Wednesday, November 4, 2009

The silent cry

Caracas, Venezuela November 4th, 2009

It was early when I arrived. The streets were packed with cars, bikes and people selling stuff, buying stuff, yelling stuff. I had just enough time to take a quick shower, grab a small coffee and head to work. While riding on the back of the car I started to look around, I tried to see beyond the obvious. And then it kicked me: to my left, a magnificent range of mountains covered with a dense and low fog... it was the sadest look of a city pretending everything is all right, trying to believe is going to be fine. A tree was emerging on one side, covered with white birds. They didn't sing, nor did they move. They were just there looking to the other side of the road, towards a mountain hiding from reality behind the wet hug of a selective fog, that was just covering the beautiful side of the street. The rest, was cristal clear. Or at least it was to me. That's how it felt anyway. The silent cry of a  country waiting for it's people to wake up from their collective numbness.

1 comment:

  1. On november 4th I would've expected a story or an ode about something important, like my birthday; not about the destiny of a puny nation.

    It amazes me how, even on this century, entire nations still put up with so many retrograde circumnstances. But don't go far: look at our own government.


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