Today was one of the coldest nights yet this winter. As I readjusted in bed, seeking the warmest spot for a restful sleep, a persistent scratching at my door around 7 am signaled the arrival of Canelo, wagging his tail eagerly. As I opened the door, he leaped onto the bed, also searching for that cozy warmth. His affectionate nips and bites seemed his way of expressing gratitude to the one who provides his meals twice a day.
Following my usual routine, I reached for my phone, scanning through emails, various platforms, and then the news. However, one piece of news triggered bitter sensations, an overwhelming emotion that lingered heavily. Yesterday marked the global boycott against Israel's state of terror toward Palestine. A friend and I decided to postpone any digital international transactions in solidarity with the boycott. Within the art community of San Francisco, there's a push for public denunciation of Israel's actions. Despite joining these efforts, a lingering heaviness remained, realizing that the focus on Israel or Palestine in the war is less important than who benefits from it. The real issue lies with those perpetuating atrocities by supplying armament and ammunition
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