I probably had like ten talks like those in the past few days, with tears or almost tears included; with broken voices. Here we are: we once were the most bright students, the political thinkers; and even when things got rough, we were always planning a demonstration, a speech, we could always found a hope, a way to get out.
And now, each and everyone of them are looking at the world map to see where they can go. In the mean time, our parents are pressuring us like hell to graduate fast and like that friend, you end up making the first chapter of your thesis of eight pages only. At the same time, our professors are making a silent request for us not to leave: "There is still something left to do here".
And you end up sitting at some computer again, with a document opened that should turn into that paper you must finish for class; but stays empty for a while because you got distracted thinking about how your life is going to be next year or even next month; if you are actually able to leave your salsa dance steps and that delightful arepa (is like a corn bread filled with everything) at 5 am after a night partying.
You wonder If you are able to leave this bless weather always between spring and summer and only thing you regret is that you haven’t got the chance to meet the snow. And then you turn your head, and see the newest propaganda of the regime on the streets: a black figure of the president with a high red background and then you realize that at least for a while you are looking forward to take that plane.