All stories attempt to soften the truth. All
the truths aim to be history. The facts dream of being just words that are
diluted in the oblivion of time. It will be seen in this case that the truth
claims to be history but only in the imagination. What I come to tell you
happened in a land of peace where life was an indefinite article.
In that place the seeds did well, the green
stretched in gentle landscapes, the rice paddies ripened in time, the trees
gained height, dry and raining
seasons flowed in perfect synchronization; the rain poured …
All stories attempt to soften the truth. All
the truths aim to be history. The facts dream of being just words that are
diluted in the oblivion of time. It will be seen in this case that the truth
claims to be history but only in the imagination. What I come to tell you
happened in a land of peace where life was an indefinite article.
In that place the seeds did well, the green
stretched in gentle landscapes, the rice paddies ripened in time, the trees
gained height, dry and raining
seasons flowed in perfect synchronization; the rain poured joyous and blessed
granting to the land varieties of beauty and abundance. But one day
arrived unexpectedly the war. At the
beginning we talked about a tribal war.
What does a tribal war means in a country where eighteen tribes vying
for the power? It means that bad boys compete for the territory, the men and
the arguments. And also came along which I call "imperfection",
others prefer to call it "vice" from the earth of Whites.
So this story I'm about to begin will give me
the opportunity to detail.
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