Break broken

A break is not something far away from my expectations when writing starts. As soon as I start typing, my brain goes into panic mode and just stops thinking. Once I overcome that situation, words flow.

Right now that is not what happens. I have a clear idea of what I want to write but, if you’re a reader, you can guess what happens.

Today, words are scarce, just like my feelings and thoughts. Nothing that I read would help this situation. That’s how it feels to live in Venezuela. Day by day you numb yourself to the pain of not being able to do the basic things you need to.

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Photo: Francisco Bruzco

If you want to get a pill for you headache, you pray for luck. If you want to eat, you’ll roam the streets to see if you find something you can afford. If you want a hug, most people aren’t available to do that.

That’s what I’ve been witnessing the last couple of days

The National Army, the Police, and the Government are just handing out worries to people. Tenderness and touch have reached a second place among people. Sometimes you see old friends (the ones that are still here in Venezuela) and you hug like that was the only person who was available for such a pleasantry. Greetings are exchanged as goodbyes because you really don’t know if you’ll ever see that person ever again.

When you go home, nobody is there to hug or be hugged. Everyone is in their own business and no matter how loving your family is, hunger, desperation, anger, and all the feelings that come with this country are something not desirable to be dealt with.

Writing is an escape from everything. I guess that’s why so many classic authors wrote so many wonderful pieces around the time WWII was happening. Any way… this time had a break and sometimes this will happen. Everything is overwhelming.

Sorry about it.

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