Dear Hypergraphia

Today I read at a Black History Month event and, because I had been hearing rumours that some of the Black Community had been wondering why so many white people were singing in Victoria's gospel choirs (myself included) and why a white reader would be asked to a Black Festival, I took a portrait that Eva Campbell, who was showing her paintings of Black Sisters at the event, had done of me to thank me for a perceived kindness a year or two back.

Mairuth Sarsfield beat me to the answer when she told the assembly, "We're sharing the spirit. That is a good thing."

"It's just me" I said, showing my painting, "A sister who left Africa a few thousand years before you did and got bleached in the snows of Northern Europe, or whatever it was called back then."

My ancestors might have been Neanderthals; but I prefer to think of them as cave painters as opposed to meat eaters.

I wondered if you might be a sister, Hypergraphia? Maybe I am wrong in assuming we are all mothers at heart, wiping up the snot of the world.

This is about the gospel as told by anarchists and Democrats. It is still the same gospel. I have not yet been invited to the Obama White House, in spite of my fervent support, but I did know Utah well enough to make the judgement that he and the new President are branches of the same tree (as opposed to bush).

"I believe" is the opening phrase of the Apostle's Creed. Of course, Harper used it. What a great device, getting everyone to think they are sitting in the church of St. Stephen. We all all believe in something. It is what Utah and Obama believe(d) in common that interests me. We need to transcend the man-created archives of terrible sadness and begin a new day. Men of reason and compassion, I believe they share(d) the same gospel, which Utah articulated so well in the lines I quoted.