
Esta noite explodiu uma bombadentro do meu quarto, partiu tudo e encheu-mede medo. Tive tanto medo que chorei. Anoite éo nosso dia, fazemos fogueiras gigantescas comos destroços da cidade. Quem somos nós? Somos todos terroristas?
First we give space into a felling, that immediately transformed itself into determination and after that in the manifestation of a desire. We are men and women that vibrate. We are always at war, fighting, with ourselves and with each other. We laugh , we cry, take care of the garden and the house. Invent work, but there is nothing to be done... We need to fool this death and war that inhabits and surrounds us. The horror of a man dragging his wife, or what was left of her, trough the street. The music on the walls of the white square. The stories that come from underneath the punched words. What is going to happen to us, locked? Without course, without strength. Sleepwalkers. Heavy, full of nightmares, walking. Tonight a bomb exploded in my room and destroyed everything and filled me with fear. I was so frightened that i cried. The night is our day, we make huge fires with the city's wrecks. Who are we? Are we all terrorists?