One of the icons of a country that in the 60s was shaking off pain and rubble and wanted to smile is 84 years old: her story began on a battered bike and continued at Madison Square Garden
The frontier people hold on to that identity with which History repeatedly plays dice; as if the destinies of men weren’t involved; the days of their lives that no one will give them back; the crumbling walls of their houses; their makeshift luggage set up with that remnant of heart that beats in their throat before escaping. The frontier people know what it means to live in that no man’s land where the wrong of those whom history has condemned ends and for a while, but just enough for the pain of the peoples, the reason explained in the books of those who ‘will learn without the distinctions and nuances of the truth. And you end up taking the borders inside you; precisely because since you were born to when you grow up they have changed in the meantime: someone will have managed to pass them, someone else will have suffered them; still others will have been swallowed up.
