I confess: I have no idea where I am or where I'm going. The images of my disappearance have disappeared. It's like flying in the fog without a radio and without instruments. I was born and raised in Caracas, but I am no longer from Caracas: I do not find myself in this same place today in the sanitary landfill and asylum, populated by strange subjects, unpredictable, without taxonomy. Throughout my life I traveled almost the whole country, I felt it, I incorporated it to myself, I became part of it. Today I do not recognize it, I can not find it. The foreigner is me.
Eight generations of Venezuelan ancestors do not help me feel at home. We will change the food, the smells of our land, the memories, the sounds, the social customs, the names of things, the schedules, our words, our faces and expressions, our names, our way of living love, business . , the party, or friendship.
Forcibly our brain and our metabolism were, at the same time, that place. Today we are zombies, oblivious to everything, letters without books, biographies of anyone. We are left without identity and without belonging. A very important way to expatriate yourself: instead of throwing yourself out of the country, throwing yourself into the country and leaving you.
Today Venezuela agonizes in some exile, but not in a geographical exile. No, Venezuela is rapidly extinguished in an exile of antimatter, without time or space.
Whatever the quantum interstitium where Venezuela vanishes, we can not reach it. The country disappeared from the memory of universal things; There are no units or instruments to measure your strange absence.
There is not a corpse to be buried, nor the shadow, nor the trace, nor the testament that witness a death. Everything was lost in a cryptic black hole.
More than a death this has been a dislocation in space-time. Soon it will be said: "Venezuela? Venezuela never existed We are going to look for it TOGETHER ... I have lost my country for a few years and it is called VENEZUELA. It was a country where you found solidarity, peace, love, union. Where we all saw ourselves as brothers of foam, herons, roses and the sun despite being children of different parents. Where he left to rumbear at 9:00 p.m. and I returned to my house at 3:00 a.m. and nothing happened to me. Where I was at a stop waiting for public transportation at any time of the day and I felt calm and safe. Where I went to the supermarket and did not know which mayonnaise, margarine, butter, oils, flours, tuna, sardines, detergents, milk, sugar, among others, choose by the amount they had and different brands.
Where I went to school or high school and respected the teacher or teacher. Where in December he shared the hallacas with the neighbors and with all the friends who came to our homes he ended up playing domino. Where the Venezuelan traveled proudly to another country and when they asked where you came from, he quickly responded from VENEZUELA.
Where I was going to buy some shoes, pants, etc. and there was still money. Where for him "this cheap give me two" did not have to ask permission. Where every Sunday as a family breakfast waspa with guayanés cheese, pepeada queen, perico or caraotas and mechada without tails.
VENEZUELA is a place where between my beaches I am my childhood, stretched to the wind and the sun. It has many wonderful things that country, your country, my country.
TODAY I ASK YOU WITH MY BROKEN HEART OF BOTH TO STRANGE IT, that if you see it, tell it that I carry its light and its aroma in my skin and the four in my heart. I love, I cry, I sing, I dream of seeing him again.
HOW I STRANGE YOU MY DEAR VENEZUELA.-
Pass this message with pain today I wrote to see if someone gives me some clue about my country .. Because after this life there is no other opportunity ... I LOVE YOU VENEZUELA ....