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“Morning, white man”

“Morning, white man”

They, like you, begin to take steps in an unknown land, a world to discover, a universe of possibilities. Lives that move in parallel and sometimes intersect. Roots that feed on the same land but reflect different things. Small eyes that tell great stories.

One of them plays to be higher, dance turning in a pole making the garden a big stage, and although she’s alone she does as if it had a huge audience applauding her, and during breaks draws with chalk on the wall his imaginary world. The other one wants to play as a child, but she has had to be higher and she leaves the crayons and doll in a corner to take care of the smallest sister and doing housework.

She is the exception that proves the rule, comes with confidence, smiles and asks you. But he is not able to look into your eyes more than a second, distrust and timidity hide under a blonde hair with dark skin.

He plays with a new ball that share with you, not knowing that, on the same beach, just a few meters, another one makes his slingshot with a branch and a piece of elastic, playing knock down bottles.

He looks to the horizon, no matter what happens around, not caring that you’re next, looking to the horizon wanting to go beyond, eyes who dream of discovering. She, however, doesn’t look so far, look what has closer and forget everything else looks at you, intense and challenging, not afraid of anything or anyone, and with a comb that holds her hair is able to capture the attention of any lens.

He cares, walks with a knife in the hands without any intention, ignoring the danger and reflecting the wilder side, the same primitive side that makes him aware of his sister and protect her. She, in her nakedness with bare feet, has no worries and only knows that nothing will happen if her brother, who makes her laugh as he strokes her hair, is her side.

They play together in the water, and although they share laughter and bathe in the same river, his wet clothes reveal the difference in their lives, are day and night, one with light hair as the sun, daughter of sea and networks, and one with hair as dark as night, daughter of jungle and towering palms.

He looks at you with indifference, seems even your presence bothers him, you are an enemy on his land. But he wants to meet, sits next to you, seems even imitates you, wants to be like you, who would like to paint into white his blacker world, and discover what lies beyond the borders.

Eyes that convey a way of being and live that goes far beyond the frozen instant. The reflection of a life and a feeling through some glances; innocent, timid, defiant, suspicious, accomplices, mesmerizing, wild; looks full of hope beginning to discover the world; stories with designation of origin. Those are just some stories that tell you their eyes, those of smaller, that every morning greets you with a “morning, white man”.8

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About Jose

A passport that adds something more than just a label, a new adventure. A backpack that every time arrives fuller of experiences and learning. With eyes open as coconuts to dive and feed on new realities and, of course, always ready to expect the unexpected. ................................................................................................................................................................. Un pasaporte que suma algo más que un simple sello, una nueva aventura. Una mochila que cada vez regresa más llena de experiencias y aprendizaje. Con los ojos abiertos como cocos para sumergirme y alimentarme de nuevas realidades y, por supuesto, siempre preparado para esperar lo inesperado.

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