No matter what happened, when I have observed Venezuela, my first thought has never been its tragedy,
much less the monster within his own bowels.
All this time I have only been able to see her. To all of her. Everything about her has always been good.
Not to a minority that has relegated all that she is, behind a mirror clouded by pain.
Behind the mist of an ordeal.
I have always seen Venezuela with the eyes of someone who knows it well, beyond this now that has seemed endless to us.
They have tried to overshadow her for so many years.
But now, as in every adversity, it always exhibits the virtue of its Light.
That same one that I have always found in her, even in her victims, in her survivors and in those who
They stay in dungeons for no reason.
Today I am not speaking to Venezuela because it has all the answers.
Who could explain all the martyrdom he has suffered? Perhaps it is as difficult as trying to explain all the Faith that
springs from her today. We have tried so many keys, on countless doors.
We felt that it would not be possible to open any more, Until we found the real key.
That key that is ourselves.
Before, during and after July 28, we need
remain ONE KEY.
Make key with me.
Your vote is the key.
You will be my key to be able to return.
Or So I don't EVER have to leave.
I want to stay.
I didn't want to leave.
I never left.
I have the key to return to what I always have
belonged.
It is to me that the key to my own home belongs.
I have the key to our reunion.
To cross this and all the countries that have separated me
of you
Open the door of my house for me.
Vote for me if I couldn't, or if I was absent.
Vote for so many of those we are missing.
Let's leave the regime without any key.
And so open all the dungeons,
And so open all the means,
To broadcast again from there live
To feel alive again, as we felt there.
I have always been the key.
The key has always been you.
-Author: Carla Angola ---------------‐-------------------------------------‐------------------------- Spanish version (original):
Sin importar lo que pasara, cuando he observado Venezuela, mi primer pensamiento nunca ha sido su tragedia,
mucho menos el monstruo dentro de sus propias entrañas.
Todo este tiempo solo he podido verla a ella. A toda ella. Todo lo que de ella siempre ha estado bien.
No a una minoría que ha relegado todo eso que es ella, detrás de un espejo empañado por el dolor.
Detrás de la bruma de un calvario.
Siempre he visto a Venezuela con la mirada de quien la_ conoce bien, más allá de este ahora que se nos ha hecho interminable.
Han intentado opacarla por tantos años.
Pero ahora, como en cada adversidad, siempre exhibe la virtud de su Luz.
Esa misma que siempre he encontrado en ella, incluso en sus víctimas, en sus sobrevivientes y en quienes
permanencen en calabozos sin ninguna razón.
Hoy no le hablo a Venezuela porque tenga todas las respuestas.
¿Quién podría explicar todo el martirio que ha padecido? Quizás es tan difícil como intentar explicar toda la Fe que
brota de ella hoy. Hemos probado tantas llaves, en infinitas puertas.
Sentíamos que ya no sería posible abrir ninguna más, Hasta que dimos con la verdadera llave.
Esa llave que somos nosotros mismos.
Antes, durante y después del 28 de julio, necesitamos
seguir siendo UNA SOLA LLAVE.
Haz llave conmigo.
Tú voto es la llave.
Tú serás mi llave para poder Volver.
O Para no tener que irme JAMÁS.
Yo me quiero quedar.
Yo no quería irme.
Yo nunca me fui.
Yo tengo la llave para volver a lo que siempre he
pertenecido.
Es a mi a quien pertenece la llave de mi propio hogar.
Yo tengo la llave para nuestro reencuentro.
Para cruzar este y todos los países que me han separado
de ti
Ábreme la Puerta de mi casa.
Vota por mi si yo no pudiera, o si yo faltara.
Vota por tantos quienes nos faltan ya.
Dejemos al régimen sin ninguna llave.
Y asi abrir todas las mazmorras,
Y asi abrir todos los medios,
Para Volver a transmitir desde allí en vivo
Para volver a sentirnos vivos, como nos sentíamos allí.
Yo siempre he sido la llave.
La llave siempre has sido tú.
-Autora: Carla Angola
Personally, the phrase that broke me the most emotionally was: "to cross this and all the countries that have separated me from you." I couldn't help but think about my family and my longing for our reunion.
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