“In reality, the pioneers of this transformation of the indigenous Zapatista woma…” — Subcomandante Marcos

Our war cries opened the deaf ears of the almighty government and its accomplices.

In addition to being extremely expensive, and we have to put up with the stupidities that the candidates repeat, it's really being decided elsewhere who will sit in the presidential seat.

In that first blow to the deaf walls of those who have everything, the blood of our people, our blood, ran generously to wash away injustice. To live, we die. Our dead once again walked the way of truth. Our hope was fertilized with mud and blood.

We came to know each other in war, and in war we continue.