BLOOD
DIAMOND

Seared through the halls of Kenya, scattered through the broken temples of Vietnam, broken on the shores of India. This image tells the true and terrible story of colonialism and slavery; as the blue sky closes up around them, images that danced on the once rich and fertile plains now toil under the earth, chained to one another as they labour in the mines. Blood and flesh follow the diamond, which sparkles briefly before being whisked away to foreign shores who we all know these bruised brown eyes will never see. A single figure stands in the foreground, the past behind them.

​

The sky's still blue in Africa, as always. The elephant has lost its tusk, the lion herds now all but gone, and even the trickle of the Nile has slowed. In the distance, their grumbling can still be heard. Rhodesia and Rwanda, French, German or British, they took most of their peoples and left behind only curses and bullets.

Even now the undying fight amongst themselves. A thousand tribes rise up, rejected the Arab in his turban just as they reject the Spaniard and his Inquisition. The war never ends, the flow of diamonds and blood pumps the heart of this dry and dusty continent. And, from the center of the bloodshed, emerges a lone figure. With a heart as black as jet and eyes brighter than the sun, he is one of many who aim to conquer the most valuable of mines, the soul of the people.