Spring algorithms

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All week, every day, I went out with a small chainsaw to cut down the already fallen tree branches, and stack them into wood. The tiny chainsaw held up pretty good through the thick wood and it's still tiny logs. While I reminisce about my visits to my heritage and family former castles and Samurai compound, noting the woodwork and joinery - - I'm still plagued by this American whitewashed existence. Well I remember the stories of Nakashima a famous woodworker who lived in this area. I do not have the blessing of having a Japanese name, and have endured extensive gaslighting. I bow my head in silence to the wood pile. My only link to survival. You don't know who I am or my family's legacy in Japan. So I bow my head in silence while cherry blossoms here have a different meaning, the last two trees planted. There are only thought of in terms of American president past. We are nothing here so small so tiny much like 'eat this and drink that'. It is how hatred has impacted my life and sorrow and silence I contemplate completing my extensive lifelong human rights complaint.