“When are you going to see that the only way we can carry our burdens is to share them?” (p310) - Dahlma Llanos-Figueroa

I couldn't write my stories without the constant presence of my ancestors who await me in my dreams and my meditations, whispering their stories and reminding me of what I have forgotten. This book is dedicated to them because their stories have lived for too long under the waters of the Caribbean, unrecognized and in imposed silence.
Let there be light to illuminate as-yet-to-be-told truths.

Eventually, I came to understand how liberating fiction would be. I would be free to let my imagination soar. I could include the stories of my family and add to the many stories I was given by friends and students who shared their lives with me as well. Fiction gave me the freedom to adjust, invent, build bridges, raise my figurative voice and superimpose a structure on the images I had been collecting all along. It gave me permission to omit the extraneous and sharpen the essential. I could inhabit my characters' thoughts, explore their innermost feelings and tell their stories from various perspectives. I could experiment with language, both English and Spanish, using the rich vernacular of my youth, in both the Bronx and rural Puerto Rico, creating a bilingual, bicultural, biracial world. I had a whole set of tools at my disposal that would allow me to tell many stories my way. In fact, I could write metaphorical narrative of the Afro-Puerto Rican journey from 19th century Africa to colonial Puerto Rico to contemporary urban America, something I knew had never been done in American letters. In a sense, I could become the storyteller for all of them, a modern day griot of Afro-Puerto Rican tradition. For years, I had been a receptor, collecting stories and holding them in trust. Now I knew why. Seeing my work within the framework of narrative fiction, was like pushing aside a curtain and seeing the world for the first time. Writing this novel became my primary goal.

Don’t forget that the artist still has to be a woman. Nourish them both. (p317)