My hands have carried your city. They carried your blooming parks and wilting terraces, hundreds of your streets and street people, your rain that washes everyone underground. My hands carried the unrecognizable darkness of your backyards, your stolen bicycles and borrowed cigarettes, they carried the prayers in your houses of worship, the tears on your tablecloths, they carried your young hero's monument, its shadows. My hands were the dusty hills that enclosed your city. My hands were the flashing wings, that covered your city.