THE MILLENNIUM, PROSTITUTES, MARIGUANA AND FATUOS FUEGOS.
THE MILLENNIUM, PROSTITUTES, MARIGUANA AND FATUOS FUEGOS.
When the twenty-first century was born, on the first of the year 2000, four friends left at midnight to sit on the wall in front of the Legislative Palace, to watch the fireworks.
People passed in groups, many with bottles of alcohol and singing and we greeted each other with wishes of happiness.
There was mixed music from the apartments of the buildings decorated with lights.
Two prostitutes arrived, they drank our cider or beer and we chatted.
One of them smoking tells me:
-You want marijuana?
-No, thanks, I don't smoke.
“You're going to smoke.” And I blow a huge puff of smoke in my nostrils.
There a prostitute fell in love with Orlando Vicente and a long and intricate life story began.
Leon Legazcue.
IMMORTALITY DOES NOT FIT ME WELL.
LEON LEGAZCUE. IMMORTALITY DOES NOT FIT ME WELL.
With the current state of existence, being immortal would be terrible.
Old age, disease, deterioration, poverty, madness, insecurity.
Why perpetuate it.
Bring a child into the world, now, it is very risky.
An enormous uncertainty that is not erased by a beautiful day of sun, waves and moving sands.
We are lost.
Yes, it is existential pessimism.
Legazcue
LEON LEGAZCUE,
WHERE IS THE EXIT ?
The world is not the same without you.
He's devastated.
The streets are dead.
It is all darkness.
And it's not just because of the pandemic.
It is because of the uncertainty.
It is not in case there is a horizon or there is not.
I have no horizon, no time.
I must distract myself.
Exit to not think about me.
Set fire to the thoughts of others and many of my own.
Distract me, even if it is.
leon legazcue.
THE MILLENNIUM, PROSTITUTES, MARIGUANA AND FATUOS FUEGOS.
When the twenty-first century was born, on the first of the year 2000, four friends left at midnight to sit on the wall in front of the Legislative Palace, to watch the fireworks.
People passed in groups, many with bottles of alcohol and singing and we greeted each other with wishes of happiness.
There was mixed music from the apartments of the buildings decorated with lights.
Two prostitutes arrived, they drank our cider or beer and we chatted.
One of them smoking tells me:
-You want marijuana?
-No, thanks, I don't smoke.
“You're going to smoke.” And I blow a huge puff of smoke in my nostrils.
There a prostitute fell in love with Orlando Vicente and a long and intricate life story began.
Leon Legazcue.
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