There are mornings when, more 'other times, I read good things. This morning was one of those. But, apart from the more sober and encouraging words of friends, who fortunately there to make the lightness of the soul otherwise cumbersome, I find a blog, reported by Kataweb.
A complaint perhaps trivial, for now the climate of terrorism and liabilities of the wickedness of this time. A complaint with an open heart and painful. Sore and bleeding. Defeated maybe not.
all depends on us, we 'others' from our disgust for certain city chronicles, the approval by our rejection, our desire for revenge. Of revolution.
Otherwise ... what kind of world are we rushing?
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