I’m imagining I could travel back in time. To a time, not so different from today, anyway. But somehow still different, somewhat sepia.
Back then, the youth was on the streets. People cried to be heard, wanted equality, freedom and someone listening to them. And above everything, they listened to a new kind of music…
Sometimes, I would love to travel back to the days of my parents, only to understand that all in all, not too much as changed. Or at least, very little.
But I wish that that from the worldwide protests from last week, a new movement will be born. People, still critical and asking uncomfortable questions standing as one. People that won’t accept the opinions laid upon them from above, standing as a wall against all the madness that has come to see the light of day once again much stronger than in the past years.