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Street Fighter

I was eight years old the first time somebody tried to kill me.

When you are that age and try to plan your summer ahead, being murdered it’s the least thing you imagine could happen to you. Yet for me, it was a possibility lurking at my horizon.

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The tenth life of a Cat

“Get out! You lazy bitch!” The man yelled and the cat shot out dodging a whisky bottle that smashed at the doorway.

The old dun-colored cat refuged behind the dustbins across the street, watchful of her master reeling through the hallway until he slammed the door. Her deep scars whispered to her that this was the last time and the door will remain shut forever. The mulish cat refused to accept it and lingered for weeks in the outskirts of the property, hoping that her meows could soften the heart of her master and grant her a loaf of breath or a place next to the heater.

Her scars were right.

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Hero or Tyrant?

Hero or Tyrant? A very thin line divides the two, one next to the other sometimes can be the same.

The only registries of our existence in this world are the archives of history, but even history it’s written by men, and mankind is subjective and capricious. Many of the greatest artists the world has known, lived an infamous life misunderstood by the society of their time and died in the anonymity, just for some centuries later the people could say “We were wrong.” Continue reading “Hero or Tyrant?”

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