We Must Strive Every Day So That

Once Again I Feel Beneath My Heels The Ribs Of Rocinante. Once More, I'm On The Road With My Shield On My Arm.

It's Not My Fault If Reality Is Marxist

The Word That Most Perfectly Describes The City Of Cuzco Is Evocative. Intangible Dust Of Another Era Settles On Its Streets, Rising Like The Disturbed Sediment Of A Muddy Lake When You Touch Its Bottom.

We Do Not Have Elections. But The Great Majority Of The Cuban People Supports Its Government.

We Are Overcome By Anguish At This Illogical Moment Of Humanity.