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  Yesterday I visited the birthplace of Sandino in Nicaragua: Niquinohomo. Yo soy del pueblo que un niño en Niquinohomo soñó. Soy del pueblo de Sandino y Benjamín Zeledón —Yo soy de un pueblo sencillo, by Luis Enrique Mejía Godoy (see the complete lyrics and my translation below)   Benjamín Zeledón’s fortress —the political prison We

It was so nice to hear back from you! Don’t apologize. I don’t hold grudges for people taking long to reply. Mostly because I can understand perfectly how it is to look at that email and say: I’ll answer properly later [time goes by FAST] —oops, now it’s too late. Honestly I don’t feel like an extraordinary person

Poverty anywhere is poverty everywhere.* Why is that? Why are other people’s problems my problems? Are we all together in this? How can we be together in this if I don’t know who they are, why are we here? If I can’t feel them as I can feel my body. Do my toenails know about