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.

segunda-feira, 29 de agosto de 2011

Three years later

The last images are recorded, very clear in the heart of my photographic memory. Your smiles of pride pursue me when you saw me, you protected, in my child games always in the challenge of the eminent danger, and your hands and your heart always in alert state, as if you were a great protecting eagle with two great homelike wings and you flew, and with your claws affectionately you caught me and you suspended in your touching lap.
And for among laughter’s, rushes and shouting’s the time of the years elapsed and child's body no longer if he saw, juvenile he felt.
The maternal love is only in the Nature and in the World, and if he disappears, of the life it will just remain a memory string, of one times in that a species existed what somebody called human.
It is abandoned to the days of the life memorized each gesture, each sound… he discovered, it foresaw the future.
Of the monsters of the human cruelty you protected me, almost that you didn't sleep. Humans and inhuman they belong to the same animal species.
And when in my child ingenuousness it pulled the flowers that you affectionately watered, you caressed as if they were other children, your children, and between screams and harsh gestures it squeezed them, showing that among us humans, the violence is always present. But easily corrected by the lessons of the mammy's demonstration that it explains to us that the flowers when mistreated cry also.
And in rumbling of the storms, and in the orange of the rays he woke up of fright, because he heard trembling deafening of the stranger, he screamed desperate: Mammy! Mammy! Mammy!
And you always loving: ready my son, be not afraid, the mammy is already here.
And full of peacefulness and happiness agglutinated back to sleep to her body, in a desire that such it never ended, and that my mother never lacked me.
While we lived didn't recognize our mothers' deserved value. And after her departure forever, lying in the arms of the death we remembered, we wanted, we felt the lack of her presence, of their suits pieces of advice, of their constants words transformed in smiles.
The time passes, it perishes, but mother's love never forgets, forever it stays.

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