Paraphrasing Albert Camus: you would not shoot so much on the crowds if of them you knew how to extract the maximum.

There I acquired the certainty; I am entitled of rioting because they don’t let to feed. Almost stocking century badly driven for the forbidden traffic of the sharks where one cannot love. Nor the wheat lets to sow us. In the fields no cultivated weapons in them will plant. The problem of the hunger is already resolved, they will eliminate us and they won't have more expenses to support us. They have a long time for us to shoot, for us to kill us. Nor one second for us to love. They spent us our lives in the falsehood of the elections. And we suffered with those disillusions, because until they prohibited us the formation of a political party of the love.

They see each other in the faces of the crowds, the avidity of the retreat of the mask of the democracy and of the liberation that they never happened. Anything if it moved, just the overpowering slavery of some that call him the new life found in the committees of defence of the revolution. Finally the people follow her glorious march and the power waits for them. And everything rejuvenates in a matured jasmine and in another that blunts and they perfume us the life. It is not possible in the times today to live side by side with dictators. Their minds are as very, very dry deserts, they snap her, they burst her, and they stun her.

Paraphrasing Albert Camus: you would not shoot so much on the crowds if of them you knew how to extract the maximum.

The desire that if he doesn't sit down, it stays insensitive

Our senses, pursued by the sales of the unconscious system, they accomplish; they buy in agreement with the programmed instructions. There is a lot that we stopped being who are, proceeded in a highway to the rhythm of the consumption of the imposition that our senses only distinguish, a direction: the acquaintance's direction, because of the stranger nothing knows, because they don't leave us. They fear that the mysterious side of the life appears and reveal us the truth.

Those on whom we voted for drive our destiny for the grandiose is worth of the poverty. It is think still they are illuminated, you guarantee of our everyday one and of our future.

And we continued in this stagnation because they reduced us the secrets of the pyramids. And no longer have we known how to build them.

More and more they limit us, they steal us the time, until that we are hopelessly without him. Is it later, what will make? Is it possible to live without time?

The mother caressed her tender little daughter's head, but she didn't get that she stopped with the cry. No, she was not hungry, it was not also sick, it was healthy, beautiful as her progenitor. But, because it didn't stop her then of crying? Already one had searched and leaned over many doctors with their medicines, but anything. Until that they disenchanted a mystic doctor, of those that nickname of nuts, but crazy nowadays it is who knows of the things, and him, in an apex it cured her. The disease? It was one more victim of the epidemic of the civilization.

To rest, to navigate, to walk, and to dream the love, as in a feminine face of damsel to garden in the perfume jasmine. With love he is born a woman and a jasmine. And their perfumes exalt us, because with love our mother generated us. And with love you will always be mother, and you will never complain. With love you will be universalized, immortalized.

Hercules is the force; the political parties are the farce, our fork. Our weakness lives in the actual political class of the bank democracy and oil.

House salts, you enter in the street and in her you get lost. And however you walk for instinct, as all do automatically. And in that noisy agitation you don't get to think. That primordial function, merge of our outraged aspirations. We always moved in the turbulent waves of the sea multitudinous, without time to love, without time to dream. Just to lament the past, in the hope that finally they invent the machine of the time, and in her we travel in the infinite of the love and of the dream. He is very difficult to meet again the love, because the diabolism peeps us, he waits for us in the cliffs of the palaces. And you predict: without love you will never be mine, nor of anybody, nor of you.

Two democracies: a Westerner, and the other?

The slowness (for not saying cowardice) with that the western countries - especially the one of Europe reacted, hesitating first face to the that was to happen and, soon after, with empty declarations of good intentions in favour of a negotiated solution, instead of supporting the rebels, he will have to have caused a terrible deception to the millions of demonstrators that left to the streets in Arab countries, asking for "freedom" and "democracy" and they discover that the free countries looked at us with distrust and per times panic. And to prove, among other things, that the political parties of Mubarak and Ben Ali were members actives of the International Socialist! “- Mário Vargas Llosa, Nobel Prize the Literature

The virus of the democracy

"The bug of the democracy bit and the virus will disperse quickly for the political organism of the Arab world. The rest of the humanity should help this good virus to spread and to generate the pandemic of the democracy." - Mondi Makhamya, South African commentator

That banality, to present the love as merchandise

The green vegetation flowed in the water of the river, and the agitation of the it goes and it comes from the gentle wind, it threw silver sun drops on the surface of the river. Birds, thankful for so divine gift, they typed in yours to chatter. Everything thanked, because it seemed, no, everything is a symphony of Beethoven.

The girl played in the creek, and the flowers pursued her. She moved away them obstinately, and the flowers folded again the persecution. The girl laughed, laugh, and laugh. She looked and he forced the creek to change of position. And the flowers were so embarrassed, and the very angry girl, beat them a lot, of kissing. And them, the flowers, cried a lot. The moved girl said for the creek to return to the that was before. And the flowers returned to the persecution. And the girl laughed, laugh, laugh.

Everything is composed of symphonies. Without a doubt that the Universe is you of this discloser. Our life is a symphony very badly orchestrated in those that we voted for the power, and whose orchestra is always very badly out of tune. Never forget: he always struggles for happy beings.

Our brain gets happy, he surprises with the musical sounds that they penetrate him. And the stress is expired. It is very easy be happy, but a small group that governs the world, that doesn't want exists, and it hates us when we exhibited the love. The perfect balance of the Nature exists because there they govern the sublime laws of the love. The Nature is God, and the rest a waste of time. With so much evident dislike, it is latent the revenge, the extermination of the human species. To love the love of the Nature is the fundamental.

If all are children of the Universe, because only some do the same ones, of him always benefit? To be poor is a sin; to be rich is good to the eyes of God. I will never understand him the more the Church shouts for God, and our poverty doesn't stop increasing. No, it is not because we left of believing in God, but the Church with her millenarian hypocrisy, easily destroyed God. Putting an end to the hypocrisy of the Church, God will approach us, and he will judge, and it will condemn the false priests that insist on speaking on behalf of the kingdom of God, always chosen fraudulently.

And they grew up many roads and none knows which our destiny is. And the winds are anxious dropping the only destiny that remains us strongly: the love. We are a lost crowd in the sands left by driving shore of the marine to revolution. And their grains are mixed, they are anxious, such and which us. And they proceed rapturous for skimming of waving of the sea.

We convinced ourselves that we are very strong, but before an unexpected misfortune we revealed our proverbial weakness. The viruses attack us, because we are the ideal receptacle. In the bottom, we are a laboratory viral in constant mutation for us to destroy our fellow creatures.

They promised us that the cities would be an oasis where we would live eternally happy. Now, to believe on who promises us the paradise of the life, the Sky in the Earth, strengthens the ingenuousness, and it leads the imbecile and rabbles unavoidably to the power.

There is always an immense pleasure, when the real estate speculators, leaning for the power, clear, they destroy the trees that purify our oxygen, the maintenance of our lungs and they prolong the life of our hearts. For these situations I defend the creation of militia’s popular for us to defend the Nature of her main predator: the real estate speculators that they are shielded in the false democrats.

At this time in that you walk cannot affirm that you make him with full freedom. On the contrary, you move with extreme caution, because the enemies of the love pursue you and neglect your defences. You never imagined seeing uncommon people to sell love in all of the lost corners of the life. That banality, to present the love as merchandise. And us so cowards that we consented him. It is that horrible thing to see the love ballast in the streets of the perdition. And the only thing that remains us: will it be that we will get to relive the suits connections of this passenger love?

But, what does intend him more to spoil the Bank Millennium Angola?

Illegally located in the street Rei Katyavala 109, Zé Pirão, Luanda. He spoiled the land, they maintain a generator that murders slow and certainly for the death the residents of the building. Now, 13 Jan11, two Portuguese mercenaries removed about a three dozens of pictures, to who was or it appeared at the balconies of the building, and other places, as in an espionage mission. In fact they seek an excuse for us to spoil us the building. The Portuguese the banks are failed and Portugal also, evident. Now they do come for Angola to restart another colonization war? It is not them enough the destruction of Portugal? Look! The economic situation and social for here it is too dangerous. Don't incite more the spirits, because only of thinking in the one that at present happens, and to proceed it will happen, it causes chills.

Winds of our soul

And for among storms they still move our subdued longings, destroyed millenarian. And in the power barbaric dictators that close us in the hateful dungeons on behalf of the love insist. But the winds blow the dictators to her origin place: the Hell. That strange, until the flowers they take delight in her beauty frees.

The Sun freed her light and the insects renewed her work of floral adoration. The moved Nature hugged them and they restarted the dance of the day by day. And all became enchanted, they celebrated. Fast, the end of the day approached, the Sun hid. And already all tired, they returned to their rest places. To proceed another day it will come, and again it will be celebrated.

When we noticed that the days are short, it is because we reached the summit of the maturity. It is more and more the days if they reduce us, and us, already expenses for the time of the age that seems us weigh as lead. It is then, we intended to accomplish in a short life space that we didn't get in the long trajectory that we travelled. But even so we didn't give up, and we tried the final ardour.

Strong’s or weak as the destiny? Maybe never we know him. To live is to dream with the inconstant to can that in the mismanage, it consumes us. And the politicians commit the same mistakes. Until that they already crossed the scale of the foolishness, and we abandoned ourselves to the flavour of their politics without sense. Until that we ended in the poverty moral, social and economic. There are democracies that healthier than a pure breakdown.

We looked at the streets of our cities and he seems to see us an immense colony of human ants that they move seemingly in the same direction. This is living of the mazes that impose us, the poison that everyday is given a present us. There is a lot that we moved without sense. The cities developed a lot, now they are gigantic concrete cemeteries, and we cement him.

During the day we make many desires for the other that we didn't accomplish. It is equally in the other following. We make promises to us same that we didn't value. We are not honest with our soul. It is slowly felt to destroy us. And we renewed the promises to us same that we insisted on not accomplishing. I believe that it is this that he calls himself still to play to live.

For something to insist in the models of the cities if there it governs the disorder, the robbery, the organized crime. We always walked in the fear of at any moment suffer an assault. So much and tender youth disappointed precocious, abated, lost. And our heart sufferer observes so much dislike. The end of the cities approaches, because her conception is brilliant of aberration.