domingo, 3 de enero de 2010

Ghostly errors. Pages 5 to 7

Now that you're poor you have to enter a subway car with faded eyes, holding a bag in his hand.You look vaguely like the present and begin to recite word for word everything that gives you hunger. This squeezes your guts with a vengeance and when you feel in your gut, stomach, humming an old song with a bitter taste.

Munchies When pressed, the stomach does not sing because that's for the happy-hum.

So while you talk-looking nowhere and just getting the attention of some idle your presence only rescues the journey through the tunnel boring black-remember that yesterday you were one of them. Yesterday we heard sitting where the Lord of the face of slug, but life takes many turns and you do not balance and you know why you're now at the bottom. Then swallow it to continue.

You walk by the car awkwardly collecting coins who deign to give. Say thank you with humility, but in a seat is is a person you knew in your time of glory, although she looks at you with pity thinking: ¡Poor wretch!. Start talking with you in a gesture of kindness in her face, though his eyes flit grief, pride, superiority and social status. This concealed by a gentle look you try dropping your tongue. His eyes interrogate you, then rolling around accounts of who gave you life since the last time you saw that person. It seems sincerely pity but our eyes can not hide his joy because you regret that your misfortune for some pests are joys. It is people like you who are persuaded of the authenticity of their lives inauthentic, because it is the existence of autopersuaden penniless beings unhappier than them. They have made it into the system and are retained through their daily effort that requires them to sell their time for money. Accepting any job and giving up their "golden dreams" to be extinguished over time as the flame that lights the room and finally plunges into the darkness of everyday life and disappointment. The disillusionment that occurs when you turn and see with regret that the way in which we have come is a desert without vegetation, then we ask the same question: Was it worth giving up everything for nothing?. The silence of the desert as we respond with silence what responds.Then we realize the futility of the struggle we have had to survive in this world of wolves, where the sheep have turned into wolves and wolves devour each other, and when your life is resolved because you have the guest Don Money in your home for the rest of your days, "this usually happens at age 60 - want to enjoy what you never had, but you're too wrinkled to live and your bones creak too much to skip. You sit on a bench and wait patiently for the lady who comes into the sunset of our lives. It is the fate of idiots.

Six hours working in that place undermined the character of anyone who considered human. In six hours he insulted, spat upon 60 times. In six hours there were six fights with six deaths and six injuries. In six hours was all the violence that is alienated in any 66 years, for six hours in that hell amounted to a life of suffering in the afterlife that was behind those walls.

Original text of Lalama Jorge Seoane

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