© Sarah Troudi

How to listen to Victor Jara

How to listen to Victor Jara



to push imaginary boundaries

hearing Victor’s distant voice evaporating in hot summer breeze


in a tumbling car

I feel my weight on a bumpy road with my sweat crawling down the back of my spine

it feels like I am stuck here forever- then my numbness makes me disappear

it is one humble feeling

tiny and grand

Alive in the air

particles of moist dust tickle you and reassemble

everything seems to make you recollect all the lost feelings of your teenage years

everything you have achieved to get out of your skin is gathering up again

I hate this place for having to call it my home. I forgive this place.

But how many realities do you have?

Which one precedes you and which of them makes you?

Who needs to speak your language

Who needs to see your land

How to push boundaries?

Like scrapping off your skin

and letting in the dust

that holds every secret magical


Defining and re


the meaning of otherness

It is always

Pushing boundaries

Made up in your mind

made of Sand

I try listening to Victor Jara. In every place I go. It doesn’t alway fit and I curl up in my own self.

Paris yes you are trying to embezzle me with your shy alleys

Your scenic roundabouts

But I discovered without the grip of the heart you are nothing but dim light

The grass of your home country is where you feel the loneliest.

The grass is always greener elsewhere but here the rot is all mine

the messed up shit welcomes your soul to surrender, finally

because sometimes it has the power to hold you without judging you

to love you and you have nothing to prove.

Nothing to level-up to.

You are not my child anymore, I do not recognize you but I love you. Stay here on my land, you can stay. Stand here instead of kneeling elsewhere.