To Francisco Goya

By Milton Lima 03-09-2020

“But it would show your character in a more attractive light” Franz Kafka

For a fool aware that having to write is needed!

Looking at my country today, I see that beyond somebody, political, human, animal, or that has been buried. I believe that before being human as tall as go on the cross and being denied death, doing high frame gets this cry about eyes which all dies as well. 

Behind the wake is phenomenal to say the truth. It is human and I wanted to miss this fear of words that do body. Maybe our history still has hope in a world more human less out. We in some moment can understand why we did it with our death too. This must be a matter which in Brazil some may want to forget, but this burial will not be forgotten in the end with the pandemic COVID-19. It's begun as work to who back in this wake. I spoke and I liked to stop and told them also that is what I see as the essence to discover in this war why whether denied the symbolism of the death. The war that cries from freedom, the same that smiles for dictatorship, that views the figure of the death become past in glorious revolution the same who cry to out of tyranny and now cry to seem in democracy.  

How did they die? Access the technology.

Los caprichos; Francisco Goya.

  

Well, I have overdue so “I can not breath”, but what did we do with the death indigenous?  And the death of the Armenians? Jews and much else than we did question forgetting while humans are not viewed as such yet. The word death is now just a word without anything.

Since that truth has not begun overall hegemonic, so we can go back to history that has taught us to teach to well or to bad indeed that really have power to know what can or not be said. And about the word death, such censorship chooses the soul human beyond these word and body concepts of history buried without this awareness historic in which are poetry as the poets Baudelaire and Fernando Pessoa.

Thus, will not be Eliot with his poetry also that would help to go to see his death behind the body than that word and intellect became anything to picture in a world which we forget death. Eliot was reading the Baudelaire that was translated by Walter Benjamin; they already were worried with what they could tell them about technology as those forgetting history in poetry. Thus between crying and coming to the world the son avoided me to arrive and let the whims of Goya I will not let us dry.