jueves, 4 de agosto de 2016


   When Jake entered the pharmacy, he went to grab every single item he had forgotten to get in the supermarket. Of course, everyone at home was mad at him because he hadn’t gotten every single thing they had been waiting for. Granted, he had been in charge of groceries and so on that week but he was too busy with the presentation of his next book coming so fast. The only thing on his mind was how not to feel overwhelmed again when telling people to buy their book.

 As he walked through the dental aisle, he remembered how he had started as a writer. The truth was that he had never really considerer writing as an option to win a living. After school, he had fallen in love with the idea of becoming a news presenter in television. For some strange reason, he had always thought those men and women were always the peak of the journalism profession as the used their faces and knowledge to make people learn about daily events.

 So he went to college and outdid himself in order to become a proper journalist. From the first moment, he knew he wanted to do an internship at the end of his career, one in a television channel in order to start climbing steps right there. He would become a sensation and people would discover him there and everything would be perfect for him. Each semester, he convinced himself his path to success had absolutely no floss and that he was in it to win it.

 Unfortunately, life is not about what we want but about what we get and do with it. The only internship available when he had to get one was in a editorial company involving books by the most boring authors he had ever heard. They published a lot of self-help books and guides to do things like learning yoga or how to make your dog a nice little cape. It was the only thing he could get and was obliged to stay there for a whole year.

 Suffice to say, the experience was a nightmare. Not only did his boss take her job a bit too seriously, the people he worked with were too sensitive about everything. Apparently one of the conditions to properly work there was to believe in all the crap they sold and he certainly did not buy any of that. However, he got his first writing gig there when his boss asked him to write something about anything, as long as they could fill their obligations of that period.

 Jake was annoyed by this obligation at first but then he realized he could use it to make something good. He had wanted to make something very focused on journalism but rather ended up writing the story of a disgruntled man who failed once and again when trying to become a real journalist. The small short story was a huge hit.

 As they really didn’t publish literature there, his boss was king enough to send his work to other places and he got a call from a company called Walrus Publishing when he was asked to come on board as an editor. Mind you, this was only months after graduating from college. The rest of his classmates had barely had a couple of job interviews. He was very lucky.

 He already had a large amount stuff in his basket at the pharmacy when he entered another aisle and laughed so hard some people turned around and looked at him as if he was mad. He had laughed because he had seen all the condoms on display and every time he saw those small packages, he remembered his first book.

 Work on it had started about two years after he had started working as an editor on Walrus. People were much nicer there than in his previous job and he really enjoyed everything that he did. However, he realized he wanted to keep writing so he did it on his spare time and planned to show his boss once he finished the whole story.

 It was going to be a science fiction dystopian novel about an invasion. He pictured everything in a serious note and had planned every single aspect of it. So much so that he had even made drawings about the protagonist and of the planets he talked about in the story.

 However, when time came to show his boss, he really hated it. He thought the story thought too much of itself, it aimed at being too serious and it really wasn’t that much of a deal. Of course, Jake was very upset by this and had a long period of time when he realized he wasn’t really a creative person but rather that guy that gets it right once and that’s it. He then decided not to try again and just deliver himself to everything in life that may help him be less sad.

 In other words, he started to drink more, to smoke and to have sec with almost complete strangers. It wasn’t like him to do that but, now that he lived by himself and was so depressed about his talent, it really felt like the moment to lose himself to all of that. So he attended a lot of parties, where he would always be smoking and he would disappear in weird moments at the same time that someone else.

 It was in such a state when he got a very awful virus that made him say in bed for two straight weeks. He had a sore throat, his eyes were always bloody and his whole body hurt. He never went to the doctor but this time he was scared the flu wouldn’t leave him. The doctor told him, very alarmingly, that he should get and HIV test, just in case.

 If he was pale already, Jake turned into a piece of paper when the doctor said those words. He drank the medication he gave him and he postponed several times going to get the test. But realizing his former crazy life could not go on just like that with that on his mind, he decided to go on a Saturday, as they had consultations every single day.

 In the small waiting room there were few people other than him: a young boy and girl couple, a pregnant woman and a guy about his age that couldn’t keep moving his leg. He seemed very agitated and looked at the ground as if he was attempting to make a whole in it with his sight. Jake tried to ignore the people around him to be lees worried but actually the opposite worked better: when the guy stood up, he stepped on himself and almost hit the counter where the nurse that called him waited.

 People got up, as to help him, but he stood up fast but instead of grabbing the counter to straighten himself up, he grabbed a big fish bowl full of condoms which made him fall into the ground, showered by a rainbow of colors corresponding to many small packages of condoms that had rained on his head.  The worst thing was there were also small packs of lube in the bowl, so when he tried to stand up fast, he just went back down as he had stepped on some of those and the jelly like substance had made him fall over again.

During all of this, Jake tried not to laugh but it had been impossible by the end. As everyone helped the guy, he just laughed. The nurse asked him to walk to his test and he was so relaxed he didn’t even think too much about it. Not until he met the guy again when coming out of his consultation. He was outside, on the phone and hung up at the same time Jake came outside. He seemed very bummed out, about to cry.

 Something on his face, his body language, attracted Jake to talk to him and ask what was wrong. The guy, instead of telling him, started crying. And as he cried, Jake could see the guy had a condom pack right on his shoe. He grabbed it, laughed again and that’s how they decided nothing was that bad. They went out for a coffee and got to know each other better.

 As Jake went back home after buying everything he had missed in the supermarket, he entered home and found Greg, the condom guy, with little Grace and Mark sleeping on his lap as they watched TV. He kissed him softly on the mouth and, out of nowhere, threw him a pack of condoms. Greg laughed so hard he woke up his son and daughter and the two of them had to carry the kids to bed, as they remembered that one time when a condom had made such a difference, again.

miércoles, 3 de agosto de 2016

La torre del señor Pump

   Cuando el polvo se asentó, el edificio que había estado allí por tanto tiempo, ya no existía. Los vecinos habían logrado su cometido de retirar semejante monstruosidad del barrio y lo habían hecho con protestas pacificas y tratando de hablar con el dueño de los apartamentos, un tal señor Pump. Era un hombre que nadie conocía personalmente pero lo que se sabía de él era que tenía mucho dinero y que invierta en proyectos como ese edificio, que tenían especificaciones muy particulares en su ubicación o construcción.

 La torre había tenido unos cuarenta pisos en un barrio en el que la casa más alta tenía cuatro pisos, si se incluía el ático. Con el tiempo se descubrió lo que todos sabían, que la torre nunca había tenido permisos reales de construcción y que existía por la única razón de que alguien había pagado a las personas correctas para que el edificio tuviese un permiso y  pudiese existir como tal. Ahora todo eso salía a la luz de nuevo pero no era que importar pues la torre estaba en el suelo.

 El día de la implosión, todos los vecinos del barrio tuvieron que salir de él y ser reubicados temporalmente en otra parte. Pero lo que más querían era subir a la colina más cercana y ver desde allí el espectáculo de su triunfo. Jamás se habían dado cuenta de lo horrible que era esa construcción, una clara cicatriz sobre la cara de la ciudad. Al fondo, estaba el mar azul y más cerca de ellos uno de los parques más grandes del país.

 Se decía que desde la torre del señor Pump se podían ver las islas de Fuego en un día claro. También que era el lugar ideal para construir un mapa de la ciudad y ver, en vivo, como funcionaban las carreteras y otras calles, como arterias y venas que hacen circular la sangre para que el cuerpo, en este caso la ciudad, sigan funcionando. Había mucho que decir de la torre y la verdad era que casi todo era inventado o al menos no había manera de probarlo a ciencia cierta.

 Aunque se suponía que era una torre de vivienda, los vecinos jamás vieron que nadie entrara o saliera a menudo de allí. Solo durante la construcción el sitio tuvo actividad. De resto, siempre había permanecido solo. Sin embargo, jamás estaba sucio ni nada por el estilo. Se le pagaba a un hombre para que fuera cada mes y limpiara los vidrios con otros dos compañeros. Terminaban en una semana y no hablaban con nadie de nada.

 Era un sitio extraño, como una casa embrujada pero de vidrio y varios pisos. Algunos aseguraban haber entrado de noche y decían que el único que vivía allí era el mismísimo señor Pump. Decían que así era porque buscaba estar cerca de sus proyectos y vivía en cada edificio que hacía por un tiempo para probar su estabilidad y buena calidad a los posible inversionistas.

 Si era verdad o no, era otra cosa más que nadie nunca supo. Jamás vieron una limosina estacionada frente al edificio y mucho menos vieron al señor Pump yendo a la tienda a comprar la leche y el jugo para el desayuno. Obviamente que un hombre tan rico no estaría a cargo de algo por el estilo pero el caso era que jamás había pisado el barrio. Eso ofendía más aún a los vecinos pues no entendían porqué entonces había decidido de construir precisamente allí y no en ningún otro lugar de la ciudad.

 Al parecer era esa imponente vista doble, al mar y al parque. A unas diez calles o menos estaba el acantilado que daba a la ciudad su personalidad. Había playas más al sur, siguiendo la carretera costera pero la ciudad había sido construida al lado de una serie de acantilados que daban a un mar agresivo y normalmente muy picado , que en invierno parecía una sopa en ebullición a punto de regarse por todas partes. Era hermoso pero daba miedo al mismo tiempo.

 En cuanto al parque, era una vista casi única pues ninguno de los barrios circundantes tenía tampoco estructuras tan altas. Los ambientalistas se quejaron cuando empezó la construcción pero como tenía todos los permisos en regla, incluso el ambiental, no hubo manera de detenerlos. Para los defensores de la naturaleza, era claro que el edificio cambiaría el comportamiento de las aves y afectaría a los animales pequeños y sus costumbres.

 La verdad es que, aparte de ellos, nadie se quejó hasta que fue muy tarde. A muchas personas, aunque más tarde lo negaron, les gustaba la idea de tener un rascacielos en la mitad del barrio y la razón era muy sencilla: pensaban que con un proyecto de esa magnitud, su propiedad aumentaría de precio astronómicamente y  podrían vender y luego comprar un apartamento en la misma torre y hacer un gran cambio en toda la ciudad.

 Pero el efecto del edificio fue exactamente lo contrario pues el ruido de la construcción afectó negativamente a todo el mundo. Quienes conducían por la zona para ir a los acantilados, un lugar popular en la ciudad, decidieron evitar el barrio por la cantidad de camiones que usaba la construcción. Esto quería decir que los negocios perdían dinero y la gente evitaba el barrio a propósito.

 Ya nadie quería vivir allí y la gente del resto de la ciudad sabían que no era un buen lugar para vivir. Cuando terminó la construcción, algunas personas tuvieron la esperanza de que todo mejorara pero como se convirtió en un edificio fantasma, no había manera de que el valor del terreno se moviera para ningún lado. El fracaso era evidente.

 Por eso fue increíble tener que luchar por la destrucción del edificio por más de cinco años. Cualquiera hubiese pensado que los problemas eran tan evidentes que los vecinos podrían ganar el caso con facilidad pero se dieron cuenta de todos los recursos del señor Pump y de cómo estaba dispuesto a gastar dinero, su reputación y miles de horas, en un edificio que estaba vacío y que no tenía de verdad a nadie que lo apoyase o que lo considerara, al menos, una joya arquitectónica.

 Era un edificio moderno pero simple, eso era todo. No había ninguna especificación especial, no tenía una piscina en el último piso, no había locales comerciales u oficinas o parte de hotel. Nada de eso. Solo apartamentos distribuidos casi todos de la misma manera. Se decía que sí habían tenido ventas pero que la demora en la construcción y la polémica con los acantilados había sacado corriendo a los compradores.

 El día del triunfo del barrio en la corte fue la única vez que pudieron ver al señor Pump. De verdad que no se le notaba que fuese tan rico como decían que era. No era muy alto y tenía la piel blanca como un papel. Permaneció casi estático durante todo el proceso y solo habló al final, antes de escuchar el veredicto del juez. No era una persona con encanto ni era atractivo. Era solo un hombre con mucho dinero y nada más. Muchos de los espectadores se sintieron decepcionados.

 El caso es que perdió y el edificio fue demolido. Se hizo de manera que colapsara sobre sí mismo pero era tan grande la edificación que debieron sacar a todo el mundo de sus casas para que no los afectara el polvo creado por la implosión. Las casas aledañas casi seguramente quedarían dañadas y el señor Pump fue obligado a pagar cualquier reparación que pudiesen necesitar las viviendas afectas.

 La vista desde la colina era increíble y, cuando la torre cayó, fue la primera vez que encontraron a la torre hermosa pero en un sentido trágico. La nube de polvo era increíble y tuvieron que esperar hasta el otro día para poder empezar a remover escombros y dejar ese terreno despejado en la mayor brevedad posible.

 Sin embargo, los curiosos fueron en mitad de la noche a tomar recuerdos de las ruinas del edificio y fue entonces cuando la noticia se volvió mundial. Entendieron ahora porque nadie vivía allí, porque era una edificio desierto. Resultaba que no eran viviendas, ni hotel, ni oficinas. Cuando el polvo se despejó, había restos de huesos, de objetos de valor y muchas otras cosas. Era como un museo pero daba miedo solo verlo. El señor Pump parecía ser, después de todo, alguien muy especial.

martes, 2 de agosto de 2016

Pet party

   As Mary got out of the bank, she realized there was only one more chance to get her dreams to come true. If she couldn’t work it out this time, she would be done for good, as she had nothing to fall back on. She had quite her job in a prestigious company and now she had withdrawed every single penny she had saved. Once she got him, she started making plans for every single cent, knowing how she would spend her money in order to make her dreams come true.

 Since she was a little girl, Mary had a tendency never to get what she wanted. It was always some other kid, more likely her sister, who got all the attention, all the love, all the gifts and presents and everything from everyone whereas she had to settle with whatever landed on her lap, basically. The times she complained, her parents argued that she was jealous of her sister and that she shouldn’t be such a nasty little girl. That kind of response was the main reason why she hadn’t spoken to any of them in such a long time.

 She wrote on a small yellow notebook every single plan she had in order to make it all a success: she had to invest some money buying stuff and then there would be a time of a few months in which she would have to reduce the amount of money she spent drastically in order to survive and have enough time to be successful. She had read several books and informed herself of what she had to do, so it wasn’t like she had rushed herself anywhere.

 As per usual, no one would help her achieve what she wanted. Mary had broken up with her boyfriend a few weeks ago and they didn’t spoke at all after that. It had been a very healthy break up, when she had accepted her mistakes and he had been very surprised she hadn’t attacked him or tried to make him stay. The truth was that Mary had changed quite a lot and simply had no time for such behavior now.

 After she quit her job and decided t be independent, she also realized there would be hours and hours of free time as her business began to from so she decided to exercise at home and also try some kind of diet. It would help a lot to spend less money and it would make her a little more agile and awake, what she needed urgently because of her new lease on life.

 Even if people hadn’t seen it, she had always been a very careful young woman, with her money and what she chose to say and not to say. Mary had never been distracted but rather very focused and driven. She knew most men didn’t like that and her family thought she was just jealous of everyone so her achievements had always been clouded by the shadow of someone she really wasn’t.

 The idea was pretty simple. Since she had been very young, her ambition had always been to have a pet. She had tried to make her parents buy her a dog but that didn’t happen until she was fifteen and her sister got one but she was twelve and wouldn’t really take care of the animal so Mary ended up having to feed him, and groom him and do everything for him in order to be healthy.

 She noticed back then that the food pets got could really use some work. They didn’t seem to be really delicious and she even tried one to check out the flavor. Her sister saw her doing that and immediately told her parents who told her she was disgusting and that they wouldn’t let the dog near her if she did it again. And yet, she kept looking at his toys, the ones that they sold at the stores and how the dogs interacted in the park and, even back then, she had the idea.

 Only now she was making it a reality. She had many designs and recipes kept on that yellow book, thousands of small idea she could bring to life if she only had the money and the energy to do it. She had not tried it before because she was certain the idea would fail but now it was different. Maybe it was that she had heard about her sister recently and was jealous of her, as they had always claimed. Or maybe it was because of that man that tried to have his way with her at work. Whatever reason it was, she was thankful for it.

 She bought ingredients, fabric, even clay to do small versions of the toys she would like to produce. She tried the food with the pets in her building or at the park wearing a vest and a hat she had sewed herself with the potential name of her company: Pet Party. Some people were interested and happily gave their dogs some of the treats and it was surprising to see how they all wanted more. Of course, there was no sugar or nothing like that in them, only vegetables and various proteins.

She submitted her toy ideas to several factories and many of them rejected her ideas because she thought she was joking or because they didn’t think her designs were good. But she finally found one specialized in pets and they were thrilled to work with her ideas.

 Everything was slowly falling in to place. She was making some dog’s clothes by herself, she had many ideas for smaller animals like rabbits and hedgehogs and also for larger ones like horses. She really had thought her idea through and was hoping to be able to achieve the dream of her life. She wanted to prove herself that what people had always told her was just a lie and that she was a good person and a smart one too.

 Right then though, her parents made an appearance. Of course, they criticized every single thing she was doing, they hated the fact that she was doing a diet and that she had gotten slimmer, saying she just wanted to be like her sister. They talked about her all the time, telling her how successful she was as an actress and the fact that she had paid for their trip, including the hotel and business class in flights and all those things they had never enjoyed because of having two kids.

 Mary did not say anything, trying not to let them get to her. However, her father found her yellow book and started reading it. He mocked her for her ideas and told her that she had to realize those perfect businesses where everything goes perfect doesn’t exist and that they are only achieved, if they exist, by people that have talent and that special thing that she clearly didn’t have.

 She didn’t love them but in that moment she understood how devastating it truly was to have always been a disappointment and a mistake for her parents. She let them know how much she had tried to be a good daughter and how awful and despicable they were. Mary told them about every single time in her life in which she only needed her parents to love her and she had to do everything by herself because no one got her back, no one was there to support her at all.

 They tried to argue but she just told them she was done with them for good and not to talk to her ever again. She pushed her out the door and asked her building’s security guy to come and fetch them and never let them in again. Same went to her sister, who she never heard about anyway, unless it was trough his parents. She just quit to having a family and it was surprisingly a very easy thing to do for her.

 Six months after quitting her job, her business had begun taking off. She received a lot of orders for her pet food and also for the dog clothes she had designed. The toys were a bit cheap in their build but people bough them anyway. She kept an online store for a while until she was able to pay the rent of a small store not far from her house. In a single year, she had won much more than in the rest of her life. She hired an assistant and Pet Party was an example of good planning and success.

 Mary loved the fact that she made people happy. She wanted to make everyone feel that their pets deserved better, as she had deserved better all her life and had needed a push to just do whatever it was that she needed to do. And she was grateful for it. She had never been happier, even if she had to give up her blood relatives in the process.

lunes, 1 de agosto de 2016

Fantasmas del presente

   Al parecer la gente se odia a si misma. Al parecer la gente no soporta mirarse en el espejo y darse cuenta de que todo lo que tiene en frente es propio y que nada de lo que digan los demás importa. Sin embargo, no logro entender porqué las cosas son así y no de otra manera. ¿Porqué son autodestructivos y porque tratan de destruir a los demás? ¿Que es lo busca la gente haciendo que los demás sean miserables? La lógica diría que son ellos mismo miserables y por eso lo hacen pero no creo que siempre sea el caso.

 La gente es miserable por cualquier cosa y la única condición para que lo sean es estar tristes por una razón o por otra. Pero la tristeza no es excusa, estar mal en un momento no garantiza que se esté mal toda la vida y los demás no tienen porqué pagar por ello. Si estás triste, analiza tus sentimientos y lo que tienes adentro pero no hagas que lo demás se sientan miserables solo porque tu no puedes soportar al mundo de la manera en la que está hecho.

 Yo lo entiendo. A veces hay momentos en que queremos echarlo todo por la borda y no queremos que nadie nos hable, que nos miren o que susurren cerca nuestro. No queremos que el viento sople ni que el agua moje, que la gente camine o que los animales hagan lo que hacen. No queremos nada y a la vez lo queremos todo porque creemos que tener todo es lo mismo que ser feliz, que estar completo de alguna extraña manera. Pero siempre sabemos, en el fondo, que eso no es así.

 Creo que mucho de eso odio, ese rencor contra todos, nace sin duda de alguna inseguridad profunda en cada ser humano. Creo que reside en lo más hondo de cada ser, algo que se lo come vivo desde adentro, algo tóxico y asqueroso que la gente muchas veces nunca ve ni siente pero que a veces se manifiesta de las maneras más horribles para que nadie olvide su existencia. Creo que todos tenemos ese ser, esa otra criatura adentro, nadie es una excepción.

 Todos nos odiamos, todos tenemos problemas con algo o con alguien. Todos podemos ser capaces de sentir rencor contra los demás, de sentir cualquier cosa de hecho. Y ese puede ser un problema: no sabemos manejar esos sentimientos porque no tenemos las herramientas para comprenderlos. Ya sea porque nos criaron mal, y eso sí existe, como porque no nos esforzamos nunca por saber más del mundo que lo que vemos, es un problema grave.

 Y ahí están esas personas, que solo viven para ver a los demás quemarse en un mismo lugar. Viven para disfrutar con el dolor ajeno porque es la única manera en que pueden sentir algo, lo que sea. Jamás lo dejan de lado y jamás paran o se detienen.

 Muchas veces, estoy seguro, debe ser algo relacionado con el físico. Si quisiera ofender y ser igual de superficial que esta miserable gente, diría que si son hombres debe ser que es porque tienen un pene pequeño. Por alguna razón ese detalle siempre detiene en seco a un hombre, como un encantamiento mágico. Si es una mujer, la cosa se pone más compleja y hay que saber más del individuo pero siempre hay algo sensible, siempre hay un punto de ataque estratégico.

 La gente se siente mal frente al espejo. Yo me siento mal frente al espejo seguido y lo he hecho durante una larga cantidad de años. Para mi no es algo nuevo y vivo con ello sin problemas porque ya me acostumbré. A veces me veo allí y siento que no soporto estar allí de pie por más de un segundo, me odio porque me juzgo a partir de lo que ven y dicen los demás y no de cómo me siento. Mala cosa. Otros días es diferente. Me gusto mucho sin esfuerzo.

 Pienso que la gente de la que hablamos debe odiarse a si misma cada vez que se mira al espejo. Debe haber algo que los pone nerviosos, algo que simplemente los hace cerrar los ojos siempre que ven un cuerpo distinto, como si fuese algo pecaminoso o prohibido. Todavía hay gente que cree en estupideces de esas pero incluso la gente religiosa se puede dar cuenta que el cuerpo es lo que hay y no tiene sentido odiarlo ni aborrecerlo. Y sin embargo, ellos existen.

 Puede que sí sean los órganos sexuales los que los molestan o tal vez sea ver solo piel y nada más. Incluso, y esto es más posible aún, creo que les molesta ver que alguien esté tan seguro con su cuerpo. Puede que tenga algo que ver con la envidia, con algo que ellos mismos quisieran tener. Tal vez tienen el sueño reprimido de poder caminar desnudos por ahí sin sentirse inferiores o algo por el estilo. Me doy cuenta que entre más lo pienso, menos me interesan las razones.

 Eso será porque, entre más excusas existan, más trata uno de justificar las acciones de los demás pero no todos estamos justificados. Hay gente a la que se le debe llamar la atención y hacerle darse cuenta de que lo que hace está mal. Nadie tiene derecho a hacer que los demás se sientan como basura y nadie debería odiarse tanto como para destruir a otros por algo que tiene en la cabeza o que le falta.

 Pierdo el interés en defenderlos, en creer que son buenas personas a pesar de hacer cosas que me sacan de quicio. Son unos idiotas, superficiales e ignorantes. Eso pienso en este momento y creo que lo más probable es que sea la mejor descripción que haya hecho nunca te estos personajes tan tristes y patéticos. Ahí van más adjetivos.

 Se podrán excusar también en eso que llaman la moral, un concepto arcaico e inútil en el que la gente se sigue escudando para rechazar, selectivamente, comportamiento o hechos de la vida que no les gustan para nada. Es algo completamente ridículo porque es como juzgar a todos desde una pequeña, ínfima porción de lo que el hombre como especie conoce. Es como si eligiéramos, de todo el conocimiento humano, sólo lo que la humanidad aprendió en veinte años y usar eso para juzgar a todos los demás. Sin sentido.

 Dirán que es para proteger a los niños, niños que bien protegido no tendrían porque acercarse a lo que no deben. Se les olvida, tal vez que todos, incluidos los infantes, tienen tanto deberes como derechos. Eso de sacudirle a uno los derechos en la cara pero olímpicamente olvidarse de los deberes es simplemente asqueroso. Y se dicen conocedores de la vida y adoradores de lo que hay en ella nada más porque saben de la ley y el orden y de todo lo aparenta crear justicia.

 Tanto les gusta ese concepto, que la imparten ellos mismos. Por eso son peligrosos y unos lunáticos que deben ser detenidos antes de que pase nada. Eso es lo que se debería hacer con toda persona que cree un sistema alterno de justicia, cuando hemos convenido como sociedad humana que solo podemos atenernos a un código de reglas especifico y no a varios al mismo tiempo. Existirán otros sistemas, pero debemos atenernos al nuestro o sino todo es caos.

 Eso sí, que la gente crea lo que crea, que se vuelvan locos odiando y creyendo que su Dios, que su persona, que su familia o que quien sea tiene la razón. Que usen a sus niños como escudos, a sus mujeres como armas y a sus hombres como jueces, si es que no hacen daño, si no afectan a nadie y son como una de esas imágenes de museo que es graciosa porque ya es obsoleta.

 Así como esas piezas de colección, esa gente empezará a ser más y más escasa hasta que sean vistos como una curiosidad y luego ya no sean vistos más nunca. Eso es lo que necesita pasar, que conscientemente los hagamos a un lado si no están dispuestos a compartir el camino con nosotros. No se trata de ser amigos y darnos la mano y vivir juntos para siempre. Se trata de concesiones, incluso de respeto, más de tolerancia.

 Pero el mundo es un lugar podrido. Es un sitio vil que ha tenido el infortunio de ser nuestro hogar por tanto tiempo y lo será por más aún. Soportarnos será difícil pero al menos sabemos ahora que hay cosas por las que vale la pena vivir en paz y en calma y creo que esas son razones más que suficientes para tomar la iniciativa e ir extinguiendo a los fantasmas.