Pool_2

>> Break Out << (Vi et animo, the past, 1967)

From the west, crossing the Pacific to become a citizen of the United States of America, Joseph Stalin's daughter sought the very place where blacks had had enough. Newark, Detroit and Cleveland were in flames. The citizenry, which had always given knee jerk consent to its leaders in matters of war was, at this point, now unconvinced. Did Vietnam have relevance to anything but Vietnam itself? Enough youths had taken to the streets to force a choice. An older more trusting population had to decide whether the cost, war on its own young, was any longer justified regardless of what the truth might be. Change everywhere - as always - pulsed. North, DeGaulle publicly urged Quebec to free itself of Canada. South, in an arena almost synonymous with change, if not flat out turmoil, Che Guevara was now dead. A change in change? East, Israel lashed out in open warfare at an Arab military coalition. Chaos. North, south, east west, what did you expect? Statues? Even the stone icons of once immortal gods have lost their limbs, oh, yeah those too. But up close, change, as we perceive it, is just the constant flow of time relative to a perceived stability, heritage. Heritage, legacy, birthright, heirship, ancestry. Roots. Stability. But heritage in a place like Ulster, Britain's personal ass wipe for the last 800 years? Where native language and names were suppressed? Where history as a subject was forbidden? You can also ban taking a piss, but where does that go? Populations flow in waves over and around wading encroachers who erect No Trespass signs in someone else's tide. The bobbing rank and file know their past. It's their blood.