There are some little stories worth carrying around with you in a diary or journal or some place so that they can accompany you in life. This is one of those, for me.
Eduardo Galeano (my translation), written while he was in exile:
I chase the enemy voice that has ordered me to be sad. Sometimes I take for granted that happiness is a crime of high treason and that I’m guilty of the privilege of being alive and free.
So its good for me to remember what the indigenous chief Huillca in Peru said, speaking among the ruins, “They came here and they even broke the rocks. They wanted to make us disappear, but they haven’t managed to, because we are still alive and that is the main thing.”
And I think that Huillca was right. To be alive is a small victory. To be alive, that is, to be capable of happiness, despite the goodbyes and the crimes, so that the exile can be testimony of another possible country. …And we won’t build it out of bricks of shit. Can we be useful … if we are broken? Happiness takes more courage than sorrow, but in the end we are accustomed to sorrow.