Arauco is a shame, says Violeta Parra, and while I repeat the title of that old fight song I keep thinking that I might well say that I have also a pity, deep grief and hurt me hurts like a long time nothing was sore, but then think again and you say nothing, it is clear that my pains and shocks are not based on social injustice or economic disappointments, but from the meanest human soul: the rebound. Arauco has a sentence, the phrase gets stuck in my mind like a nut that does not allow the free development of things, Arauco, Arauco is a shame and I also. The songs have never been my forte, unless you are protest, but it was through them that I could keep sane this past month. I've thought and pondered over and over again, spite, my wrath, and by this I feel even against my will has the ability to transform into an unstoppable driving force, a reason not to let up one iota in my projects although it may be the ideal excuse to ignore the world and the only sure bet that we all know better or worse, death. As shown, the distance between a wounded pride, laziness and insanity is not so wide. So I speak. Talk. I arrive home, rang the bell and salts. Wearing new clothes, black boots and a purple blouse do not know but that contrast perfect with your green eyes, those for over a month since I looked. In a few seconds to define the climate of the situation: the conventions of love, those who always took for fact, is now breaking down. Faced with the uncertainty of the greeting, hands not touching, the lips do not kiss, waist not embrace, we do nothing but raise one arm by way of hello. Silence. With a face that wants to be nice and calm voice modulated and you tell me that just by hanging out with friends, you'd love me through and talk quietly all that has happened, but that is impossible now. You make a gesture as encouraging me to say something, but I fail to interpret the truth at all. You look for the first time, directly in the eye and in my mind only echoes the refrain of the song of Parra, the Chilean wrote everything and no one understood. Arauco has a sorrow / That I can not shut up. Sigh and shake my head sharply to the sides, like refusing to believe that an invitation truncated, is all that remains of that old story of the foreigner, the foreign accent, the immeasurable love. Before me is a person who is not her, my memories, and yet you are more than ever. I notice people walking down the street going slower than usual, as if all anticipate that something is happening before their eyes and have a desire sudden stood there. Come on, be your lucky day. The backpack bag that I always carry a rolled sheet, ending a hat tip and a small toy horn. With trembling hands I put on my hat, peeling the leaves (which attempt to look like a medieval edict), and play the musical instrument I bring with me. I see you sideways and I understand that there is curiosity on your face. Maybe it's morbid. How not to be if you have before you the most absurd caricature of a real preacher in a public street. My lips trembled and his voice does not come out. And when the sense of ridicule is about to expire, beginning: "The people and the people who live in them have the innate ability to reconstruct what that has not been successful. Point. Sometimes it is better to demolish from the ground, while in others it is possible to maintain a minimal structure and move forward with new strokes. Point. A year ago, on the day of St. Albert of Louvain, in November 1924, a stranger came to the kingdom, filled with joy and dance festivals of the court. Point. With this many projects were conceived but few completed. Point. Is of the highest importance to recognize, here and now, flying machines that were with him were damaged more. Point. However, the desire to fly remain. Endpoint. "
acknowledge the story.'s Eyes closed a moment to remember that first win meeting. Open. Arauco is a shame / I have one too. The despair came to this land / pride came with it. / No one has been remedied / pudiéndolo remedy.
Questions
a second and then solve. Take your cell phone, send a message to a recipient who does not know, coughed a little and smiled saying, "Come."
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The silence has killed more men than the rifle.
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was not only the background, but neglect the ways in which motivated the angry bastard.
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