Were the disappeared ever real at all?
It is said
women give [and give and give]
voice and expression
to the oppressed.
I find a hunger in my belly for
something of substance. Of value.
That tastes like it smells
and hurts like it bleeds.
For reality, for honesty, for truth.
http://ieatstars.deviantart.com/art/Ensenada-79858801
I find you raw and antagonistically inviting. I must read and read and read. I must feel through what you felt, know what you once knew, cry what you once cried.
Live where you once Lived.
What draws us to the horrors of the world? Like an ambulance at a car crash; we can't help but look. But how much do we want to See?
Peace
Mandy
