- Nothing else to realize, it has gone in April, with all its intensities and colors. It has left us hot, temperate and cold days. Rainbow and ice. Torrential rain and heat sheet. As the few newborn lambs walk through the prairie, the knife interrupts the breath of the three sheep they have lived. When the sheep is entering the world two lambs, vultures eat bapo. Milk collected twice a day is already stored in the cheese chamber where it is cured. On 13 April came the first cheeses of this year, all blue. The month of April has welcomed the days dedicated to all kinds of fights and book spaces. Fights and books join April.
April 17 was the international day of peasant struggles. In our calendar, at least, more important than San Ixidro Day. Ephemeris hidden in the heart, which we live daily, remembering the nineteen peasants killed by the Brazilian police in 1996. In many parts of the world struggles for land are still alive, the survivors try to get rid of the peasants' bodies with the mud of injustice.
However, there are places that are missing from our tears. Gauze, for example. Just as there is a shortage of blood in hospitals, there are not enough tears here to clean up those bodies and stop bleeding. Transplantation of olive trees extracted by Zionists. Scream enough to silence the hum of the explosives.
Here struggles take on other forms, for the moment. More subtle in most cases; intriguing, often pornographic. It is often difficult to separate the grain from the straw, and we are not able to save specimens between the threads of social media. Suddenly, he has known that every day a farmer commits suicide in the French State, for example. There are many ways of killing, explosives are not the only weapon. The presence of known and suicidal friends also embody the meaning of your struggle.
And we've known it because someone has picked it up. Because he's collected in the corpses with blood and tears on paper with ink, like our grandmothers in the apron, one by one, carefully, so that the grain is not lost. Are we aware of the importance of writers and the importance of writers?
Many times, what is received has an intention, a will, in the choice of each word: posterior metamorphosis, fertilization of the grain. Why write, if not, in Brazil, in Gaza or in mountain suicides, if not to achieve life in these territories?
When we talk about book day, after all, we are talking about those revolutionary notaries. Be careful not to confuse with the secretaries of the courts, who are not writers, but venerators of the winners.
That books keep the existence of rollovers and the lives of anonymous revolutionaries so that life may fall asleep in the future.
I see that those April, together with the quota, we are alive.