For us, stories are living beings. They breathe life into our homes, into our forests. They pulse in our blood, in our dreams. They stalk us like jaguars, clack like peccary, sail like macaws, run like fish. They are powerful beings. Like rainbows, they bring peace. Like lightning, they bring war. And they are always changing. That’s how we know that they are alive. A story dies when no one tells it.
