¨My name is Gabriel, I think, because of my father's immense love for Latin America, perhaps my mother's religious tradition, but I represent a tiny experience of the many atoms that make up the cosmos, I live on planet earth and perhaps for when you Read this, the few things my eyes have seen may have disappeared, erased.
These days, death dresses in uniform or otherwise, is the somber halite that surrounds the images of thousands of children dying in a puddle of vomit. The train of innocence left long ago and it is painful to know myself as man among so much barbarism.
I get up on a rainy morning, in a country that is not my country, my bed, my eyes do not belong to me, I can not tell you where I am from.
I open this window with nets and all the death and the fear filters through the walls. I try to cover it with paintings, with photos, with grimaces, but the stinking stench insists on reminding me that not everyone has my luck.
A raven perches on the fence, stares at me as it twists its neck, has my brother's eyes.
Suddenly all the rivers and all the coasts, all the airports and the train stations, all the bus stops, all the mouths, all eyes, everything between tear gas collapses from the ceiling and It falls right in the middle of my conscience , The noise of the phone interrupts my tribulations and delusions, I answer and it's a woman crying, a fugitive bullet ran away with the soul of my brother, an many others
I would die at the head of the battle, next to him, but then a great truth interrupts my lament.
I am here, in other frontier lines with much less life than those, who on fire of the same faced the monster, dying yes, that is the price of eternity
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From @gabosh