A dream of the emmigration of the heart.

My father had a dream: To live in a country where he could escape the hell of poverty, where you do not measure a person's dignity by where or as who you are born. Most people believe in roots, in differences, in categories. By my father's grave I could find no roots. He was one of many parents who throughout their lives had fought to give their children a more dignified life than he himself had been offered. There we stood, before his grave [in Norway where he had asked to be buried] and watched as nationality, religion, ethnicity and roots were buried, in a country that he was neither born in nor felt at home in. And yet it became a powerful symbol to us, his descendants. By my father's grave I saw no roots. I saw only a dream, a dream of the emmigration of the heart, and the immigration of freedom. I saw a dream of freedom, and the price he paid for it. The migration of the heart is the dream of freedom. That is my message to you today.

Norwegian-Pakistani comedienne Shabana Rehman, opening speech at the 2004 Bergen International Festival, 5/31/04.

From: Fjordman <--- Bjorn Staerk.

RTWT. Or you will be martyred.