Stories and News No. 920
Today's strike in Italy and many protest, but, lifting our gaze across the border, people have also raised in Ethiopia, where 1500 were arrested, in Congo, where the so-called security forces shot, burned, beaten and killed at least 45 civilians, and also in the Philippines two days ago, where the police used a van to disperse the alleged troublemakers.
There are other worlds besides this.
I like to think that, sometimes, when things get too ugly to be looked at.
I have to do, when I am not even able to imagine.
Of strikes and protests, for example.
Strikes and protests one of them is woven of.
A spherical world, as the best known should be, but much less regular.
Hard stuff to draw, in fact.
Part of that convoluted table of illegal forms, called by the experts of freedom, the geometry of awkward shapes.
It is a strange world to draw, I agree, but if you happen to grasp, even casually, the right end of the rope, you just have to follow the thread up to the light.
Nothing particularly bright, remember. We are still talking about forgotten souls, if you know what I mean.
However, understanding the muffled reasons has a brilliance that is worth even a fast touch sideways.
Are you there? Follow me, then.
Of strikes and protests, I said.
Come along the top of an apparently soft slender and is not a victory to prove it, but a stubborn kind of defeat. One that has brought us to return again, to remain standing when the stick bites and sitting when the pain increases.
It is a thin rope, almost invisible to the naked eye, but it is not accidental and is trivial, I admit. Because to fully see what unites us, never what divides, you need a far disrobed look.
Fill pupils and all the rest with human feelings and live emotions and you will see.
You will see what they do not.
You will see hands clinging to the rope, fingers of every color and size, but tightfitting to that as the body to the most mistreated quality in all the worlds.
Read as well as the stubborn affection for the rights of all.
You will also see the hands that have lost their precious foothold and those who sacrificed one of the two to keep on board the others.
You will see the warmth of those same hands.
And despite the mutation of traditions and words, complexions and stories, this energy feeds from the beginning of time the life that resists to life.
The one which is not of this world nor the others, because since it has abused its very nature, has given up the only true citizenship we share.
Nevertheless it slaughters lives as if it were their absolute master.
Of strikes and protests a world has tied, where the day will come that the tyrant will fall, believe me.
They always do.
And if you will be lucky and patient, sooner or later, you will see that too.
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