miercuri, 25 iunie 2014

Massacre of the Dreamers

Always coming back to my passions and staying true to myself. 

"I know you. You are Mexican (like me). You are brown-skinned (like me). You are poor (like me). You probably live in the same neighbourhood as I do. You don’t have anything, own anything. (Neither do I). You’re no one (here). At this moment I don’t want to be reminded of this, in the midst of such luxury, such wealth, this disorienting language; it makes me ashamed of the food I eat, the flat I live in, the only clothes I can afford to wear; the alcoholism and defeat I live with. You remind me of all that. You remind me that I am not beautiful – because I am short, round bellied and black-eyed. [...] When I see you, I see myself. You are the mirror of this despicable, lowly sub-human that I am in this place far from our homeland which scarcely offered us much more since the vast majority there live in destitution. [...] But don’t look at me. Go on your way. Let me go on pretending my invisibility, so that I can observe close up all the possibilities – and dream the gullible dreams of a human being." (Massacre, 25-6)