![]() Already sick of everything, we chose to elect, with 74% of the vote, an author who earned his living as an editor and creative writer but who also was, indeed, a candidate with plenty of charisma. Up until a couple decades ago, we thought a strong military man would solve all our problems, erase from our behaviour any trace of idleness, indiscipline, impunctuality. Others, more daring and brazen, have chosen to designate us as a nation marred in childlike innocence, cauterized by rumours, myths and legends we drag along in our genes. Of course, I also belong to this collective naiveté, this ill-intent that we play down under this cynical moniker of “Latino smarts”. We have been coherent with one single mistake. During the transition, we were stupid enough to give a writer a chance. The times of military frenzy in Latin America ended as they usually did. Or find me, bloated with confusion, bloated with fear, and with hundreds of thesis and books that I open like tiny doors that hold thousands of plagiarized phrases. He reiterates the point every time we meet for coffee, with the wisdom of he who knows is lost, and knows that no matter how hard he tries for an exit, he’ll only find doors filled with confusion and dread. Now I’m a slave for the worst government ever, this according to the man who was once my thesis advisor, a history expert. And that is how I came up with the subject for my thesis. Or almost: “This was written by that dude who says Cadenas is a huge plagiarist lol”. Such an absurd idea! The reader of these pages will already have noticed the clumsiness in my style. ![]() I took that as a praise, as I was only known as an anti-plagiarism censor and as someone who once entertained the brief thought of writing novels that reflected Venezuelan reality. That it was just a test meant to gauge the audience’s reaction. A few dared insinuate that the poem was mine. ![]() That was the exercise: guessing who the author was. The coherence of the poem would demand a history, sparing us all from the gunshot.” The coherence of the poet would demand a gunshot, sparing us all from the poem. “The coherence of history would demand a gunshot, sparing us all from the poet. A few years ago, I posted this poem by Julio Miranda on Facebook: ![]()
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