{I was young ,too young for a lot of it, but my mom was always real concerned, she was in the NAACP for a long time, I remember stuff, moments when the raw emotions hit, this is where the light of God shines on the earth, here and in the dust and jingle of nomadic journey, beyond the reach of hopelessness, that's Joan of Arc there in between the soldiers, angels in combat fatigues, with guns, and the madness and the dogs and the sneering scorn, who can look at that and not see spirits?}
