He would look at you silently going here and there, stare at you. He did not even want to touch you with those fingers. What a pity that our elders forcibly gave birth to us in this coal mine. We were also forced to give birth to you in this coal mine. Going around and around in the whirlpool of history, a person is caught in the geography of borders against his will or natural inclination.
History survives in a reaction to the tragic destruction wrought by time.
Man has no control over all this. But the geography of unarmed and oppressed nations is imposed upon and altered by more powerful nations. In our history we were made to play the role of war horses. There is blood under our hooves and we are being exhausted in the slowly narrowing geographical boundaries, drained of life and falling down. Even today when I close my eyes and try to recall, the little remembrances of your childhood come to me with bitterness.