For a second job…

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…

How hard is to be easy!

The spoiled aspect in us might be considered a sort of a viral picture we use to live with. Like it is said in Venezuela: It is getting (Could be: everyone is getting it) Well; it may be typical. Such a thing is attributed, at first, to a misinterpretation of first loves. Eventually we get uncomfortable, to then start a never exhausting search for finding fear. Finally the goal lies on the admiration. So that we tend to believe we are better admired by fear rather than love. We never stop evocating childhood. Some experts call it depression, perhaps because of a insecurity in that, maybe. But if we imagine a little and believe the tale that our personality is made by shells like an onion, the insecurity comes out first, and for that, besides crying, in this case, we get depressed.  We reach the anger, the envy, and mixed it all up with unhappiness. From there we go to the pills and then prescriptions. That’s on we are. Especially if we find a good vice so such a disorder gets justified. That’s the way I am. But time never stops being perfect and not only God’s. Someday we’ll no longer be feared (whoever fears us) and it will become into a defeat which we avenge with the love. How easy is to be difficult, isn’t It? Better said: How hard is to be easy! That’s the reason why the conflict is a kind of peace and for that Peace is always a conflict… 

Spanish version: aquí