Cuban Blogger Yoani Sánchez

Bypass machines that disconnect, the cries of babies that echo. Stamps that mark papers to deny and condemn; kilobytes that carry my voice on the Internet without my needing to move. Someone who frowns at me while talking on the walkie-talkie of control. A bird called Twitter who raises me up with his feet. Offices with uniformed people who confirm, “You may not travel at this time,” although I am already thousands of kilometers from here, in this virtual world that they cannot understand nor fence in.