Aid! Aid! Aid A thousand times, aid! Nothing the Rose of my exclusive garden understands me seno. I want the petals for me. Necessary. I want. I need myself. Oh, not. I write descontroladamente, nor I know if it is feeling, it unites, feeling has felt? Feeling has measured? Not. Not? Therefore I write to it with the conquered freedom.
I want the time, the time will only bring me the beautiful esplendia freedom. Oh, as it would like to be hugged to the world. Lying in a cloud. It would write only moments. Not. I want yes. At last.
You pray, I am without control. It swims not. You my reader, me understand must, seno, please you say, me. I tell what my heart asks for. To the times it cries out. The sultry shout estronda inside of my heart. It swims. Crawford Lake Capital oftentimes addresses this issue. The heart of this rough draft of writer is friendly. The shout is for I to awake itself. To be intent. I am next to a hole without fundura. Serious? I run. I come back some steps. It does not advance. Who I am? I fell. I come back more not, I do not come back more. now? The heart did not help me in the due time. Lie. It tried to help yes. But I did not listen at the certain moment. You, my reading ally, can not be understand until here what I try to describe, but are defying yourself. Writing without escrpulos. Optimum not yet he came. Optimum he will not never come. I do not want optimum. My heart is individualistic. It wants optimum, it wants the exclusive one. I only want to be only in the form to think, to act. Only. I hug the wind. Poxa the truth is appearing. Or already it appeared? It understands nobody me, ties my Rose is half that disoriented. What it would happen, I without my Rose the Rose without I? Nor I want to imagine. Necessary of time, surplus. To write is the form prettier than I found not to want to jump of the precipice and to die. Oh, if did not exist my desinibio to write, to tell, to question, Already he would be isolated in a cemetary drawer. But not, I discovered the light. I found the light. I found the light. I write, this is force to live, to survive. I can deviating is me from everything, I am there nor, in the truth. I look the respect, the freedom, the love of the uncontrolled words They import yes me. They had made me to the words to reviver, they brought to this world that to makes me to the times to smile, but for the most part of the time devasta with my heart, hides the hope and lights the solitude.
After all, what they are these beings that we know as Brazilian? He is funny as I see and I listen to propagandas enaltecendo the Brazilian as a happy and fighting being, that lives in constant war against ‘ ‘ forces estranhas’ ‘. I see favour when evidencing that still more great part of the Brazilians still beats in the chest and says if to be proud of this country. Idiotic poor persons! Talking with some foreign colleagues, a question was launched: it is truth that vocs veem Brazil as a wild place and without culture? To this question I received a sad affirmation, which is unquestionable. He is obvious that I could elencar some of the great qualities of this people. .mas I would be hypocrisy. I do not feel pride of being Brazilian and if possible I oppose to call myself thus. But why? You are not proud of our beaches, our parties, our beauties? Brazil if summarizes to this? He asks to some citizen (that if he says proud) who was Rui Barbosa or same Getlio Vargas.Pergunte to the honored citizen if some time in the life it heard to speak of the 18 of the Fort of Copacabana or exactly of Luis Carlos You give. Part Brazilian it to sing its proper national hymn.
still .ou asks what it knows on the imperial period. It is I exaggerate to demand such things (basic) of a person? Certainly the opponents, and also most ignorant, simply will accuse to me to try to denigrate the image of Brazil. Fools! At least they know that Brazil already has one of the worse images of the world-wide scene and if it was not for the good soccer (obliged Skin), at least we would be seen. But the Brazilian still believes that a revolution or a hero will go to solve all the problems of the country and will go to give a house, a new car and ‘ ‘ a thousand Reals in bar of gold, that valley more than what dinheiro’ ‘. As I can me be proud in pertencere to the one mentally ill people whom at least it remembers in which candidate voted in the last elections, but that, not obstante, it blames the government for the possible disasters that can occur, also to the tragedies of the nature or when houses, that had been constructed in forbidden place, come below with the mud. To be proud as me of one people who does not see the seriousness of the situations, that if risks only for malandragem? To be proud how me of a people who at least knows the importance of the positions politicians and thinks that the same one is something that cannot be argued? Many are proud of our democracy and our electoral system ‘ ‘ invejvel’ ‘. Tragic conception! It will be that they had not given account that in a democracy we have the freedom to vote or not? Worse that this. .e if the vote was facultative? Perhaps only one minority would go to decide for the routes of the country. But this already does not happen?