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President

During the night of July 30, 198, Vespasian spleen had a dream. In a solo spot I listened to the strange name of Zeno of Elea. Later, under the shadow of a tumult of clouds that passed, he felt the overwhelming desire to jump. It did so. He fell with breakneck speed. Nothing could perceive while it is immersed in this downturn. Suddenly, again reverbero the name with geologic slowness. Thus, the fall never came to an end and when he had already accustomed to the endless effect of the attraction of gravity, a ray of light, a heat wave and a dog’s bark, they brought him back to the vigil.

Sitting in bed revived the dream. He recalled some kind of physics. The sophistry of the pluraridad, the first and then of the impossibility of the motion proposed by the Greek suggested by their dream-like activities. He experienced the second while it fell in the darkness. He now imagined that this endless descent was not such but a perpetual immobility, an infinite inertia. However, any contribution to your existence did this reasoning. Fall without end, never find a Fund, you would find explanation in the psychological field, but not in the complex dialectic of philosophy.

The next day was July 31. Near the one that already vanished Saturday afternoon, I watched television with his usual indolence. A sports program highlighted recent results and exploits of brave competitors. Not long before, true documentary about ants in the Amazon had caused you a near lethargy heaviness. Suddenly, the programming was interrupted. Acute beats presaged an important notice. The announcer with the demudado face announced certain difficulties that the President had died in a plane crash. Few were the details. The information was diffuse, non-precision. Some Hill in the central provinces covered in mist, the torrential rain, the inaccessibility of the terrain, an error of the pilot of the plane where he traveled the mandatary and the miscalculations complemented the note.