"but in my dni see this address ...
but here I get the letter from the bank ...
even able to walk without tripping,
for each room, with the lights off ...
This is not my home ... "
When I was three years after he left Venezuela wrote those lines that head bleeding this post ...
Today marks 8 years of my arrival in Spain and would be unfair if we now repeat the same thing. There are people judging, criticizing, you do not understand, but is equal, and have stopped hurting words that ooze jealousy, patriotism (not patriotic).
I learned that those who judge without walking at least a mile in another's shoes, has no authority or power over my life ...
Who knows what tomorrow will himself cast the first stone ...
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miss my country, my Caracas, its unique Ávila, my father, my friends, the sweetness of the people, food, schedules and even how to talk, but my home now, at this moment is here ...
Who knows what tomorrow will himself cast the first stone ...
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