Course VS. Course

 Course vs Course

It’s well known that we are all cursed since birth; as the result of a couple who showed us what we were capable of; and just like that; for suspicion, we ended up united by something: The original Sin.

But, in a planet divided even by the color of the air we breathe, where knowledge is power but more powerful is who knows how to use it. And where; as the goal is not equality, nor planet preservation and definitively not hunger eradication. ( A matter that we should have addressed a long time ago, to avoid that the A.I that we’ve created shows us under their statistics that we haven’t done it, because we are not even trying) because it’s very difficult to win a team game when we are playing as singles.

And where even the more optimistic ones know that the corner of the balance where we are born under, means a huge difference, because the wounds of those who walked and lost their lives crossing the desert, are not the same from those kids that daily and for decades had been dying on TV with flies on his mouths, like it isn’t the same, the effects of lack of education to those who lack the freedom to choose the person they have to love or marry, nor the gap between those who have access to financial wisdom and those who doesn’t.

But, what happens when the balance is reversed and the ones having the chance to teach what we’ve paid the price to learn… are us?

Do we write books, make podcasts, audiobooks or go to Ted talks to find a new way to teach it, or do we just keep it in the same trunk where our fears kept us prisoners when we were kids?

And, if we were able to share it; with whom?

With nameless silhouettes on the TV that don't even have the same skin color as me?

Or with those who shared my blood or have always been close to me?

Most of the time, none of the above. 

And what about when we have the chance to obtain personal benefit due to the lack of defensive skills or reaction of the other party ( like most conquerors clearly did ) Do we made it anyway, while cleaning our fingers in the back of our pants, because an unseen crime as a dream that is not shared, it’s just a figment of the imagination?

Patriarchy, legacy, tradition, nepotism, or just what the lyrics of a Rocio durcal's song ( rest in peace ) teached us was stronger than love: The routine. The suspicion. The course.

DABM