Status Updates From El peó

‘Coincidence? The biographers ask. Coincidence, of course, they say in answer to their own question. Poverty has a smell—a viscous vapour that penetrates the amygdala through the olfactory bulb & never leaves the mind; a fragrant memory that serves as a deterrent against Alzheimer’s. The stench of squalor is inescapable in the Chicago shelter—winter of 1943—The radio won’t stop playing ‘I Had The Craziest Dream,’’

‘There has always been a principled vanguard minority ready to sacrifice—The—sacrifice is what propels history forward—The hero never gets to savour—The spoils go to the cold, calculating cowards, safe & warm in the rearguard. It’s drizzling as he stands for the tribunal—The hierarchy speaks of the common good, and to tell that tale, they need you—And the game, which you now see was never your game, will carry on.’