All of the Antilles, every island, is an effort of memory: every mind, every racial biography culminating in amnesia and fog. Pieces of sunlight through the fog and sudden rainbows, arcs-en-ciel. That is the effort, the labour of the Antillean imagination, rebuilding its gods from bamboo frames, phrase by phrase.
For me, I think one of the biggest battles is mentally. You have good days, and you have bad days. Randomly, you'll feel good for weeks, and then all of a sudden, you'll have a bad day where you're really sore. And you end up questioning yourself, like, 'Am I doing the right thing? Why is this so hard?'