The Unidentifiable beauty of Spring.
Life just brightens up a bit, doesn’t it, when the temperature rises, the sun claims a few more hours to shine each day and raindrops are more often driven back into the clouds. Not that anything really changes, certainly not. Annoying people keep being the assholes they’ve always been, politicians are still politicians, bullets are still killing people and, although the sun is browning their skin a bit, racists will stay convinced of being part of a supreme race. The roads around the villages are still paved with vibrating bumps and holes in the old tarmac, the monthly income provides the wallet with a content for two and a half weeks, the agents from MEO still try to sell a new contract every second day by computer randomized calls, Mariana Mortágua still makes sensible statements that aren't taken seriously by the corrupt political elite and I’m holding on to that bluezy dark feeling that winter brought a few seasons ago. The punishment for the enjoyment of a few sunny days comes down as hailstones out of a Gatling gun, fired from grey clouds that fill the April sky.
.The wind, that blows the sails of the fortunate elite keeps coming from the east and makes the luxurious yachts getting in a traffic jam before the locks of the Panama Canal. Especially the ones that collect taxes are avoiding payment themselves by making the world believe their living in winter, while in reality, they’re bribing the sun to shine the whole year round on their parallel universe. Like the Podesta brothers in the USA, one being a big-money bundler for the Hillary Clinton presidential campaign while the other is the chairman of that campaign, the chief architect of her plans to take the White House this November. Thru the Panama Papers, it turned out that they are lobbyists for Vladimir Putin’s personal bank of choice, an arm of his Kremlin and its intelligence services, The Sberbank. In fact, Putin is financing Clinton to become the next president of the United States, an obvious sign of how corrupt and devious worldwide politics are. Rich among rich, with only one goal, defending their own lifestyle and power by any means, even war and attacks on their own country’s inhabitants.
.It’s Spring and it is such a rewarding feeling to be outside without a raincoat or an umbrella in just your Adam’s costume looking over your own little piece of paradise and, although noticing that the weeds grow faster than the vegetables our flowers, realizing that all the previous effort is rewarded with a secure and cosy place to live in at a few square meters of land, you can call your own. The size doesn’t matter, the luxury isn’t important, just the fact that you can rely on a little spot in this big world to go home to and lay yourself to rest without worrying about some military bulldozers demolishing your house. It’s Spring, that time when children’s laughter fills the schoolyard, well except of course from those who’s schools get torn down a few days after they’ve opened. No matter what the international society does or says, the Israeli war criminals keep doing what they’re good at in the country that they converted into a concentration camp. Spring began in the village of Abu Nuwar, next to one of the West Bank’s largest illegal Israeli settlements: Maale Adumim, with the opening of a school that was built from French aid money in February, a day after the opening of the school, Israeli authorities demolished it. It’s still Spring, but the darkness of a heartless and greedy elite keeps a whole nation in the shadow.
Spring is in the air, it must be, because the garden has 50 shades of colour more than a few weeks ago. It must be because the first outside diner already took place. It must be because my middle-aged eyes saw the first pair of beautiful long legs underneath a short skirt passing by. It must be because dozens of inappropriately dressed elderly tourists stepped out of the fake-train at Praça da República showing their camel shorts and sloshing pale upper-arms. The unidentifiable beauty of Spring awakes in the remembrance on how life used to be before all these long winters. It’s still early in the season, maybe Spring will blossom into a warm period full of love, friendship and happiness for all people. Although that bluezy feeling belongs to my image and isn’t that worrying, for those less fortunate, the first few days, however, aren’t that promising….
.The wind, that blows the sails of the fortunate elite keeps coming from the east and makes the luxurious yachts getting in a traffic jam before the locks of the Panama Canal. Especially the ones that collect taxes are avoiding payment themselves by making the world believe their living in winter, while in reality, they’re bribing the sun to shine the whole year round on their parallel universe. Like the Podesta brothers in the USA, one being a big-money bundler for the Hillary Clinton presidential campaign while the other is the chairman of that campaign, the chief architect of her plans to take the White House this November. Thru the Panama Papers, it turned out that they are lobbyists for Vladimir Putin’s personal bank of choice, an arm of his Kremlin and its intelligence services, The Sberbank. In fact, Putin is financing Clinton to become the next president of the United States, an obvious sign of how corrupt and devious worldwide politics are. Rich among rich, with only one goal, defending their own lifestyle and power by any means, even war and attacks on their own country’s inhabitants.
.It’s Spring and it is such a rewarding feeling to be outside without a raincoat or an umbrella in just your Adam’s costume looking over your own little piece of paradise and, although noticing that the weeds grow faster than the vegetables our flowers, realizing that all the previous effort is rewarded with a secure and cosy place to live in at a few square meters of land, you can call your own. The size doesn’t matter, the luxury isn’t important, just the fact that you can rely on a little spot in this big world to go home to and lay yourself to rest without worrying about some military bulldozers demolishing your house. It’s Spring, that time when children’s laughter fills the schoolyard, well except of course from those who’s schools get torn down a few days after they’ve opened. No matter what the international society does or says, the Israeli war criminals keep doing what they’re good at in the country that they converted into a concentration camp. Spring began in the village of Abu Nuwar, next to one of the West Bank’s largest illegal Israeli settlements: Maale Adumim, with the opening of a school that was built from French aid money in February, a day after the opening of the school, Israeli authorities demolished it. It’s still Spring, but the darkness of a heartless and greedy elite keeps a whole nation in the shadow.
Spring is in the air, it must be, because the garden has 50 shades of colour more than a few weeks ago. It must be because the first outside diner already took place. It must be because my middle-aged eyes saw the first pair of beautiful long legs underneath a short skirt passing by. It must be because dozens of inappropriately dressed elderly tourists stepped out of the fake-train at Praça da República showing their camel shorts and sloshing pale upper-arms. The unidentifiable beauty of Spring awakes in the remembrance on how life used to be before all these long winters. It’s still early in the season, maybe Spring will blossom into a warm period full of love, friendship and happiness for all people. Although that bluezy feeling belongs to my image and isn’t that worrying, for those less fortunate, the first few days, however, aren’t that promising….
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