Todas las imágenes son de mi galería personal, tomadas con la cámara de mi celular Tecno Spark Go2022 y el texto fue traducido en Deepl.

HASTA UNA PRÓXIMA OPORTUNIDAD, AMIGOS

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I am very scared ...
Although I don't want to and it is hard for me to admit it, at this moment of crisis in my country, Venezuela, I am very afraid. I am afraid of leaving my house and that the police will stop me, ask for my ID card and kidnap me. I am afraid that in an arbitrary way, the national guard will ask me for my cell phone and "sow" reasons to arrest me. I am afraid of the whatsaap group of the neighborhood and my neighbors, because I do not know who is "the toad", the "bringer", the one who will sell me, as Judas Iscariot did with Jesus, not for 30 silver coins, but for a voucher or a bag of food.
I am afraid that we will be cut off: that one day I will wake up and the networks will have disappeared, just as the private television channels, newspapers and radio stations have disappeared. I am afraid that we will censor ourselves so as not to be harmed: "Don't say that because they will take you to jail", "Don't think like that because the government will bring you down". I am afraid that we have been injected with fear and we have not realized it.
I am afraid that just as they annulled the passports of some Venezuelans and have forbidden them to leave, Venezuela will become a country where no one can leave. A prison country, a country without doors or windows, a cage country. May we have to create rafts of cardboard and brass to flee across the Caribbean Sea or swim the cold waters that separate us from Curacao and Trinidad and Tobago. I am afraid that I have not learned to swim and that I will be the one stranded on the shore.
I am afraid that I will never see my brother again, nor my nephews and nieces, nor my friends who are outside. That the way back will be erased and they will no longer want to or be able to return home. I am afraid that the country will be more alone than a broken Russian roulette wheel and that even hope will give us farewell.
I am afraid that we will settle for three days a week without electricity and two days without water. That they will take away our internet and dose us with food. I am afraid that we will be happy with bonuses and not fight for a raise. That we believe that being rich is bad and not working is good.
I am afraid that the battle we are fighting right now will end up like the other battles: in repression, death and exhaustion. I am afraid that they will steal my hope, my faith to see again the Venezuela that I had and that I lost, like a child loses her mother: without realizing it.
It is valid to be afraid, I think, and I believe that writing about my fear is less torturous than feeling it. That is why I give myself the freedom to write it here, no longer afraid of being silenced and not being heard, no longer afraid of being imprisoned by what I feel and say. My only desire is to unburden myself so that this fear does not nest in me, to transmute it, to accept the uncertainty and especially to accept the times of God and understand that each process takes time: you have to be patient, to breathe. Venezuela will soon be free. Amen, amen and amen.