"Something lives yet, there is smoke among the rubble. Live embers. The phoenix rises and that is life — wings from cooling cinders, tendrils from putrefaction, motion from what was petrified…There are green vines on the slag of ruin. Mine. As on the mountain slopes, clustering and swelling. They flush, they flood the long-parched throats of men and release their joy. This sacrament of earth is life. Dionysos."
—
Wole Soyinka. The Bacchae of Euripides. pg. 2.
To student protestors everywhere.
