Existing out of time, a house isolated at the foot of Mount , watching the sun still knows that in the early morning heat.
study, with thousands of books , a fireplace, the sound of and brightly colored leaves of 'grass . Stacks of
wood to burn and the silence of Mother that, beating the rhythm of his age, he gives life to flowers. The
music of a piano that sounds high, it must include the expectation of 'Infinite . Far from
utilitarian dimension of power, from iniquities of political commodify herself, and it sells out, obedient and courteous to serious courtiers interests and gifts. Far from
bunch of evil demons without soul, deep thinking in gear calculation of and moral poverty, which deny the ideals sighs of politics, relegating it to instrument through which to exercise its glory.
Far from pages that subservient to the king welcomed his deeds, as beasts disciples, carrying out the orders with the blank stare of someone who, stripped of thought and substance, he can not understand.
creeping Vizi, dig the floors of the buildings and games enjoyed chasing each other between gasps prohibited without morals, or public decency.
Shadows of silent clown wig nor make-up without playing the game of politics debasing nature of the state and destroying the creed of our fathers and our grandfathers before them, who fought for freedom .
I would be in that isolated house
as far as possible the compromises and servitude,
to rest,
away in disgust, the delusion of power over .
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