We, the trees. Our roots run all the way down to the heart of the earth, and we can feel the beat of her… — Véronique Tadjo
We, the trees. Our roots run all the way down to the heart of the earth, and we can feel the beat of her pulse. We inhale her breath. We taste her flesh. We live and die in the exact same spot, never moving from the land we occupy. Both prisoners and conquerors of time, we stand riveted to the ground yet soaring upward, reaching for the clouds. We adapt to all weathers, rain or shine, hurricanes or the dry harmattan winds. Our crowns merge with the sky's cotton-wool dreams. We are the link between Man and his past, his present, and his unpredictable future. (III)
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Colonizing space with enormous rockets will almost certainly not be a lifeline for them. For if they haven't learned to live here, how can they possibly survive in the distant Beyond? (XV)
Humans today think they can do whatever they like. They fancy themselves as masters, as architects of nature.
What one does is never enough. I don't want this challenge we're facing to defeat us. I want to do my bit, I want future generations to understand how hard we fought to stop the triumph of the unacceptable. (V)
