For: National and International civil Society
From: Subcomandante Insurgente Marcos
CCRI-CG of the EZLN.
Health, greetings. Stop. Bow to you many times. Stop. Supreme government with amnesia. Stop. Forgotten agreements. Stop. Renewed excuses. Stop. Probable need for more Indian blood in order to refresh memory. Stop. Your presence is urgent. Stop.
An intercontinental dance may serve to refresh memory. Stop. The grays hope to win. Stop.
Rainbow needed urgently. Stop. If there is dance I want one. Stop. Sigh. Stop. After you.
Stop. Sigh. Stop. Hand in hand and hand on waist. Stop. Sigh. Stop. 1, 2, 3. Stop. Sigh.
Vale. Stop. Health. Stop. May the dance paint floor-ceiling. Stop and End.
The Sup-thinking telegraphically and naively, that the periods and hyphens mark a tune for dancing and a path for walking.
From the mountains of the Mexican Southeast.
Subcomandante Insurgente Marcos.
Mexico, December of 1996.
P.S. WHICH ANNOUNCES THE REAPPEARANCE OF A BETTLE REMEMBERED AMONG SO MANY FORGOTTEN AGREEMENTS.
- A letter from Durito arrived. He says he is returning in order to return the memory of the scoundrels who have come back for their jurisdictions. He says he may be a little late because "Pegasus" (his turtle, I mean, his mount) gets vertigo at high speeds (you know, those above 50 centimeters per hour), and because he has many gifts (among them a lock of hair which holds promise according to Durito). He also says someone should save him a dance, that with that "hand in hand and hand on waist" he has many hands left over and asks if he can put them (his hands, of course) where the sighs become stereophonic. He says other things which morality and good behavior do not permit to be repeated if the stocks of the Lilliputian vendor are to keep their value (I mean what if we are sued).
Ah! He also adds a story whose text says;
"The story of the forever never"
"Once there was he who was all night. Shadow of shadows, solitary step, he walked many nights in order to find her.
Once there was a she who was all day. Twinkle of wheat, pure dance, she walked many days in order to find him.
They looked for each other much, he and she. The night pursued the day much. They both knew, he and she of the search which could not be found. It seemed it would never happen, it seemed impossible, it seemed never, ever...
And then the dawn came, for he and she. Forever, never..."Tan tan.
Durito's letter ended with this story. I, meanwhile, have already asked for sanctuary against being forgotten.
A vale made of nuts with nutmeg. Health and hope that the dawn will arrive soon and forever...
The Sup looking at a photo of Ché, which inexplicably, smiles (Ché does, of course).
Translated by: Cecilia Rodriguez, National Center for Democracy, Liberty, Justice, USA