A crushed identity, a story told by those who have never lived it! I am Africa!
I am Egypt and its pyramids, I am Congo and its wealth, I am Mandela and his courage, I am Rwanda and its thousand hills, I am Burundi and its drums, I am Soundjata Keita and the Mandingue epic, I am Maya Angelou, Oprah, Martin Luther King, Rosa Parks, Obama and their ancestors!
Written by Umutoniwase Aliane.
Madrid isn’t just a capital city. It’s a blend of blazing sunshine, lively squares, majestic palaces, and… a legendary stadium that makes my heart race: the Santiago Bernabéu.
For four days, I wandered its streets, strolled through Parque del Retiro at sunrise, felt the thrill inside the Real Madrid trophy room, admired the sunset at the Temple of Debod, and got lost in the elegance of Plaza Mayor.
Each place showed me a different side of the city: royal history at the Royal Palace, the buzzing nightlife at Puerta del Sol, the calm of its gardens, the fever of football… Madrid surprised me with its diversity and its warm atmosphere.
In this article, I’ll take you along with me, sharing personal anecdotes, practical tips, and my favourite moments to help you plan your own trip to Spain’s capital.
Serve one's dignity? No, never!
Dear freedom, I would have liked you to give me the note before I undertook this journey!
As a child, I had a free mind even in confinement from certain rules, even in the drama of my story.
As a teenager, I quickly found that the free and creative mind must shrink or even be silent to listen to the rules of survival!
Adult and aware of this renunciation, I experienced it very badly,
My heart, this real machine of alternative proposals found me a parade,
Tired of running and talking in vain, he opted for obedience,
Disunderstood, he decided to keep his convictions quiet
Manhandled, he decided to clean up what was once his dreams!
Having no more dreams, he sank into solitude!
Aware of the lightness of life, he turned to poetry!
The quest for freedom is full of ambiguity, bitterness, pitfalls and ambushes!
The quest for this precious character is made of many things, small details and nuances!
Wise are those who know how to refuse this mistreatment of loving beings and this malevolence of controlling beings!
Sage is the one who goes to conquer, with an awareness of the difficulties that will be served to him!
Freedom is precious! You have to look for it relentlessly and once found, you have to welcome it, pick it and make it spring all around!
Ooooh dear freedom can you let me choose you? I promise to tell my evils so that they do not pursue me anymore, I promise to serve your cause out of conviction and not out of terror or fidelity of deeply fallible beings!
Dear freedom, I would have liked you to give me the note, you preferred that goes to the checkout, once the trip is over so I understood that no matter the path I will take, no matter the choice, it will always be necessary to make a decision involving you or denying you.
By choosing you, I will always belong! At this price we are gone! Nothing beats a free soul! Even in the winter of the event, she knows how to find the trees to make the fire, she knows how to hibernate to return to the spring of life!
On Father’s Day, I wanted to write to the man who taught me love, trust, respect, and the quiet certainty that he would always be there.
Tonight, I offer you a heart of blood,
A heart of us.
An open heart,
A heart that desires nothing but to beat,
That aspires to nothing but to love,
A heart that refuses to turn to stone,
A heart burning with love.
There are days when life slips through our fingers, when everything seems to fall apart.In those moments, the words of others become shelters, their silences become refuge.This text was born from such moments when fear takes over, when exhaustion overwhelms, and yet a voice, a glance, or a helping hand quietly rekindles hope.It began as…
I learned, later, with disapproval,
that the fleeting nature of beauty
is not a reason to turn away from it.
Quite the opposite.
It is because beauty fades
that we must look at it,
see it while it still lives in us,
cherish it before it slips away.
Love ourselves at every age.
Sometimes for our shapes.
Sometimes for our light.
Sometimes for what we radiate.
Sometimes for what our bodies carry,
what they survive.
She used to tell me:
“Beauty is fleeting.”
And now I tell myself:
“Beauty is what it is.”
And if I must choose
between the ignorance of what I might have savored
and the soft betrayal of an inheritance born of fear,
then I choose to learn how to see.Because maybe if I train my eyes to love,
my heart will know how to remember
even when the body has spent its time,
when the color has faded,
and the skin bears the lines
of years crossed
with or without grace,
but always with trace.
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