So I strolled on up to this view.The hue? It was cool in blue.
I could tell this one was new.An untold future, obstructed by the cool concrete, waiting for the cotton sheets.
The wind is cold.Piercing like a daggers bite.
Its forcing me down, my eyes sewn tight.But like a fireI have my own light.
I know where I’ve been.Ill keep going.My heat is burieddeep and roaring.
"That was us taking on a larger entity trying to find a piece of it we could affect through direct action."
This short documentary profiles the last fluent speaker of Wukchumni, a Native American language, and her creation of a comprehensive dictionary.
I could listen to her speak all day.