In the century of the Pamu, in the words of Marx, that is, in the difficult times of the 1800s, David was born in a wooden cabin, built in a wooden building for slaves of a farm in Virginia.
He had big black eyes that looked like black skin. A view with the greatest witness of the incompatibility hunger between his legs and his body
as well. Even behind his eyes, it was almost possible to see that big brains that fueled the fury of his heart. It was not very unhappy to be wearing dirty, torn and patchy entrines woven from cotton, which is the only piece of your sister's coat.
Behind the horse carriage he lived with his father; As he moved away, the farm he grew up in his eyes grew smaller and the voices of the crying women, whose mother and sister were also inside, were less audible.
She was hiding her hiccups behind her throat to save the dignity of manhood, which was early for those ages, as she threw tears with her thorny fingers while collecting cotton.
He was able to read through the hundreds of souls of the slave niggazes who were hanged on the road and hanged on the trees, the forms of life and the anguish of death. Journey to fear and horror
was moving step by step towards uncertainty. His father should have suffered enough the idea of having a desperate father for a black child who was born like a slave himself. The loneliness that the stars, the moon and the sun felt in the whole stage, was an indescribable rage for the soul.
It's over his father's bed, where the whip comes up with a rustling sounding tingling on the back of a poor nigger. For his stiffened body, the burning campfire burned.
Little David, who was on his shoulder to wake his father. But he did not get any reaction. He repeated this many times, but every time he lost his hope a little more. They touched their hands, but it was like ice even though they slept beside the fire. Fear and horror seemed settled in place of David's puppies with inconstant flabbiness. Other slaves watched their efforts to awaken the father of the tiny child with painful and helpless glances, and the women were quietly crying.
Nobody else had time to dig a grave, it was not even a grave of a nigger himself.
Honor and freedom were never the words to be used in favor of black men in a sentence, even for one of the nearly two million niggers brought by the British to this world, stolen from the New and Indian. To all the slave children whose honor has been crafted only to the DNA of the whites, or to the souls of the beloved little ones, who have been afflicted by the white gods with blackness.
Fertility was encouraged for slaves just as they benefited from the fertility in pig farming. In this way it is possible to make a good income by adding power to the human power in cotton fields or by selling the necessities in the market.
If the masters want, they can sneak a woman naked and sneak up in front of the crowd that her husband and children are in. For a reason, a slave can be tortured for hours to frighten others, slaves can be bought and sold from their mother, You may be able to run without sleeping without food for days or even ask you to be a black and slave god of your own, like yourself. Or the Virginia people could have done slavery with the Vermonts jumping in time, with American whites singing.
This child, who is weak and starved of bones and presumably not very much alive, has left his masters with his dead body on the spot. As far as the crowd of slaves, away from the crowd, the helplessness was growing, the little David. So many roads had come, not to find your way to your farm, to die of hunger and thirst on the way back. There was no other desire from the wait and the creator he was so trusting and shared his loneliness.
If his father, who began to smote and start to smell, had not begun to withdraw the corpse-scavenging predator animals, he would have been able to continue to feel safe, even dead as well as his father, for the last two days. He climbed a high moon to protect himself from the attacks of the animals, without looking down.
The reason why you did not want to look down was not fear, but the death of your father, who was shattered by animals. Soon afterwards the grits of the hungry animals left their place in the leaves and the trees of the trees swinging in the wind. Soon before dark he saw the smokes on the north side. He had to get out of the tree and go there. He noticed that he climbed up the tree as he tried to descend from the tree. Higher with every beat, higher up on the end of the tree, and even more on the fog plates that cover the trees. Fascinated by their eyes, colorful lights, vaguely floating objects ...