Mother stands for love.
Mother stands for tranquillity.
Mother stands for friendship.
Mother stands for redemption.

Why do I describe my mother? Why do I choose these words?
Perhaps I have lacked something.
Perhaps it is yearning,
Or something that was never expressed.
Perhaps it is too late to express it.

The beginning of my childhood:
What do I remember?
I remember nothing,
Except pain and inner devastation.

When we speak of childhood,
We think of a sweet smile,
Like an opening bud,
That slumbers in a person’s innermost place.
But it was not like that for me.

In my childhood there were no toys, not even a plastic ball.
My childhood was ruled by a cruel man.
I was the only survivor of my family.
Loneliness was my only inheritance, my constant companion.
More than everything else.
More than everything and everyone (people and also things).
For me, a life without childhood has no meaning,
Like honey without sweetness.
Every life has a beginning and a climax.
But the beginning of my childhood knew no childlike feelings.
When I speak of my childhood,
You might feel reminded of the life of a soldier.
I was in the service of a man of wealth,
A man with supposed ambition,
A man who exploited me.
There are children whose beds are made of peacock feathers.
And there is a child whose bed was the bare ground.
There are children who have the luxury of fighting for their ideals.
And there is a child who fought for his daily bread.