It was a gray morning. The rain took everyone’s
prayers and put them on the ground. Not. On the streets. Streets full of holes.
Holes understood as scars. Scars of this city. A city with nothing left but
holding on. Just like people waiting on supermarket´s lines. Lines for food. For
a second job. A job born from the chaos. And by the way: such a chaos brought
to establish order. Yes. An order. A convenient order. So we all go and watch TV,
read the papers, complain, and complain again until we begin to hope. Finally.
Hoping for a better tomorrow and tomorrow is today. And today it’s raining and
the morning was gray… But this is not just a sad feeling. Nope. Among the
events of the day people still find a better look, a fancy place to gather (and
yes, still complaining) but there are some who laugh, upload pictures of a nice
lifestyle, even with these news, with these politicians. So I wonder if it may
be our wonder; if this is a beauty I don’t understand because I spend too much
time staring at elsewhere ones. I can’t help it. The concept of beauty and
wonder I grew up with is far from this one. But I get this sort of a kind.
Chaos: when is induced by power, it is just a beautiful thing…
