what is freedom,such a vague question.I could say the desert,or the mountains.Silence and the book
of my choice.A candid conversation with a beloved friend.
Or freedom from oppressing forces,spiritual freedom.
Ive lived with freedom for so long I feel as if
my observations fall oh so short.
Once while in Kortrijk Belgium I met a cuban,nice fella.Upon learning my nationality(American)he
spent the rest of the night(drinking at the bar)trying to convince me that he was not my enemy
that in fact he had defected and we could be friends.
I dont think he could quite grasp the fact that I never was his enemy or never wanted to be.
Though I told him repeatedly,somewhere along the way someone convinced him of what
Americans are.It left me with a sadness which i could never explain.
All thats left for me to say on the subject is,he was damn glad
to be as far from cuba as he could get.