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Poor ... my friend is called Gerardo

There's a part in the novel "One Hundred Years of Solitude" in which one knows that the problems are falling This scene takes place in the time it arrives the so-called mayor. I do not think anything can happen as ideal as it would be the lack of conflict between people who inhabit this planet, but when someone is proclaimed authority

ayy! If authority

calling itself this way, we are already bad, but if the authority - ie, judges, prosecutors, police, pimps systems, etc., is named by a group of remarkable, not think it is much better. The authority beyond to serve our well-being, sooner or later will want a bit more than what is allowed. The stick is made to punish and if you do not need it sooner or later be asked for their discontinuation, ie, "Shut the police station to serve?", Some think that the same authority permit this? When the sheriff arrives

Macondo, it is not needed. Is the central power of the State to which the fictional town imagined by
García Márquez


, who sends it. What is the first term of this person? : Paint the house of a certain color. All households. I know it is a trifle, but obviously it is a symbol not of power but of authoritarianism useless. Useless as all authoritarianism, or any authority when it is not necessary. It is obvious that if we all enjoy a good education, education "do not talk about product-school facility would not need heavily on the authorities, as it seems, need today. In that denial, the police corner the truth is that I do not transmit any security. What is the reason? Simple, is different from me. Is someone designated by the State to monitor. But that is not what gives me no confidence. What bothers me

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is carrying a weapon. But beware, as well fuck me

the weapon of the thief who steals a fool like me. The difference is that the jet usually not so protected by law to do what you want, as it is what our police friend. And as long, almost everyone is a potential criminal, one who is always thinking goes morocho "uh sure this is going to ask for documents and will wonder what I'm doing over here and where I live and ... "That is why, given that this last story, lately every time you step in front of a law enforcement officer, my face change a little and starts to have a mixture of indifference and disgust that anyone even without knowing you may notice. I think any small or large act of rebellion against the power is to be applauded if it also involves some intellectual exercise to support it. An example of this may be just one scream when they wear it in front. Now, when democracy will not let us cry ... well something bad happens.

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And if ... you've gone

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Authority. And that would come to be? 1,2,3

Death the old man in the vestibule of the cazon caused that day, no one dared to leave or enter the building from the street La Pampa. No one dared to touch even when he was alive, no one dared to look into his eyes. His voice used to sound so little when they saw it in the neighborhood, many believed that the new neighbors thought that maybe it would be dumb. Interestingly, the day after which the old man said a word, were decidedly beautiful. The sun was stronger than usual and its chirping birds seemed sweeter than ever. Now, seeing him lying in a puddle took away all the harshness of the stranger that her image exuded dignity, besides the great fear caused to kids. A change me in gave me some grief. On the other hand, the coming storm, looked threatening and in a manner consistent with the events. The dog that the old alimenteba always sat beside her and had been left sitting in standby position. Police, was not present at once, is more, was not present as far as I have news. The night became concrete and the uncertainty of the block became sad. The rain began to punish those ramshackle neighborhood rooftops. The next morning the old man's body was gone, the rain either. The dog ... the dog was still there but had gone to bed. I knew the evening of that day the old man was not dead at all

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Twenty years had passed since he had first seen. He believed that everything was over as soon as the mate but, no.

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At one point, stood still, and even though I had wanted to break the silence, I realized that I could not move. The warmth of the fireplace that until it was comforting moments, became annoyed by the skin hurt, the little skin that was devoid of shelter, and I felt terrified that she seemed to enjoy that while still running an excerpt from a work of Ginastera. say I do not know well enjoy, but rather was relieved by some hidden feeling disturbing that left his heart. Suddenly, the huge hall where we were started to literally shrink. My head seemed to explode inward unbearable and inexplicable doing that at a time. _Eduardo? _Leticia

raining outside. I invited them in, but deep inside him, she wanted to be alone at the time Gray, a coffee, then played a little piano for me. not fully enjoyed the music, which was strange because there were days in which only the tunes me out of the wet winter routine and soothed my aches and my constant depression.

I looked down, just to make sure whether what was actually was drinking coffee. I saw a thick substance itself is stirring in the old and worn porcelain cup and again to lift his eyes to where Leticia was, surprised admired then as now was playing in front of me, lifting her sweater up to the level of breasts without actually discovering them, and I could see his flesh and not showing rosacea as I once knew, but he held an ugly purple, in some places to observe dark spots from where he escaped a kind of subcutaneous humor of slightly yellow in color and a slight viscosity. At one point brought his right hand toward your chest, always under heavy coat, and overheard something like the crackling of dry twigs to break. I looked into his eyes, to show, immediately afterwards, which seemed to be his heart that even now was throbbing in his hand. saw the silver brooch had given him the second time he saw her in my life, which for more than ever placed on the instrument, appeared on the floor in front of me on the carpet, like a reproach. Leticia had left me, I had left. Loneliness homelessness, one life in slow motion, without incentives, condemned to think that somehow I let it die, I killed her. Now, when what is in me is just a glimpse of that great love, even the memory of his piano music, comes to calm even a little, my suffering. I hope at least that the demon in my head not to clear his name. The nightmare ended with three words of his, and my incredulous gesture of his mouth was heard: "Do not you appreciate me." All I remember was that when I awake in my chair before the fire, walked to the piano that belonged to him, which had moved into my house at Buenos Aires. And they and five years of that was when I did not want to marry her. once a week at least, I have this dream, and it may seem morbid me much good, since it is the only contact I have with it. Leticia Mujica, died of sadness and solitude, June 10, 1995, alone, and this is the price I pay: And perhaps the worst is that she was the only person who ever loved me, and the only one I ever opened my stubborn heart, and justly with those who did not dare to realize a simple ideal, which was the hand, the scope of a few words ... and gestures. I think anytime soon, the shadows of the night I take the hands and feet, I will. I dream in vain I meet with her and do not deserve it. Only Someone knocks on the door, at the moment ...

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