On the clothesline, I extend gratitude to the complicit eyes who have visited my yard over the years. I am grateful for the generosity of those who, in the letters and messages in which I have sewed my comfort and contentment, I will also rest in them for so long. I thank all those who made me into the word a bridge for honored encounters. To those who, unknowingly, took my seeds beyond my limited horizons, expanding into literary realms that we all walk through. I thank you all for allowing me to be a small translator of our immensity, confessional of the inner tides, an anonymous informer by the very storms that we have just celebrated by recognizing ourselves in the mirror of human equality. I thank those who know their names, those who do not know anything and who somehow have also crossed my path. I ask for forgiveness to all those who in my life by my words I have made them small, making me even smaller by this, hurting by what I should say when I said nothing or by the silence that should be the only one to be declared, but for pettiness I shut myself up.

May I be the noblest version of myself reflecting more on my virtues than my shadows, on the words that will still belong to me by the lines, my mouth and unconditional love that dwells in my soul.

Gratitude! Namaste…