I'm A Writer Obsessed With Remembering, With

Because Every Single One Of Us Has Something To Say To The Others, Something That Deserves To Be Celebrated Or Forgiven By Others

And One Fine Day The Goddess Of The Wind Kisses The Foot Of Man, That Mistreated, Scorned Foot, And From That Kiss The Soccer Idol Is Born. He Is Born In A Straw Crib In A Tin-roofed Shack And He Enters The World Clinging To A Ball.

The Human Murder By Poverty In Latin America Is Secret: Every Year, Without Making A Sound, Three Hiroshima Bombs Explode Over Communities That Have Become Accustomed To Suffering With Clenched Teeth.

I Don't Believe In Charity. I Believe In Solidarity.

Human Rights Pale Beside The Rights Of Machines. In More And More Cities, Especially In The Great Metropolises Of The South, People Have Been Banned. Automobiles Usurp Human Space, Poison The Air, And Frequently Murder The Interlopers Who Invade Their Conquered Territory -and No One Lifts A Finger To Stop Them. Is There A Difference Between Violence That Kills By Car And That Which Kills By Knife Or Bullet?" (p.231)