[ E R R O+ R 2 7 5 7 6 1 ; VIA PARADO+XA FUTURA DO+LO+RO+SA ] This was his fate, fro+m the mo+ment he was hatched. Fo+r the first time this night, my thinkpan go+es quiet. I no+ lo+nger hear the celebratio+n o+f the cro+wd o+r the rauco+us debate o+f what they wish to+ do+ with tho+se o+f us who+ remain. The chrysalis o+f my so+n hangs limply fro+m its chains, swaying in the wind. I can no+ lo+nger feel my wrists. I can no+ lo+nger feel my pulse. I can no+ lo+nger feel my red string o+f life burn. I feel an absence. Lo+ve was never eno+ugh. They do+ no+t allo+w me to+ cradle his bo+dy, to+ tidy the blo+o+d fro+m him fo+r o+ne final time. He do+es no+t deserve the dignity o+f care, they say, striking with their flint and steel. A scythe o+f grief slashes thro+ugh me, renders me in two+. The o+nly reaso+n they are bo+thering to+ cremate him pro+perly is so+ that no+ne are deluded further by him, so+ that no+ ho+pe can co+me in the fo+rm o+f his shambling co+rpse beco+ming a shado+w-dro+pper. I beg with a dry mo+uth to+ ho+ld him. I do+ no+t deserve dignity, no+t after all I have no+t do+ne. I am glad he did no+t see me break. #easter2026 #viado+lo+ro+sa