Despicable Mourning

“We are in mourning. For ALL the lost lives in Rio de Janeiro during these 39 days of 2019, we are in mourning.
For the six dead after the storm.
For the ten dead in the fire in the Vulture’s Nest.
For the thirteen dead in the police operation in the Favela of the Pleasures.
And for all the dead that didn’t make it to the news.”

(I don’t understand the world I live anymore. Innocent or criminal, you are all the same.)

Six people died because of heavy rains that ravaged Rio two days ago. Yesterday, just before dawn, ten youths between the ages of fourteen and sixteen were burned alive in a fire at the Flamengo training center. Shortly after, thirteen armed criminals were killed by the police in a violent favela. What, besides the Angel of Death hovering in the skies, is common among all three cases? According to one of the city’s largest newspapers and, of course, to a bunch of idiots across social networks, the answer is obvious: EVERYONE is a poor innocent victim.

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Living dead

“I’ve lost all my youth in there… I’m a living dead.”
If it depended on me, you’d be just dead.

Two facial expressions: one bursting with mirth, the other, frowning with sorrow. A homage to the muses of comedy and tragedy? A symbol of live theatre? No. Cop killer. The AK-47 is just a confirmation. The pistol tattooed on his calf, another. Three cards: Ace, Five and Seven (Art. 157: “Armed robbery”), yet another. I say he should have been dead by now. “I’m a living dead”, he agrees.

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First Day of Work

I got to work thinking about police cars; I got home thinking about sheep.

The flames of the celestial battlefield remained on the horizon, declaring the day’s imminent victory. Before the white wall, police cars were dark pieces of night, deserters of a lost war. They filled the whole right edge of the extensive patio leading to CORE, parked at near right-angles, skewed toward the exit as if yearning to depart. In the past, I’d say they looked thirsty for combat; now, they were just homesick. Only I seemed to want to be there, since I came from the opposite way. But that was just an impression.

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