63
" Fleas dream of buying themselves a dog,
and nobodies dream of escaping poverty:
that one magical day good luck will
suddenly rain on them-will rain
down in buckets. But good luck doesn’t
rain down yesterday, today, tomorrow,
or ever. Good luck doesn’t even fall in a
fine drizzle, no matter how hard the
nobodies summon it, even if their left
hand is tickling, or if they begin the new
day with their right foot, or start the
new year with a change of brooms.
The nobodies: nobody’s children,
owners of nothing. The nobodies: the no
ones, the nobodied, running like rabbits,
dying trough life, screwed every which
way.
Who are not, but could be. Who don’t
speak languages, but dialects. Who don’t
have religions, but superstitions. Who
don’t create art, but handicrafts. Who
don’t have culture, but folklore. Who are
not human beings, but human resources.
Who do not have faces, but arms. Who
do not have names, but numbers. Who
do not appear in the history of the
world, but in the police blotter of the
local paper. The nobodies, who are not
worth the bullet that kills them. "
― Eduardo Galeano , The Book of Embraces
78
" Cada promessa é uma ameaça; cada perda um encontro. Dos medos nascem as coragens; e das dúvidas, as certezas. Os sonhos anunciam outra realidade possível e os delírios, outra razão.
Somos, enfim, o que fazemos para transformar o que somos. A identidade não é uma peça de museu, quietinha na vitrine, mas a sempre assombrosa síntese das contradições nossas de cada dia.
Nessa fé, fugitiva, ou creio. Para mim, é a única fé digna de confiança, porque é parecida com o bicho humano, fodido mas sagrado, e à louca aventura de viver no mundo. "
― Eduardo Galeano , The Book of Embraces