I write from here ...
From Venezuela in the middle of Latin America, suffering the most terrible and despicable agony, the one from which nothing awaits. Wanting to run, needing to go out, fighting your roots, risk the earth and refuse to let you walk.
The air becomes dense, people get lost and the lights of their eyes go out, the young people look old and the old people only live from the years.
We were born in the big country, so big ... but every day it reduces around us, drowning us, numbing us ...
We were born rich believers, but the true wealth is not touched, cultivated, or exploited, the wealth is the people, those people who already know, who are far away, those people who kill, who only remained alone, who remember the echo of voices that shout from outside: React!
And it's not so easy, you know, we feel, we suffer, but we do not bother, we do not move, we control and repress our bodies without being able to do anything, it's not just the root, it's the system
The system that reduces us to nothing, that manipulates us and turns us into objects, without rights or aspirations, into animals that are hungry and easy to drive.
But, if my irreverent soul and my insatiable spirit still have strength, with my last breath to reach where my dreams are to return to the vase, where the air is light and the mental sea greatness
Sorry, they did not leave me another option.
