There are very few things of which I have something similar, even remotely, to a certainty. But experience tells me that the world, in every sense that concerns the human brain, is paradoxical and bipolar. These days I have seen countless posts written and whatever in favor of science, science as the salvation of humanity. And I agree one hundred percent? if the world were not paradoxical and bipolar.
Thus, it turns out that behind all the problems that science is going to solve for us, science itself is creating them. And that is neither good nor bad, it is paradoxical and bipolar. Now I am in the position of a fool floating in a barrel in the middle of the greatest naval battle in history. And I remember this Buddhist "tale": Once upon a time there was a man who was wounded by a poisoned arrow. His family and friends wanted to get him a doctor, but the sick man refused, saying that first he wanted to know the name of the man who had wounded him, the caste to which he belonged and his place of origin. He also wanted to know if this man was tall, strong, had a light or dark complexion, and he also required to know what type of bow he had shot him with, and if the bowstring was made of bamboo, hemp or silk. He said he wanted to know if the feather of the arrow came from a falcon, a vulture or a peacock... And wondering if the bow that had been used to shoot him was a common bow, a curved one or one of oleander and all kinds of similar information, the man died without knowing the answers.
So who are those who launch viruses or take advantage of a virus launched by nature to control the world, from my barrel it matters little to me. Right now a destroyer is coming at full speed towards the fool in the barrel and you can imagine what good it does to wave at him. It didn't hit me, but the torpedo that was going for him almost blew me up. Now I take the opportunity to collect food and things that are floating, wow!, and I'm going to have to pick up one of the warriors who is waving at me from the water. Do you see the paradox? We will become colleagues, although he is capable of cutting my throat and keeping the barrel for himself. He is very scared.
This morning at dawn I came across a family that was swimming peacefully as if they were in another world; the father was swimming on his back with a child on his belly sitting with his legs hanging and his feet in the water, the mother was swimming next to them; although it seemed that they were not making any effort, they soon moved away from me. They seemed extraordinarily at peace and happy. Like the sea. And the ships disappeared in a strange fog. Then, when I began to feel uneasy seeing them move away without even seeing me, I realized that two white dolphins were swimming next to the barrel; I took out my hand and caressed them.
Now I don't care about anything anymore, I sail calmly between paradox and bipolarity. With the vision of the family and the touch of the dolphin's skin that got into my heart. The soldier I picked up is a Yankee, but a mulatto; his father tells me that he is from Colombia and his mother is from Majorera. Like mine, and together we cried for a while remembering them. And then we had to jump into the water and hide behind the barrel, because not far away a submarine has surfaced.
The Majorero says they are looking for the coke; his ship was the supplier of the flotilla. And the Russians must have intercepted some communication. They hadn't been able to get close to the fleet for days and the desperate people had skipped the security protocols of the communications. The fucking coke, damn it!, the admiral had said with visible light in Morse code, but the captain of the Majorero only saw the dots, the dashes confused him. I don't know where and until when the barrel will take us. But I suspect that those on the ships know even less where they are going.
And I know that if there are men in their safe mansions directing this mess for their own good, none of them will caress a white dolphin in a thousand years. Now we are making a raft with the bales. Ha!, we found them; the ships left in a hurry; in the distance a Chinese fleet was seen. And the Russians and the Yankees went to fight elsewhere.
Another paradox is that neither the Majorero nor I feel like a line of coke. Now the two of us, here on our raft with a barrel, are even happy. Let's see how long it lasts. The other paradox is that we don't do a line and the world is going over the line. I explain to the Majorero that life is like electricity: there is no light with only the positive cable. I would like the white dolphins to return so that he can caress them and rest in peace.
