It was the transportation of our rare acquisitions, our teacher's cry orders, our chants, our mother's sack. It was the other times. Now we are the ones who cast a cry, a Marlaska by law, an Ares by radio, and we are the ones who cast a cry. The deliberative orders that are ours do not paralyse us, although they need us in silence. And once again we have shown them that they are not going to stop us, that for each of the Basque political prisoners who are called criminals we are about 150 travellers, that we are able to leave the hikers of Euskal Herria without a bus. The journey that the acquisition organizers decided was not enough to bring all the attendees to the walk, to see the Etxerat singing with the breath of those of us who were firmly anchored in the sidewalks. However, ruling teachers behave in the same way as kings who ask for honesty, like the smoking doctor who preaches the whip of tobacco. It is time to carry out extensive protection around each of the prisoners, neighborhoods, towns, cities, valleys, buses. An organized autoclave across the nation. We're waiting for Txofer.