kings without kingdom

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Until the day comes and they have nowhere to celebrate their graduation because a war has destroyed their kingdoms, their institutions

The heir will graduate next week. Negra has me, who at this point still doesn’t know what she’s going to wear to the ceremony. Able to appear in tracksuit. “It doesn’t matter, Mother, don’t worry about chuminás,” he tells me.

For once he is right: blessed are those who care for vain, chumineras. Maybe the same ones other kids had a few months ago: choosing the color of the dress, finding matching high heels, trying on intricate hairstyles, putting on a suit jacket, learning to tie a tie. Everything to feel like kings and queens for a day. Until the day comes and they have nowhere to celebrate their graduation because a war has destroyed their kingdoms, their institutions. But they overcome, unwilling to give up what was rightfully theirs, disguised themselves to be photographed in the ruins of their domains. And there they are, dazzling with the insulting beauty of their youth and with an even more beautiful dignity.

After the first alarm, and after successive waves of indignation and solidarity, we have, shamefully, become accustomed to the horror that others are for. We saw the disaster and the suffering, we regretted it for a moment and ate on, because for the price of sole you should not let it get cold. And so it has been until the images of Ukrainian students dancing among the rubble, posing on a tank, bravely in front of schools without walls or roofs, jumped out at us. Then we realized it could be our children, and our bones and souls have shrunk, and the fish has remained cold. Listen, let him go to graduation whenever he wants.

Source: La Verdad

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