Kiss from Dura

The hidden flowers of streets of London 1987.

“The muslim women like the poems just few people can understand their world..they're like roses, because they have two predictable sides: if there're better days, they'll blossom, but if they've to fight they can make revolution..”

It's fine to die, once, our hands crossed on our chests empty and pale with no scratches, no chains, no banners, and no petitions.

It's fine to have an undustful death, no holes in our shirts, and no evidence in our ribs.

It's fine to die, with a white pillow, not the pavement, under our cheeks, our hands resting in those of our loved ones surrounded by desperate doctors and nurses, with nothing left but a graceful farewell, paying no attention to history, leaving this world as it is, hoping that, someday, someone else will change it.