Once I read that history is like an old house at night. With all the lamps lit. And ancestors whispering inside. To understand history, we have to go inside and listen to what they’re saying, and look at the books and pictures on the wall. And smell the smells…but we really can’t get into this house, because we’ve been locked out. And when we look in through the windows, all we see are shadows. And when we try to listen, all we hear is a whispering. And we cannot understand the whispering, because our minds have been invaded by a war. A war that has made us adore our conquerors and despise ourselves…

…we are pointed in the wrong direction, trapped outside our own history and unable to retrace our steps because our footprints have been swept away…

Our history, our past, our legacy, our pride…it seems we have lost sight of them. History is not to be forgotten, though it’s gone and passed away, it should be upheld, the virtues in it, and studied to avoid a repetition of past mistakes…

…can we really get back into this house or have we been locked out permanently? are we stranded in history?…