Of Man and Man...

 Since I remember being me, I was told to be strong. To not show weakness. I never understood what it meant. What was considered a weakness? Were any part of my emotions besides anger and hate a weakness? Was I not allowed to hurt, to cry, to feel? 

What of the emotions inevitable to any human, like sadness, sorrow and pain? Was I not allowed to speak, to seek help when help was needed? 

With time I learned there's a specific loneliness for man. One that fills any kind of joy. One that makes your strength crumble with such a force it takes mountains to move back again.

 Silenced, ignored and certainly not able to say; I hurt too, what becomes of a person who cannot speak. What becomes of us, when all the heads lay low, afraid to shout? To scream? To say; I'm here, and I need help. 

Text by MV (MSTT)

Photo by Google 

2025

Red Beans and Rice (Riz et Pois Rouges)

 

When I was seven, a neighbour used to prepare some rice for me and my brothers. It was simple rice with beans, nothing else. 

It was the best rice I've ever ate in my life and unfortunately, he passed away before we even knew the name of the rice or how to prepare it. There was something special about it, and, over the years, no matter how we tried, we never managed to do it.

I found the recipe 30 years later, and I couldn't help but shed a tear; what we thought was simple, actually used to take thirteen hours to cook or prepare right…

It's amazing that with time, the act of preparing such a long dish became one of the kindest memories I have.

Text by MV (MSTT)

Image by Google 

2025