Words shape the world. They always have. In fact, we would not be the society we are if we had not previously been concerned with naming everything that surrounds us or gives meaning to our existence.

We are stardust in the infinity of the universe. Faced with the immensity of what we barely understand, we have words to rescue us from emptiness. To delimit reality and to make it graspable.

But not always. Sometimes, there are situations for which we have no words. For example, we know that a child who loses either of their parents is an orphan. That the person who loses their spouse is a widow(er). But there is no word for the father or mother who loses a child. As if that loss cannot be measured, not even with words. As if such is the tragedy that it should remain unspoken.

Perhaps, as humans, we can only face the greatest pain with silence. Perhaps, as humans, silence is our greatest pain.

We live in times of silence. We have settled into the false certainty that all is discovered, and all is said. That the earth is ours. That everything is achievable through force or money, that there is only one way to live, that different means dangerous. And this false certainty is sustained by the censorship of some and the mutism of others.

Little by little, we are shrinking the world. We make it smaller in the hope that it will be more manageable. To make the tribe as compact as possible, until it fits in a cave.

Little by little, we stop seeing ourselves as infinite stardust and become sheep. Frightened, tired, distrustful, and aggressive sheep. A frustrated flock that thinks that there are no pastures left for all of them; that the usual shepherds are getting worse and worse and that they are only governed by the interest of commanding. Disappointed and badly wounded sheep that end up accepting the discourse of power, even if it is pure delirium.

And little by little, the cave falls silent.

But.

Is that the only way?

The thing about silence is that even a whisper can break it.

A word. A word that reminds us that we are not sheep. A word that reminds us of the power that lies in the voice of ordinary people. A word that vindicates our basic right to just be and exist.

BELAND.

A word that is missing in our vocabulary but that is part of our nature.

BELAND is the place that gives us roots, identity, and peace. It is also our feeling of love and belonging. The right to build a dignified life. The duty to preserve it for oneself and for all. BELAND is where we are born, where we are raised, where we live, where we had our first kiss. BELAND is where our children, our parents, our friends are.

BELAND is a free, personal, and non-transferable place. It cannot be bought, nor stolen, nor conquered, nor subdued, nor annihilated. Just like us.

BELAND is universal. We all have one. We all feel one. We all are one.

Can you hear us? Can you hear our voice?

You are not alone. We are here. With one hope. With one word: BELAND.