The blood of our people, our blood flows through generations, pushing, sometimes fertilizing, other rampaging … no dams to retain the life that comes to us through our ancestors. If pain makes me close my eyes, this only seems to stop, but the blood pushes deep, joins me and links me to all those who are gone. I can only watch, assent to what it was, recognize their pain and force, give them in myself their place of dignity, all in all. And I, in my small now, just be part of that clan, humbly bowing to those who already lived their lives, accepting mine and thus freeing up a bit more, those who have come to life through me, after me.
