Names Of The Inside Of A Car

Paco Urondo.

When Argentina was darkened by repression, books, among other things, were a danger. Entire libraries were aware or burned, looking to the hounds do not find genocide.

A fitting tribute the great warrior of life was Urondo Paco. A poem, written in the Devoto prison, we might find on a sheet either.

The truth is the only reality

the other side of the fence is the reality,

this side of the fence is also

the Actually, the only unreal

is the gate, the freedom is real, though it is unclear whether

belongs to the world of the living, the

world of the dead, the world of fantasies or

world vigil at the farm or production

.

Dreams are dreams, memories,

that body, that glass of wine, love and

the weakness of love, of course, form part of the

reality

shot in the night in the forefront of these brothers of these children, those cries

unreal real pain of the tortured in

the angelus eternal and left in a police brigade

any

are part of the memory, do not necessarily

this, but they belong to reality. The only apparent

is crisscrossing the gate sky, singing

lost a prisoner, a thief or fighter, the voice

shot, resurrected on the third day in a huge flight covering the Patagonia

because massacres, redemptions, belong to reality, as

rescued hope of gunpowder, of innocence

summer, are the reality, as the anger and fear

convalescence, that air that refuses to return after danger

as the designs of an entire people

march to victory

or to death, stumbling, learning to defend themselves,

to rescue his own, his

reality.

sometimes it may seem a lie, the only

lie is not even treason, is

just a fence that does not belong to reality.

Villa Devoto Jail, April 1973