1971

it was a year of living dangerously.

it excited the young, steeled the hearts of the brave, and wrought havoc and fear in the hearts of the old.

change was in the air, being fashioned in the streets and barricades. in the open, one sniffs at the fresh breath of freedom amidst the acrid taste of cordite from m-16s. sometimes, molotov lit the streets, often times flash and strobe lights in search of protesters and fugitives.

we were torn between our studies and protest rallies, between our classrooms and the streets. but the wiser of us chose to pore over our books while keeping the fire of freedom within our hearts. there will be time, we told ourselves, and it is never too late to be a hero.

we promised ourselves never to be dead heroes, because the dead never tell their tales. but we never dishonor those of us and of our confreres who fell along the way before the break of dawn. comrades like luisa and rebecca.

by the way, until now, we still await the breaking of dawn.