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Transcripción
00:00I have carried stories across the ocean and across my own skin and I heard Audre Lorde say
00:16there are no new pains, we have felt them all already. But this one was new to me.
00:25Never have I felt my body so real before I met this grief.
00:30Before I saw her leave. And now a dream pulls me there. It's not cerebral, rather fleeting stirrings,
00:41mysterious workings, movement of curiosity, medicine of theory. Grief became a compass.
00:52It brought me to the stone walls of St. Paul de Valls,
00:54where James Baldwin's grief took him decades earlier. To finally build home space, held together by paper,
01:04paper, love, memory. Who is allowed to put down roots? Whose home is only temporarily tolerated?
01:13The glass hammer echoes it into words. Grief is the price of love. And Jill shows me it's love that holds archive.
01:25Somewhere between the archive and the pulse inside my constricted chest, I remember belonging,
01:33building, paving my way home, through research, through instinct, through feeling,
01:42they're singing a new movement song.
01:56To be continued...
01:57To be continued...
01:59To be continued...

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