# Escrita difícil...

Para qualquer escritor, a escrita, sobre que tema for, à velocidade com que ocorrem os acontecimentos globais, pode tornar-se cada vez mais obsoleta ou dar a sensação de se tratar de um plágio da vida real.

# Reborn (2)

(continuation)

- First Sergeant, evacuate your team! -... rrr ... rrr ... rrr ... - Mr. First Sergeant, are you listening? ..rrr...rrr...rrr... - on the radio you could only hear the static of the transmission - Mr. First Sergeant Blake, leave the operations center with your team and report immediately to the Operational Command. - rrr...rrr...rrr...

In the field, First Sergeant Tomas Blake, abandoned the radio transmission that developed with the Operational Commander. He looked at the four remaining elements that made up his team and told them;

# A matter of luck (2)

(continuation)

What I saw, again, was a Dantesque picture. I do not know why but, reactively, I kept the sweater wet on my face, using it as a mask. Yes, I do not know why I did it, but I'm glad I did it.

When I left the fountain, I began to walk through the middle of a war scene, the ones we saw in the movies or in the news, but, in fact, we had no idea of the horror; I saw many dead people, mutilated bodies, a lot of blood, a lot of suffering.

# A matter of luck (1)

There were more than five thousand people, those in Trafalgar Square. The call was made through social networks. The movement had an exponential turnout and, on the second day after the bombings of St. Pancras Station, against all the recommendations of the authorities, they met in protest against terrorism and DAESCH. It was a peaceful demonstration, but even so, with the risk of another attempt at the imminence of the authorities - even if no one who was there believed it could happen - there was that possibility. These were at least the MI6 information. We were all so focused on demonstrating our revolt that, blind, we did not listen to the appeals of the authorities who, even on the spot, asked us to demobilize the demonstration and return to our homes. There were many soldiers scattered all over the Square. I do not know how many, but there were dozens of them, heavily armed. They tried to persuade us to leave the place ... as they struggled.

# The train driver (3)

(continuation)

A faint beep reported that the composition was within fifty meters of a reduced speed zone. Peter resumed his post and began slowing down from 19 miles to 8 miles. And then another station. The immobilization was gradual and at that moment the young reviewer was already walking along the aisle to the first door he had found.

He put the key in the slot, let in three passengers, and, stretching himself a little, looked the outside toward the back of the composition. He waited for a moment, then took the key out and handed it to the cabin, which he could follow.

# Elizabeth (4)

(continuation)

A huge blow came at the southern exit of the Saint-Pancras train station. Was such a violent explosion that it made the whole building of the railway terminal shake in such a way that it caused the collapse of part of the structure of this south. The people who were there at the moment, those who had not been the victims of the explosion, rushed to the north, looking for the exit through the door that served her. The chaos settled down with hundreds of people in a panic, screaming, trying to escape from that place. Some fell into confusion, having been trampled underfoot by those who did not walk where they were, in their eagerness to flee.

# I love you, Paris! (3)

(continuation)

But when I had to leave, I left my heart in Paris. Belle accompanied me to the airport, and in a whisper we swore in love. I must confess that I cried when I left. I felt that he had left behind me.

The following times were passed in longing. We were exchanging correspondence, phoning, and at least every two months I went to Paris to be with her. I spent the weekend there. She was an extraordinary woman. He loved me as I never allowed anyone to love me again.

# I love you, Paris! (2)

(continuation)

- Excusez-moi, monsieur! - she said.
- There is! I was pissed off to look at that muse that was there in front of me with that fiery hair, rebellious in the origin that was made to run, two turquoise, the most beautiful that I had ever sighted, to look in my direction, Soft, pure, immaculate, candid and with a clear voice, full of candor and honey. - Sorry, did you say something? I asked him; He replied, - I apologize for the trouble I gave

# I love you, Paris! (1)

- Good afternoon sir!
- Good afternoon," Alfred replied, not looking at who had just greeted him.
- Let me sit down? He asked.
- There is! Say it?
- I asked if you let me sit down.
- Yes of course! The words were not very expressive.
"Forgive my invasion, but I've seen you here since morning, and they're already ...- he looked at the electronic panel before him - ...21 hours! Are you okay?
- Say it!?
- There is! Do you feel well? Can I help you with anything? Do you want a glass of water? You want me to call somebody?
- A glass of water is fine.

# London, 8:39

Every day is one day. Think of specific objectives, with scheduling activities, is pure speculation that, in general, for statistics events, it may unfold; essentially covered by inconsistent terms to match, they change all planned and intentions of action projects. The accessory ceases to have any relevance in the concrete; the time comes to an end. The timer stops, the dry hourglass and the cuckoo loses the corner.