Hysteria, the impenetrable inheritance; the fire they have tried to put out for years. The desperation in our voices for those who remained silent, for those whose fear was turned into conviction. Rebellion, that flame they ALWAYS try to extinguish, the improper violence, because (“there are other ways”). The constant fight; daily battles, invisible wounds, scars with names and stories, hands raised to the sky, lifted for those who never got to fly. What we carry in our blood; the heat of a thousand bonfires, the pulse still burning of those who made history tremble to rewrite it anew, with that rage, with that love.
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