Note the cool blue sharpie color. It's the same color Yosenio used to write the word on my arm. Note this right now: I didn't know his rationale for the word before choosing this color. He's passing through town, and this morning, standing in the sunlight by the side of his car, pen in hand, he explained to me the rationale behind the word:

"I've been thinking about this word for awhile. I was thinking about the branding of slaves, and how in the Holocaust, peoples' arms were marked by numbers tattoed on the skin. And I wanted to choose a word that is respectful of your history and that also shows that I have a relationship to you and your body, but not one of colonization or ownership in the way that our bodies have been owned."

Breath.

"And did you know that Auschwitz was the only camp that used numbers? And they had different colors that might have indicated the location from which people were snatched. And..."

"And you looked all this up?"

"Yes. I did some research, because I wanted the word to be a reclamation. To turn something negative into positive. A way to show love and companionship and to turn this history on its head."

And so he chose, "beloved".