Suddenly the atmosphere suffers storm. Two rude safeties manifest pain of the soul. One narrates for the friends the last events. He asks support, but the friends are limited to hear him, because to the minimum it slides lose the job.
-… The director of the company of the vanguard Politburo presented laments: He discovered that some reward disappeared of the safes. He goes then, anything easier than to blame the safeties. The obscure proselyte, which fossil hulk of Miocene ordered: "call the police Politburo". The police arrived, he gave them the necessary amount for the investigations and they acted immediately. They meditated for four safeties, they dragged us and they had fun a lot of hours the plated to give them with cutlass in the backs and in the faces. In an of them, the Politburo pulled him the nails of the fingers of the hands. Then they threw us for housing with the bones so kneaded that somebody remembered to say: "that bone paste gives to do elastic tablet."
- Mentor… is mental disease?
- Hum, hum. They promised those worlds and bottoms, the eternal happiness. In the beginning it is easy to abuse of the people's good faith, with many electoral promises that they get lost in the gales. Many dividends are removed, but with the time everything collapses. It is as the life imprisonment.
I was ahead in a street where was listened an ode to the automobile. Horns roared, they trumpeted metallic choir of harmony with human voices. He seemed really an immense mental hospital. So many raving mad to the free! Some erect fists were anxious fearsome. The explanation jumped to the view: an enormous abandoned container in the street obstructed the senses of the traffic. No car enters or he left. I satisfied my curiosity in a motorist:
- Is this street conditioned to park of containers parking?
- Not! The driver abandoned the container at five in the morning, and he continued… he set sail for the spree with the truck.
- And how it belongs her a company of a Politburo, we cannot make anything… or else we took in the horns.
Mentor's cottage didn't pay the low attention when we arrived. He seemed that the wavy foils that covered the roof smiled with our presence. More foils zinc coating surrounded the cottage. Against them I sand him and the water of the close sewer rowed, they steered for uncertain destiny. Mentor opened the Gothic door and we entered. He diffused in a candle, he lit her. The shadows of the objects were revealed as ghosts. I took care when sitting down in a chair out of the flock. He had a vulnerable heel. I guarded against, I it carefully in the wall. Suspicious, if the structure would resist to the pressure. Mentor smiled, it presents explanations:
- You know, he doesn't give to have a house in conditions. Only the indispensable minimum, because when the attackers and the predators of the demolitions of the Politburo arrive, she doesn’t get to steal anything, they catch him fire. We assumed an obligation to live in the Gothic style. Light is impossible… at night appearances of ghost pliers that cut the figures of the immaterial cables are plentiful. He looks… we have to render attention to the candles, some seem that they explode.
Image: Angola em fotos