Terça-feira, 11 de Abril de 2017

The Question

 

It was night and we were drinking in the garden by the church.

I looked at my friend and asked him,

- “Di, are you always aware that you’re black?”

- “No, not really. Sometimes I think about it if someone is snippy with me in a bar,

or on the street … people looking at you funny, know what I mean”?

- “Yeah”

- “Then I think, are they like this because I’m black? But you don’t know.

Not really.

It can be for so many reasons… yeah, but I think about it.”

 

I drank my beer, he smoked his blunt. And we talked about something else.

 

 

 

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publicado por Aurea Mediocritas às 12:15
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