I’m black first.. my sympathies are black, my allegiance is black, my whole objectives are black… I am not interested in being American, because America has never been interested in me.

Malcolm X


Eventually you can breathe again. It’s all yours. Every part of you rebuilt. The pain is gone. The hole is mostly filled. Memories have become a story you tell yourself, of a time when life was of a different style.

But there’s always that one song. The one that makes your blood pump fast. You close your eyes. The warmth of a time long gone, be it pleasure or pain, temporarily consumes.

Art is intoxicating.

It is though.