obsidian eyes ...
black eyes like obsidian, precious stone that even broken can cut.
brown skin like the color of the land that saw me born, the one that after being plundered for 500 years does not lose its wealth and shine.
long black hair like the night itself, when coyolxauhqui accompanies me in solitude and illuminates my walk in the dark,
my language, my culture, my customs and my beliefs,
the blood of my grandmothers running through my veins.
their knowledge, their wisdom, their respect and way of seeing life, that is what I am, the sum of all of them, the very legacy of their lives
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