In my motherland people kneel before wells.

In my motherland people pray to the crosses of flying birds.

A bone is a key to my people.

Among my people, only the dead have human faces.

- Valzhyna Mort
  • “I wish I was born in the 90s,” says the young girl. Suddenly, her surroundings change- french flags fly above and around her, crowds are cheering. It is France, 1793. The king is dead. Long live the revolution.

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