There is no dike capable of holding back the furious ocean (Power, joy, and anarchism)— Alf Bojórquez

When I learned about anarchism, I was gathered with some teenage friends around a bonfire where we secretly drank some mezcal after a town assembly in Ayutla, in the Sierra Norte of Oaxaca. I didn't understand much about it, but since then I had many questions because I vaguely felt there was something that linked that word to the childhood tequios we gave to our community from elementary school. Since then I have more or less tried to find that relationship, but I still felt it was somewhat distant, I felt it was very urban perhaps.

When they tried to explain it to me, the excess of academism again hid from me a close relationship between something like punk and the mountain community; I focused, in any case, on the differences. But then, the words of someone who knows how to weave began to arrive, and in the fabric that is this book, the reason for that initial suspicion is revealed, and all the necessary words are provided.

This book weaves the threads between anarchism (which I read as something European) and our mountain experience; in this book, the author shows that both can be the warp and weft of the same textile; Mérida and Siberia, radically opposite in climate, find common ground here. Grateful and moved: Jaime Luna insists that the individual does not exist. Rhodakanaty also. That is why it is so necessary to read this book and listen to its creator.

Yásnaya Elena A. Gil