Dear Diary, Freedom in Venezuela... that which we Venezuelans so deeply desire. We cannot expect others to come and accomplish this task, nor can we behave like beggars imploring other nations to do the work that is our responsibility. We have the blood of liberators, of those great warriors who gave their fortunes and their lives for their dreams of freedom. Today we can make it a reality. We have a new government, backed by more than eighty percent of our votes, and we have a people determined to fight for the significant changes that the nation so desperately needs. The new government must organize itself, form its own armed forces composed of honest men and women, to displace these corrupt and flawed institutions that currently dominate Venezuela. All these people who govern our country by force—from the dictator to the last soldier or the last CLAP coordinator—are aware that what they are doing is wrong. Therefore, they know that if they lose power, they will have to pay for all the crimes and damage they have caused the country over the years. This awareness motivates them to cling to power even more tightly, because they know that, as long as they hold it, the long arm of justice will never touch their doors. For a free Venezuela. Argenis Tavacare

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¡¡¡Se dijo "Hasta el Final" y es Hasta el Final nojoda...!!!

Querido diario, La vida nos pone constantemente a prueba para revelar el verdadero material del que estamos hechos. Cada triunfo y cada derrota constituye una lección invaluable que moldea nuestro ser y nos enseña a crecer. Nosotros, los venezolanos, estamos forjados con un material único que nos distingue del resto de la humanidad. Poseemos esa extraordinaria capacidad de encontrar luz en la oscuridad, de esbozar una sonrisa incluso frente a la adversidad más severa. Nos reímos de nuestros éxitos y también de nuestros fracasos, porque hemos aprendido que la risa puede ser nuestro mayor refugio. Sacamos humor de los problemas más complicados, y aunque a veces el agua nos llegue al cuello, siempre existirá algo, por mínimo que sea, que nos invite a la sonrisa. Para lo que otras culturas consideran motivos de frustración o desengaño, nosotros vemos como simplemente "otro día más sobre la tierra". Y si algo hoy nos hace llorar, mañana, entre risas compartidas y cuentos entre amigos, transformaremos esa experiencia en motivo de alegría. Por esta razón, a menudo encontramos fricciones cuando, al vivir en otros países, intentamos aplicar nuestra idiosincrasia con los locales, quienes, siendo de una cultura diferente, jamás podrán comprender completamente nuestra forma única de ver y enfrentar la vida. Por eso amo profundamente mi país, mi cultura y nuestra razón de existir. Y como buen venezolano, siempre recuerdo: "Al mal tiempo, buena cara". Con todo mi corazón venezolano, Argenis Tavacare

Dear Diary, Life constantly tests us to reveal the true mettle we are made of. Every triumph and every defeat is an invaluable lesson that shapes us and teaches us to grow. We Venezuelans are forged from a unique material that distinguishes us from the rest of humanity. We possess that extraordinary ability to find light in the darkness, to manage a smile even in the face of the most severe adversity. We laugh at our successes and also at our failures, because we have learned that laughter can be our greatest refuge. We find humor in the most complicated problems, and even when we are in dire straits, there will always be something, however small, that makes us smile. What other cultures consider reasons for frustration or disappointment, we see as simply "another day on earth." And if something makes us cry today, tomorrow, amidst shared laughter and stories among friends, we will transform that experience into a cause for joy. For this reason, we often encounter friction when, living in other countries, we try to apply our idiosyncrasies to the locals, who, being from a different culture, will never be able to fully understand our unique way of seeing and facing life. That's why I deeply love my country, my culture, and our reason for being. And like any good Venezuelan, I always remember: "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade." With all my Venezuelan heart, Argenis Tavacare

Exacto...

Por eso, hoy más que nunca debemos luchar por Liberar a Venezuela de este régimen criminal, violador de los DDHH.

🤔

El Canto Maldito de la Guacaba Desde las sombras de su modesta choza, Don Perucho percibió el lúgubre canto que cortaba la noche como un cuchillo en carne viva. La guacaba. Esa ave sombría que, según susurros ancestrales, no anunciaba simplemente la muerte... la invocaba con su voz maldita. Se decía que la parca misma se materializaba cuando el ave entonaba su macabro réquiem, o que las almas errantes regresaban del más allá para deambular entre los vivos, guiadas por aquel canto que helaba la sangre. Desde los albores de su juventud, Don Perucho había sido testigo de la terrible profecía. Cada vez que la guacaba alzaba su voz fantasmagórica, algún ser querido desaparecía para siempre de este mundo, llevándose consigo sus secretos y sus promesas. En esa tarde maldita, cuando el cielo se teñía de colores rojizos que anunciaban desgracia, el canto surgió nuevamente. Aterrorizado, Don Perucho se incorporó de su asiento y corrió hacia el exterior, mientras sus manos temblorosas lanzaban piedras y maldiciones. —¡Aparta de aquí, criatura del averno! ¡Ave de maleficio! —gritó con voz quebrada por el temor. Pero la guacaba, con una malicia que trascendía lo natural, saltaba impasible de rama en rama, afinando aún más su canto sepulcral que reverberaba entre los árboles como el eco de las campanas del juicio final: —Gua-caba... gua-caba... gua-caba... En su soledad absoluta, donde ni siquiera la señal de los teléfonos lograba penetrar aquel paraje olvidado por Dios, Don Perucho comprendió que el destino ya había sido escrito. Se resignó a escuchar el lamento del ave, sabiendo que cada nota lo acercaba inexorablemente a la tragedia. Cuando el sol comenzó a ocultarse tras las montañas, un vecino motorizado apareció en la distancia, como un mensajero de los dioses crueles. Su rostro, pálido como la cera, traía consigo las palabras que Don Perucho ya conocía: —Don Perucho, le traigo noticias que parten el alma... su patrón ha fallecido... La profecía se había cumplido una vez más. El canto de la guacaba nunca miente.

The Cursed Song of the Guacaba From the shadows of his humble hut, Don Perucho heard the mournful song that cut through the night like a knife through raw flesh. The guacaba. That somber bird that, according to ancient whispers, didn't simply announce death... it summoned it with its cursed voice. It was said that Death herself materialized when the bird intoned its macabre requiem, or that wandering souls returned from beyond to roam among the living, guided by that blood-curdling song. Since the dawn of his youth, Don Perucho had witnessed the terrible prophecy. Every time the guacaba raised its ghostly voice, a loved one disappeared forever from this world, taking their secrets and promises with them. On that cursed afternoon, when the sky turned reddish hues that foretold misfortune, the song arose once more. Terrified, Don Perucho jumped up from his seat and ran outside, his trembling hands hurling stones and curses. "Get away from here, you creature of hell! You malevolent bird!" he shouted, his voice breaking with fear But the guacaba, with a malice that transcended the natural, leaped impassively from branch to branch, further sharpening its sepulchral song that reverberated among the trees like the echo of the bells of Judgment Day: "Gua-caba... gua-caba... gua-caba..." In his absolute solitude, where not even the telephone signal could penetrate that place forgotten by God, Don Perucho understood that his fate had already been sealed. He resigned himself to listening to the bird's lament, knowing that each note brought him inexorably closer to tragedy. As the sun began to set behind the mountains, a neighbor on a motorcycle appeared in the distance, like a messenger from the cruel gods. His face, pale as wax, carried with it the words Don Perucho already knew: "Don Perucho, I bring you heartbreaking news... your boss has passed away..." The prophecy had been fulfilled once again. The guacaba's song never lies