Blast of fresh air

Maybe somewhere in a humble abode, a frail Conrado de Quiros sits by his lonesome, reading today’s paper with the same sharp mind and the same passion for the nation he loves. Maybe during one of his habitual musings, despite his body’s lack of commitment, his mind wanders and sprawls letters in the air, slowly being turned into words and then sentences and then into an astonishing piece of commentary. Maybe the tradition of opinion writing was never lost to him, and being the son of a bitch that he is, only refuses to write so people will know that even the absence of words can cause frustration, regret, and interminable loss.

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