Merida, my city, is the new Ithaca and we the Venezuelans are the new Greeks trying to come back to the land of our beloveds. While we are in Chicago, New York, Medellin, Madrid, Paris, Brussels our country is being burned and deformed with Penelope, Argos, Telemachus inside.
There is no home to come back. Merida is burning. Only the ashes spread on the head of the now old kids will get to us once they meet us in Calypso’s Island if they don’t get lost in the hunger.