Stories and News No. 1187 We are in the kitchen of a normal apartment, sheltered by a very ordinary door, maybe next to yours. Inside there is a father and a son like many others. Or perhaps, like some very precise ones, because of an overestimated crossing of lights and electromagnetic radiation called skin colour. The two are at dinner. Mom is still at work, but she will be back soon and everything will be back in place. In the meantime, the man does what he can. "Dad?" Says the boy, ten years of curiosity and desire to go beyond the unspoken. "Yes, Ephrem." "Who are the racists?" "We've already talked about it, I remember." To be honest, the man is right, since the unavoidable topic had already been addressed some months ago. Blessed is the family that enjoys the benefit of postponing or even avoiding the most uncomfortable conversations. "No, Dad, I'm not saying the meaning of racism, the other time you talked...
by Alessandro Ghebreigziabiher