Tell me who’s left

A few months ago I got a nice message from Dom. He wished me luck in my new book. It was a free message. There is no other intention than genuine generosity.

This week, when the news that he had been murdered along with native scientist Bruno Pereira was confirmed, I felt the salty taste of anger run down my face as if our dreams were also brutally shattered.

I was still trying to gather myself to write the first story about the international backlash when I received a video from a friend. A frail gentleman sitting in the middle of a theater could be seen from a defective mobile phone image. And the sound of farewell forever from the stage that only increased my despair.

It was Milton Nascimento in one of the closing shows of his career.

“Send the world’s news there,” she sang. “Tell me who’s left,” she added. “Hug me, come squeeze me. I’m coming.”

That melody, unintentionally, turned into a background music for the agony of seeing a country saying goodbye to its future.

What will be in its place? Tell me who’s staying.

How long does it take to rebuild a country? Or did you actually start building it?

But what if there is no vote, how will we respond to political crimes? They’ve already shown us that they have a plan, a goal, and even a Brazilian Viking. are we How will we resist when they try to close the curtain?

How many will we bury together with the dream of democracy in a country that is crying and bleeding?

Tell me who’s staying.