Ulysses dips the mind, sweetly in the seas foamy, superficial oceanic crystals. She happen a beach that is delighted with the horizontal nakedness of Penelope. The melodious undulation arises and it goes down the sand that leans appearing, refreshing the desire of the rousing epidermis. Penelope sits down, it fills the hands of sand and it goes them by the breasts that increase in volume, later it sinks them in the pubis, in the vagina of the loyalist absence. She looks distant for the infinite ocean, and she comes off:
- My husband, in the seas where you navigate is easy face the fury of the waves. In Ithaca I don't support the waves of the human bad weather that they pursue me. Last days are lost, unrecoverable. Everything seedling. Only beating of the waves of the sea stays unalterable. If the people went like this…
Ulysses full of vocation in the excited earth uses the fatigue of the hoarseness.
- But they are not, they will never be!
- But they like moments of those similarities… they behave as seals.
- They behave as crazy, they live in crazy cars, in crazy highways, that are altercated crazily. Like this it is the civilization.
In the boat, five men of the foreigners' service awaited us patiently. Mentor and Ulysses notice the confusion of the incongruous stationary vagrancy. A, cooks the palms of the hands in bain-marie, he strengthens the seasonings ready to serve. Sad, it explains whiny:
- We facilitated the foreigners' illegal entrance, for later to the exit we made money.
With certain fraud they demanded five thousand dollars. Mentor dissuaded them in a slope of two thousand.
Mentor and Ulysses are on board. Mentor invites me:
- It comes! You and us in the patera, heading for Gomera… later Ulysses leaves you in Ithaca.
And I went.
The Nature continued to paint with paint of water. Their brushes seemed cellos in the glasses of the window. The water ran, it seemed that she was in a hurry in arriving to her destiny. She wanted to become distracted, and the distraction is the corruption of the mind.
To walk to the rope, to screen without wheat to sift… the hunger is a political subject. The politicians divide the wheat fields amongst themselves. In the streets, the salespersons resell the surpluses of GDP. This life stink he stink the drink. She reminds unanswerable championship of barrels of alcoholic gunpowder, fermented in the immensity inquisitorial. She hovers, the probable monotonous song is resented from the return to the weapons, to the death, to the destruction.
Exporters of petroleum, importers of alcohol. Slaves cloning in the sleep, of the slave dream of eighteen quilombos.* Frustrated in the marshy aroma of the freedom. Without formation, the slave frees continues in the slavery. Submissive in the flooded sky of black clouds of IMF.
*Fortified camp of the jagas, design. attributed to the people that invaded Congo and Angola in the end of the sXVI. In dictionary Houaiss.
Image: Angola em fotos