In my country we all
struggled it was not

voluntary. I didn’t
give the city up;

I was the city, I lived
in cars, I made new family

out of strangers. We felt
so urgently a struggle,

we were the rocks
who shouted, who threw

themselves at the army.
It wasn’t simple, our lives,

but how we met
was simple as holding

someone, all of us
knives looking for hands.