My dear President,
has not yet realized that his time is up? From the roofs of factories, from the cranes, the roads that are increasingly filled with people, there comes a shout, a roar that will soon be rumbling. Do not you feel, Mr. President, do not feel them, the guys who are hungry for work, immigrants who claim the right to exist, to be citizens like any other, does not hear the grin from abroad, the chuckles of derision that follow it, around it, the false rumors of the servants who still flatter ... ? E 'deaf, President? E 'blind? The working around, and beyond, the story moves fast, where there is direct knowledge, but certainly in the future you will not see because it is old, it is unmade. 'S life, President, with its rules, and there is a credit card that could change.
Look in a mirror in the pale light, relentless, day and realize that is born to be a broken man. Take off the makeup, slip off those ridiculous high-heeled shoes - not a dancer, is a grandfather - to stop and smile (you) save those jokes becere, vulgar, those jokes that are no longer fun no. Take the door and opens them to the shoulders. We did not want to laugh, we turn the page ...
and start over.
disappear, President. Resign! That 's what awaits the country, is what the country requires.
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