fragment of a slave’s story

The life I lived, I cannot claim as my own. Being born into a penniless, connectionless family assures that more soul-damaging than uncertain ownership of the scavenged shoes on your feet, is the reality that the only thing that could ever be yours, solely yours, is the body you possess. But even this knowledge cracks under the pressure of years lived, revealing it to be part-myth, part-lie. One day you wake up to the pain of yesterday’s lashes and realize that even your body is something you can never fully claim. And so, the story I tell is not my story.

~ by translating for peas on October 18, 2009.

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