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.

terça-feira, 22 de setembro de 2009

The Epic poem of the Darkness (29)

The wind sowed the dust of the cathedrals of flotation constructions. New Deal, project new life, new race to the gold man. A lot of money, a lot of bank redundancy. To destroy, to build, to destroy. To build a tree is more difficult, it is easier to build a building. I felt beginning of inflammation of the conjunctive ones. With medicine appetite I entered in a drugstore. In the bottom of the counter, the pharmacist talks indolent with a customer. They are young, they seem to disguise, to date. I also disguise and I travel the display case until getting to hear the conversation. The youth she accelerates, it shakes himself, it goes up the tone of the voice.
- I am not entitled to the job reason?!
- He knows…
- Do I know the something!? Did I Pass in the admission tests. They ordered to come to the service today, and here I am.
- You don't understand the things.
- I repeat! I am not entitled to the job reason?!!
- You know… if you went more clearly… you would have the job.

She lifted a hand in the intention of dismissing a plated. She hesitated, it harnessed, she was absent frightened her. To shed tears in the exit door, she made an effort the vocal chords.
- That not! That not!
I prepared myself with the medicine and I met again myself in the street. I came unfastened of the illicitness of the contrary winds.
- That God helps us! Again Nero will set on fire Rome and it will blame the Christians!

In the summit of an antenna four birds of prey they await tide of roses. Some distracted pigeons fly close. Two plundering raise flight, they prepare winged village. They hover sly, the pigeon fancying/breeding detect them they are to the window.
The zungueiras (women that sell in the streets) in single line spread fervours, they seem in their litter for carrying religious images. They are young appetizing that they study in the streets of the parallel universities. They carry books of gold, liquids in their pots. Immense lines of vehicles wait, they despair. The stations of supply of fuel are insufficient. I approach the great sewer.

It is noticed that was an extensive street. He is an immense to make a fuss of, mire. Well nurtured, fed without royal responsibilities. They set afloat garbage remains. Colonies of caterpillars colonize, they make atmosphere. The thankful entomology promotes the social development of the species. A truck newcomer parked, it knocked down with the back wheels aimlessly. He got to swallow in the estate crater-shaped. His driver learned with King David: "the abyss fire the abyss". The gear seemed one of the rivers of the Hells.
- My Mentor… is Apocalypse Now version?
- No… it is our sea of the existence.
- Without waves? Without fishermen?
- The street was cleaned up four times. They instructed as she should live at a building. The renters make merchant's ears. The sanitations got tired, they abandoned us to the luck. It lacks ignition for these things and slates. They are vernacular, primeval venatic. They are used of that as revenge stratagem. They own the morbid pleasure of the destruction.

Image: Angola em fotos

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