Compañera Camila
Where is Neruda now to sing of you, Comrade Vallejo? His would be an apt voice to ennoble, know your fire, as few others could (I am not one, wrapped in cotton wool of Art for its own sake, without the balls to brave the Fascist cannons as you have done). They'll kill you, Comrade, make an icon of resistance, buy you - Mammon's clutches of billionaires: the stooge Piñera! (a parasite from this, or any, era), sucking the weal, and old spiders who brood voraciously. The darkness of a day elapsed, a day nourished with our sad blood, concludes the desperate struggle of decay.