Before dying

 


Before dying, I will throw a plague against you, but while it does not happen I machine what I could do.

I think in any way. I will be cruel, you will have read publicly the reporters from public departments of art and culture from those ordinary authoritarian countries from the last decades.

Naturally, if you had not any literary knowledge, I would elect you as the must of the world in art and culture to be a candidate to exchange positions with any actual and singular dictatorship. 

They accept any purpose. As stupid as they are, they will support you.

It is until now my plague. I imagined you making some homage to slavers, misogynistic, ageist, country heroes or on the contrary such is the same.

If you do not have as to do that. I wait for you at the hell door.

Wait, and you will see.

I am someone who came from a place that never was. River water, calm lakes, waterfalls, edges where bushes and trees grow, the open field, the sky reflected in my hands in the trembling mirror of the river, the waits I am, this man lying in the river in the middle of autumn of my existence, loves his children, he likes to be alone, and he has a great company. I leave out the conceptual groups that put their finger on the face and follow fashion. I try not to be like that. In this boat, I am also the water where I sail. I take the sky with me, the fields, the flowers, and the fragrant herbs all my mornings. I am a being of the dawn. The scandal of nature in the voice of a bird, the incessant hum of the bells that insects make. I look like it, but I am not afraid of anything. I do not think I ever was. Indeed, my father, especially my mother, sweetly led me to read and write. I am always primary; I am still learning to read and write, row, and let the boat go safely. pmnt

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