone.

It was my third week in Venice, third week in Europe for that matter, and I had decided to do something. Why? I don't know. It just felt right. I've spent so much time not doing something that I figured it was time I finally do something. What that something was, I didn't yet know. But life has a way of shifting perspective in a not-so subtle way, and I was soon to envy fate.

I have never been one much for envy, especially as a kid. But on this day, a rare occasion if there ever was, I was more than envious, I was resolute. For the last 22 years I have watched others succeed beyond their limits and catastrophically envelope all that is possible. I have watched the greats fall and the meager rise. I've seen giants whisper and dwarfs strike. I'd seen anything and everything, and still I refused to act.

But, I told myself, there is always reason for the absurd. What we see as insane is only an illusion of our meager interpretation. A man labeled looney is a manner understood. All my life I had been that man. A freak. A nut job. A coo coo bird. But not anymore. No, today is the day, I told myself, and nothing will stop me.

So I packed my bags and wore my pack, thanked the lonely supervisor, and made may towards the canal.

Now, there are a lot of canals in Venice. Dare I say more canals than buildings. The entire is afloat upon a dastardly sea. It is more of a ship than a city, really. So to say I'm going to the canal can be a very confusing proposition. So let me explain.

Of all the canals in Venice, there is only one I truly admire. Though each and every waterway is a thrill at first sight, they soon become the norm, and not long after that, a tad irksome. It's not like I don't like the canals, their beautiful! It's just, well, Venice is a tourist city, and when you live in a tourist city, where your only mode of transportation is walking, it can become challenging.

Now I'm not one of those people that hates tourist or whatever, I myself was once a tourist. In fact, by most people's standards, I still am. No, what I despise about Venice is what I loathe of every big city: people forget how to walk.

Sure, this seems like a rather minute issue in the larger scheme of things, but when you spend a good majority of your day walking, it can become quite nostalgic.

Walking lets you clear your mind, open your head, and peer inside. Walking gets you from a to b without all that miscommunication nonsense and none of that dreadful sense of confusion. When you walk, you always know where you are, even when you don't. Walking is a sort of map building in a way. It structures the world in the most human of all endeavors, movement.

That's why I never go on boats. It's just so damn confusing. I mean, first of all, you got two boats on the same line. So if you get on the wrong one, not only are you screwed, but you're as screwed as screwed could be, because you're going in the opposite direction of your destination. And then there's the people.

It's not that I don't like people, quite the contrary. I find people a fascinating artifact of society and culture. Their things to be studied, understood, questioned. They are the true expression of life itself. Sure, art is nice and all, but art is just the expression of one human being at one particular time in one persons life. It has no meaning upon others.

Sure, you could extrapolate and assume and infer and all that. And sure, there are many who argue it is not the artist that matters but the feelings they provoke. And sure, art gives us a somewhat accurate portrayal of history. But at what cost?

I believe that when we force our own opinions upon another's work, we lose the true desire of the artist. Artists don't want to be understood and discussed and studied. No, no artist wants that. Artist want to invoke things, primal things. A pain in the gut, a scratch of the gullet, a wistful tear in long dried eyes, a meager warmth in a world gone cold. Artists don't want to be understood, they want to be felt.

But people, people are different. People don't care about feelings or emotions or any of that stuff. Don't get me wrong, people are real good at pretending, but no one actually cares. Not really, anyways. No, want people want is understanding. People want to be heard. People want to be acknowledge. People want to be understood.

And that's what I do. That's what I've always done. I've given people the opportunity to be heard. And so I have learned. I have learned people's beliefs, I have learned people's understandings. I have learned people's fears, I have learned people's acknowledgements. I have learned what people have learned, and learned what they refuse to understand. I was the speaker for the ignorant. I am the voice of the mute.

So with this knowledge, understanding really, I went to put it to use. Good use. Real use. Not like politicians who talk and talk and talk but never actually do. Like I said, I was out to do something. It was no longer just a game I toyed with. No, that day was the day I did something, and it was about time I did.

So I did. I did with the courage of strength and the strength of courage. I struck down abstinence in a moment of understanding and an eternity of being. I slapped ignorance with the knowledge of being and the belief of knowing. I stroked fear into the hearts of the brave and courage in the afraid. I made a difference for once in my life. For the first time in my life. The only time in my life.

So, your honor, I do not deny any of the claims made here today. I do not deny the testimonies given or the so called facts persuaded. I do not deny my assistance in the guilty nor my lack of any guilt. What happened had to happen, and I'm sorry people had to see it.

But I don't regret it, no, I certainly don't do that. What did happen must happen, and it certainly did. Sure, I pity the people and places and things, but I give no pity upon the crime itself, if it must be called that. The only thing I truly deny is the sentence which you argue to be so fair. No man should be punished for doing his duty, no matter how, gruesome the affair may be. It is my duty because it is no one else's, and I shall not be punished for my ambition. Can you blame me for wanting to make the world a better place?

Perhaps. Perhaps that's all life is. Just one big seam of judgement. We ignore what we fear and ignite what we don't understand. We set fire to the impossible for the impossible may one day be possible. And to accept such a thing is to deny all belief, all understanding, all knowledge. And while we humans may be creatures of great interest, we are not perfect. And in our imperfection Otis our true state of being.

A being of constant terror. A being of abhorrence to all and shame to none. A being of the greatest aptitude yet the weakest amplitude. We fear what we do not know, and despise what we must. Science is the ever evolving distrust of humanity, and now I'm upon the stool of distrust.

Whatever your punishment may be, make it swift. There's no reason to argue for logic in a land without sanity. I will not plead something I do not believe nor wish to understand. I will not persuade nor dissuade nor even wear any kind of suede. All I will do is accept the charges as they are, and inform you of their justness which we do not yet understand. Whether you will pity me or save me I do not know, nor do I care. I ask you simply to look from a view other than your own, any perspective which is not so uncannily yours. For once in your life, do something, anything. That's progress. That's evolution. Be something or be done. That's what I did.