I don’t want to walk the same streets or see the same worn out faces. I don’t want to know by heart the places I can go and the places I should avoid. I don’t want to live between uncertainty and chaos; nor between false hopes.
Still, I’m hoping tomorrow will be better. I’m hoping that it will be walked by the people who marched for freedom: without fear and smiles. I’m hoping for conciliation of love and hope between the Guaro and its city. I’m hoping the ones that went away can remember their hometown with joy.
I don’t want the solitary Barquisimeto. I don’t want people to remember it just for its twilights. If we indeed are “the noble people who know to be grand” then let’s be it. Let’s make a city we are proud of.
I believe in a Barquisimeto of opportunities. I hope we are the ones who paint it every day; not the colors in the sky. We want to know freedom, but we’re patient. We know we’re on our way.
Hope came back to us on the 23rd; we must cling to working for it. It’s not a one-day thing: it’s everyday work. It’s to create our city from its roots, to build it how we dream it. It’s to know how to recognize what is wrong and to change; it’s to understand how to take care of what is right and to protect it.
Barquisimeto and its everyday life got a stop from a moment to give space for a river of hopeful people. The smallest acts lead to enormous things; that’s why I’m here, writing.
I hope for the Guaro to believe once again in his culture and his home. I hope to see new people come and fall in love with our city. I hope to discover everything Barquisimeto can (and will) be.
And I’ll keep believing in the Barquisimeto of tomorrow in freedom; because we’re already on our way.
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