58: Sketch

He who controls the past controls the future. The present is only a sliver of eternity, a hinge in transition, where it is always possible to rewrite our history of sacrifices and derisions in hopes of a tomorrow of exuberance and freedom. Yesterday, the unbetrayable glory of prophets and martyrs. Today, the bigwig messiah. Tomorrow, the anonymous legion of Homo Revolucionaris. And in this permanent kinetics, the lives of five or fifteen or who knows how many generations already evaporated. Their biographies are diluted in the mass. They were even less than a brick in the wall: a scratch on the collective graffiti, a patriot pixel, a bit of barbarism, sub-elementary particles of this Big Bang called the Revolution.