This blooming spring roars through the streets that there will be not a minute of silence but a lifetime of struggle. That their murdered ancestors, swept away by cement and oblivion, rise like a wave of platform flowers, their bones are the possession of all those who survive discrimination, exclusion and transphobia. Dead under the hands of the world and in their own arms, today, like a silent monument, the root of this struggle flourishes in cement. Today something does happen, today they are everywhere, in all people; because they will be able to cut each and every one of the flowers but they will not stop the spring. Right now: transvestite, trans-sexual, trans-human, trans-powerful, insurrectional spring, beautifully grotesque, wild, furious, own, crazy, free. Trans Spring

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