Moriremos nosotros también

Our parents or grandparents or siblings died and it is clear that we too will die, each of his own, of anger, of disgust, of not having money to continue living, of exhaustion, of the old seven plagues or of one of the thousands that they bustle deep in the jungles or in state-of-the-art criminal laboratories -yes, I agree, we are also conspiratorial- because here, in this land of Cain, what counts are my dead and your dead, those who are always in the air, whatever time has passed, that's the least of it, my flag and yours, my temple and your tavern, my information and yours, my sickle and your razor, my club and yours, my gun and yours, my chasm and yours, my country and yours, the geography is the same for a long time... and so no one even knows when, until the end of time probably. We are in Cain's homeland, better not to forget him. In our scenario, the cainine floats in the air like a thick and intoxicating mist...