Sunday, January 17, 2010
It was a sad song - I mean to say that she was sad and that she didn't know any other kind of song. She didn't sing loud and it was a song with no words, her mouth shut the song sticking in her throat like a moan... so what do you want? She sang as the black girls do, as if you're smothering a sob, and this song always ends by beginning again because it is made in the image of misery, and tell me, will misery ever end?"
Jacques Roumain, "Gouverneurs de la Rosée" ("Masters of the Dew") Translation by MADISON SMARTT BELL