a quick introduction: my name is chris, i am a visual-effects/digital artist who's also keen of photography. i was born in colombia and raised in lima, perú. being a middle-class white kid of german-descent, peruvian parents, meddling in the streets as i met another passion: bboying, and the lower urban class with it, i got sucked out of the thick social-strata-bubble. this album was created as part of that realization - that better understanding of the society i grew up in, and my love-hate relationship with it.

hello steemit,

i want to share some words with you, which tell where i'm from.
it is not a story about my city - my country - but rather a perspective.
a point of view of social values, culture built upon forced history.
my way of accepting the faults within the place i love most.

please enjoy..

you see,
i come from where natives followed the sun
and prayed to the mounts.

but were shut by the barrel of a gun
and left for counts.

where these very people
were replaced by the screams of horses.

left without a thing
but to pray to their conquerors' voices.

voices of a god of excuses and greed,
made only to cover up the wounds that should naturally bleed.

i'm from where this history
actually holds the pillars of society;

and anyone that knows it can foretell
into which destiny people fell.

a society led by a thief, possibly naive
to buy himself into the presidential bed.

inadvertently chained and drained
by a system he cannot reign.

a man made by the very society he must aid,
to rule and keep the circle of deceit closed and just, just beneath his feet.

i'm from where screams are heard only then,
when change is short of mere dreams.
where not being disrespectful and a liar
leaves you sitting behind, stupid and dire.

where the only snow that can kill,
constitutes this land's precious skill.

and nobody wonders whether,
if so many mothers cry, this should be a subject of pride.

but either way, i could weigh the rivers of blood, only to stay waiting and be left misunderstood.
i could wish for the idiocy of words that stop bullets.
a talk of millennia.
a fallacy.

i could try to understand
all the issues that most seem to
simply hide beneath the golden sand.

but i won't.
perhaps because i mirror the culture i frown upon;
where the actions of a folk comprise a collective yawn.

perhaps because i'm from where all is meant to be seen
through squinted eyes under a raging sun.

perhaps because my home is a number,
a 3 - neglected and not free.
and oh how i love it.

thank you!