In Angola they feel prisoners political accused of any crime. They say that it is a democratic regime that it is in the middle of the joy of their functions. The democratic potencies close the eyes and they point that it is like this that it is good, that it is like this that it is made the stability in Africa. Here is the income of the terrorism of which Europe is not gotten to loosen. Who supports the corruption and their dictatorships, in the bottom it is also terrorist without the knowledge.

domingo, 28 de dezembro de 2008

The Epic Poem of Gilgamesh

My seating niece was with the head and the hands contained in the thighs. The only two year-old second sons was leaned her seeking the caresses tired, inexistent. The child breathed the allowed constitutional poverty of the malaria and of the hunger always epic. Did know, who doesn't the one know what happens?! Did I leave that she presented their laments.
- Sambita… those hungry eyes, the hunger pursues you…
- Yes… the rain dragged my house… it dragged everything… I was invisible, without anything.
- And didn't you seek the government's aid?
- For something?! If it went general daughter or another what such.
- And your husband?
- Oh… you were right, they only know how to do children, he abandoned me, and it went home of I don't know where… I dispatched him for the space… I don't want anything else with men.
- Yes, I am to see. Sambita, insist, you should have taken advantage of the Noah's ark ministerial, government.
- No longer there is who believes in those things. That Chest, they copied it of the epic poem of Gilgamesh. This people are as the flood… always to devastate, to drag.

I went in my wife's drawers, I stole her some bikinis and soutiens and other clothes that I found unnecessary. Everything joined in a sack of big plastic.
- Sambita, takes… of the little food that we have it still arrives for you and for the child.
His faces and of the child they seemed a branch of Darfur. They ate until if notices that the eyes irradiated that known satisfaction and however ignored of the satiation. If the politicians starved, certainly they would feel in the soul the hungry persons' longings. But, I politicize is to make speeches, to speak very even to make sick. I politicize is the secret not published of the millenarian cloning.
- Uncle, I need money… the child is with two for field… the malaria kills.
- Then, does nobody of the family help you?
- Uncle, no longer family exists, nothing doesn't exist. Only petroleum, diamonds and a lot of lovers.
- It is shovel!.. I only have two hundred dollars… my God… I give you a hundred… you know, had this money kept for in the case of go stop sick to a hospital, because without money we died there in the door of this rejuvenated independent hell.

I gave him the money and if embrace us. The beggars' hugs, the Theory of the Relativity, and the Quantum Theory don't get them relating to nor to quantify.
The afternoon was stocking, the sun burned her, and the sea received the excess of temperature of the earth. More clouds of Gilgamesh attested the deposits with water. More torrents diluvia’s got ready for us to devastate the beggars. The poverty and the hunger pursue them governed, the rulers no. The hunger is a divine gift.

The Scriptures say that to reach the kingdom of the skies is a lot of necessary suffering, a lot of hunger. The rich and powerful are eternally protected by a God invisible, visible, comprehensible, and incomprehensible.

Gil Gonçalves

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