Our war…our war is not only made of blood and fire, our war is an endless battle against ourselves, is our apathy prevailing over our hardwork. Our war is the hard but easy way, the “think fast, shoot first”. Our war is a proof of our inability to have a dialogue while coexisting with our differences. Our pain…our pain is not only physical, something is hurting somewhere else. The bullet pierced the flesh and lodged in the collective soul and, entrenched as it is, is becoming impossible to remove it.

Our war should not have that WAR name. In our war there are no sides, there are no defined camps in confrontation against the enemy. This is an all against all fight. This is not an armed conflict even if here are millions of weapons ready to shoot. This is not a narco-war even if tons of drugs come in and out every year from our ports and our brains. Here we don’t have a coup d’etat but many people want to take down a government that tried, at its moment, to take down another government. We are not having a famine but people is not able to find basic food. Our war is criminal, is political, is economic, is moral, is spiritual…

Our pain has been highly selfish, while the carnage took place in the slums, with the poor ones, between “that” people from “there”, nobody raised the voice about it. Each pain was not sorry for other people’s pain. Maybe there was no such thing as OUR until the cycle of violence entrapped us all and made us at the same time victims and victimizers.