Daftar
Atau daftar dengan:
Google
Sudah punya akun? Silahkan masuk disini
Dengan klik daftar, anda setuju dengan Syarat dan Ketentuan kami.
Sofía Márquez, the artist, eventually took her hidden canvas to a gallery. She titled it No me he ido del todo — “I haven’t entirely left.”
In the high, thin air of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, Colombia, the Arhuaco people do not ask where you are from. They ask: “Do you remember your Origin?”
By A. Reyes
The Rarámuri of Chihuahua say that the first people were given drums, not instructions. The origin was a rhythm. As long as you can hear it — even faintly — you have not fallen from grace. So where is El Origen ?
His drawing has been torn twice — once by border patrol, once by accident. He has taped it back together each time.
“They ask for your origin at the checkpoint,” he says quietly. “But they want a country. They don’t want the smell of rain on dry dirt. They don’t want the name of the dog that followed me to school.”
The lead author, Dr. Elena Quispe (Aymara heritage, Harvard-trained), caused a stir when she refused to call the finding “the origin.”
It is under the floorboards of a demolished home in Michoacán. It is in the recipe for sopa de piedra that no one wrote down. It is in the curve of a river where a boy first learned to swim. It is in the moment before a photograph is taken — the breath held, the future not yet fixed.
Sofía Márquez, the artist, eventually took her hidden canvas to a gallery. She titled it No me he ido del todo — “I haven’t entirely left.”
In the high, thin air of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, Colombia, the Arhuaco people do not ask where you are from. They ask: “Do you remember your Origin?”
By A. Reyes
The Rarámuri of Chihuahua say that the first people were given drums, not instructions. The origin was a rhythm. As long as you can hear it — even faintly — you have not fallen from grace. So where is El Origen ?
His drawing has been torn twice — once by border patrol, once by accident. He has taped it back together each time. El Origen
“They ask for your origin at the checkpoint,” he says quietly. “But they want a country. They don’t want the smell of rain on dry dirt. They don’t want the name of the dog that followed me to school.”
The lead author, Dr. Elena Quispe (Aymara heritage, Harvard-trained), caused a stir when she refused to call the finding “the origin.” Sofía Márquez, the artist, eventually took her hidden
It is under the floorboards of a demolished home in Michoacán. It is in the recipe for sopa de piedra that no one wrote down. It is in the curve of a river where a boy first learned to swim. It is in the moment before a photograph is taken — the breath held, the future not yet fixed.