Prison Diary XXXI: My World on a Little Piece of Paper / Angel Sangtiesteban
Posted on June 26, 2013
Every morning, on waking up, surrounded by inmates surprised by my "good
mornings" to which they respond with commitment, and then I entrust
myself to God, I immerse myself in a blank piece of paper, because I
feel I am just an instrutment, someone who takes dictation, His
creation. I comes so naturally that I underestimate the physical
exercise I do.
From that moment, my country is the white space where I scribble in a
supreme intent to transmit my feelings. Then, the universe is reduced to
these centimeters of possible writing. It is the space which is my duty
and governs me.
And I immerse myself in my work, in this obligation to my thinking, my
feelings and my ideals. Like a hermit, I abandon the hostile environment
that surrounds me, I work tirelessly for human betterment, for the
freedom of Cubans facing a harsh dictatorship, and if possible, to add
some literature valid for my generation and my time.
And I laugh at the constant surveillance, their informers, their
unscrupulous persecution, their blackmail, their pressures and their
punishments, because I'm not on their level of reality, across time, and
by then, bareback in the redemptive Cuban jungle, feeling the sweat on
the back of my horse, the weight of the machete I hold and squeeze,
while the trumpet sounds the Call to Slaughter.
Ángel Santiesteban Prats
24 June 2013
Source: "Prison Diary XXXI: My World on a Little Piece of Paper / Angel
Sangtiesteban | Translating Cuba" -