Mouvement 51

Mouvement 51





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It’s a world of flashing lights; American Dream, Hollywood, short-skirts and short shirts. There’s a pounding music that beats through our bones, sending ripples through our flesh and urging us to dance. So all together, without a care in the world, we dance.

until there is another pounding.

A pounding that slashes through bones and rips through flesh.


Gunfire. Children hide under their desks. Again.

1999, Colombine. 2012, Sand Hook. 2018, Parkland. Dead, injured, over and over again.

Yet through the shots, we still see the flashing lights; American Dream, Hollywood, until the day when...


Pop. Pop.

A classmate drops. Then two more.

Blood pools.


First comes shock. Is this a dream?

The violins float, time slows-- a lifetime of carelessness flashes before us. Faster and faster, where did the time go?

We want to go back, we want to go back

bring the children back.


I love you, I love you, the parents’ cries echo. We shriek for revenge.

There is anger. Blood races through our veins, red taints our white innocence. Why did this happen to us?


Then, there is surrender. We sit. We feel.

What happens after destruction? How do we go on?


We try to understand.

Darkness exists to make light truly count.


Our light is a seed, the darkness the dirt, and in spite of the uneven odds

We know we will survive.

We will survive, but life will never be the same.

Flashing lights, American Dream, Hollywood, until the day when…

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