There are people who say "I'm fine" responding to itself, to recover from the daily beating, to forget the pain. There are also people who assume that they "are fine" because repeating it a thousand times opens up new opportunities to express good vibes. But there are also people who say so to speak, with a hint of himself, but no. And without a doubt, there are those who are well.
It is dangerous for a society, (for those who study and investigate these cases, can contribute more to this) that the generalization of those who say "be well" without distinguishing between being or being wrong, are with the lost look burying their faith, and he walks in the apocalyptic scene of the catastrophic film; to the place -which does not matter if it exists-, with the suicide at his side.
In Venezuela, the future looks us in the eye to teach us that same way of being well, which is not being: that is the abyss.
The anguish produced by the background of a photograph, which is not staged, because this happened in a street, where a woman had an epileptic attack. Showing a silence sustained by two arms that helped the last breath, the dishes in the air, the broken ground, and the mind delivered. Here are two beings, who may be from a slum, or live on the hill. Or maybe they met at school, in the workplace or in the queue of the bank. Both were dressed in old brand, and painted bones. It was the silent shout that dragged his feet along the sidewalk that leads to the same place: the fall.
Meanwhile, those who usurp the nation look in the mirror, dressing in red, with their hands full of blood, making a giant effort to get into their pants, and when they breathe; they choke on their opulent figure of gluttony and hatred.
My dear readers, these are the hands that sustain the fall of the one who receives the touch of the hands that kill.
Let's reflect on how we are feeling to assume the best option; to be alive.
Written by Jhon A. Romero.-