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January 23, 2020

Rains in the lives of homeless people is like Dante's Inferno for a saint

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Minor and Homeless

Rains, showers and showers! Many times I cursed the rains !!!!!Rain on life from homeless people is Dante's Inferno to a Saint. The life of a homeless person is a b *** a.

And who always had where to sleep, has no idea !!!

The Rains in the Life of a Homeless

Publishing something like this on Christmas eve is deliberate.

I want to force you to look at that person who holds out your hands every morning

And that every afternoon, when she again reaches out to you, you may reflect:

What if it was me there, hopeless, if P **** none? May be you still tomorrow!

And if you look at yourself or answer me in some way that you are good at what you do and you are irreplaceable!

I tell you something very shrewd:

“Os cemitérios estão repletos de insubstituíveis”.

And look, the life of a homeless man, no matter how clever he is crise:

Where am I going to sleep today:

Believe me, the homeless always, or almost always, has a place.

Um lugar “mais ou menos seguro”. 😳😳😳

Este lugar em que o morador de rua “se hospeda” é uma calçada”.

Do you know that threshold of a store that is a little further back?

It's there!

Até o dia em que alguém manda criar, em uma serralheria, um “dispositivo” com “inumeráveis pequenas lanças!

And gone the walk! 😡😡😡

Well, I had two very disturbing stories about this phenomenon called rain!

Are Rainfalls in Homeless People's Life Dante's Inferno for a Saint Just Phenomenon Weather / Atmospheric? No!

One of them is related to a trip I made to Santos, intending to work as a docker. The dockers laughed at me!

But this is not the occasion I want to address now in this text. The fact is, to tell you what I am going to tell you now, you have to explain.

First, I have to explain all my modus vivendi, which I developed in the face of the absolute lack of choice!

The Rains and you, homeless, as part of the decoration

Chega um momento, quando se vive na rua, que você “passa a fazer parte da decoração”. E, explicando o facilmente explicável, eu passei a ser parte dessa “decoração”.

Todas aquelas pessoas que, junto comigo, viviam nas ruas ou aqueles que, de uma forma ou de outra, passavam o dia inteiro na rua eram conhecidos como:…

…O Povo da Rua. Because, the Rains in the lives of homeless people is Dante's Hell for a Saint.

And being part of this fellowship had advantages and disadvantages. The worst of these disadvantages was being well known by police investigators and military police soldiers who, nonsense and absurd among nonsense, were the folly of the Delegate Jose Wilson Richett, they even led to those who were already known, even though they knew none of them (including me) posed danger, risk, or threat to society, to the 3rd Police District police station on Aurora Street.

Power abuse. Even these crap disappeared on rainy days and nights!

On nights like that, or that sad sequence of the four nights, narrated on the blog, I would ask them to check me out of that!

I am not proud of it. I was so well known that I could say I was a accustomed! Eu fazia, sempre que visto, parte da cota diária de pessoas que eles precisavam levar para “averiguação”.

To situate the young and those who unknowingly say they are extreme right.

Holy patience with the ignorance of these idiots!

Not even the great military of the country wants such a thing!

Naquele era o tempo, quando qualquer investigador ou policial que olhasse para a pessoa e visse nela “a possibilidade de ser um criminoso”, já tinha o justo direito de interpelar.

Ask for your documents and, in the face of a work card without a current and up-to-date record, take it to the Police District as an inquiry.

I went it myself. I was taken with my damn wallet signed

Systematic Distortions

As a result, distortions occurred and the person who was placed inside the van was not always a person with an unregistered work card.

They were minors or women who were walking along Avenida Rio Branco, since this avenue was well known at that time for the highest rate of sex workers per square meter. Just remembering, It gets on my nerves!

Nevertheless, women who had nothing to do with it and who lived in the area were taken by these insane (better placed) and placed in a cell for investigation. A woman who had no idea how to proceed when someone told her:

The shoe, the bed and the ox

-“Joga o sapato no boi”.

As encarceradas dormiam no chão. O chão era a cama, como você ousaria pisar, com sapatos vindos das ruas, a “cama destas pessoas”. A coisa começava a feder ali mesmo, naquele momento. Mas…

See you !!!!!!

And it was not just one and not two women who were arrested for investigation and became desperate. Many of them had left only and only to go to the little grocery store next door and return quickly, for they had left the pressure cooker on low heat.

Well, I think the paragraphs above talk a lot about what is the rule of law.

The relationship of violated human rights.

In those days, it was very difficult.

Talk about human rights!

Someone to have the courage to defend human rights needed to have balls !!!.

But I quote, for example, Archbishop Evaristo Arns*. An icon among giants.

What is not lacking today are people defending human rights, raising flags that I consider ambiguous and doubtful. For an experience, when the Women's Lawyer Commission helped me out of a very tough problem, I had the help of the OAB Human Rights Commission. And her representative was wordy and I list to tell me: Let's not help you not!

I was P. of Life
That's how I felt at that moment, wanting to say VTMNC

On this topic, I gave some initial strokes in the previous text, where I recognize the legitimacy of defending human rights of people who are in a state of total and complete vulnerability.

People who are unable to make proper decisions for their own survival, and who are already in obvious slavery-like living conditions!

At the time I lived on the streets, no such thing existed.

Mesmo sendo um menor de idade. Ninguém que tivesse juízo, abrigaria um menor vindo dos lugares em que eu costumava frequentar. Lugares que, naqueles dias, eram conhecidos como “puteiros”.

Prostibles I Attended Them

These were buildings that, for some reason I can't discern, ended up depreciated and undervalued. Their owners (I don't quite understand how they got together) made arrangements for each apartment to have the purpose of exploiting the pimple.*.

What I do know, really, is that these buildings had their functions fully established by the time I discovered them.

The frequency with which I visited these places made me known as a peta! , a person who frequented these buildings, with no intention of hiring the services of any sex worker, but to take advantage and some pleasure, of course, of the devices that these girls used, in order to win the client!

The underage who was only once for FEBEM!

But I was smaller, and let's say that I already had some way with women… What I ended up getting was the friendliness of these girls and even the owners and owners of these apartments!

This way, I ended up being turned into a kind of office boy destes “estabelecimentos comerciais”.

Da mesma maneira, eu também me tornando conhecido dos funcionários desses prédios que, em geral, eram pessoas com mais de 60 anos, esquecidas pelo “Sistema de Previdência Social, e que, sem recursos para ganhar suas vidas, acabavam trabalhando nesses lugares como ascensoristas, faxineiros e porteiros.

The System, always the System

They were children of an economic system that seems to be trying to reestablish itself in this country!

But since I'm not here to talk about politics, I go back to my personal story, where the one who saved my life one night was one of those porters. He did know that rains in the lives of homeless people are Dante's Hell for a Saint!

One of those unfortunate victims of the macabre and sadistic system of capitalism who seems to defend only, in fact, that 1% of the richest in our society, so supportive that they deserve to be, is imprisoned in solitary confinement.

I believe I was 14, maybe 15, and I was still going to eat a lot of shit in my life.

I do know why and I say this why put me in Hell

O fato aconteceu em uma determinada noite, na qual, eu nem sei direito porquê, estava impossibilitado de aparecer nos prédios, onde eu poderia dizer que era “o meu território”.

That night it was raining hard, and I had no idea how to shelter. A rain that some would say was God who sent, but that, I thought, was the devil who sent!

Rain I don't know. It was a rain only that did not give a minute of truce

The important thing about all this is that I, from trial to trial, ended up knocking on the door of one of these porters and asked to enter. Since it was after midnight, and the building's activities had ceased, it was all I had left in trying to shelter myself from the rain.

The building had a very noisy metal door, because when I knocked it with a clenched fist, the sound could be heard almost every block of downtown (now called the old center) of Sao Paulo.

The metal door also had a small window that allowed those taking care of the building at night to be opened or ajar and watch who knocked at times when the property was already closed, so as to know whether or not to open the blessed door!

The Dialogue: Get Me Out of the Rain, by God

And through that hatch, a man put his eyes out and asked what I wanted.

-” Eu preciso entrar! Está chovendo demais! Estou com muito frio”.

-“Eu não posso deixar você entrar! Se eu deixar você entrar e a polícia der uma batida aqui, eles me prendem e eu nunca mais saio da Casa de Detenção!”

Here among us, probably, that man had lived similar things and was covered in reason. However, I was also covered in reason and water!

The Final Decision: If I have to die, let me die here, before your door.

I answered his statement something like this:

– “Se você não abrir a porta, eu vou acabar morrendo aqui! E como não tenho mais a quem recorrer, eu vou sentar aqui do lado de fora e ver o que me acontece. Pois, com toda a certeza, eu vou morrer!”

I need to put here that I did not say exactly in those terms, because, I believe, I had no such vocabulary. But in fact, I sat there and stayed right there, because the tiredness it was very violent and I was already a little wet.

Better to die? Or would it be better to be an okra on the barbecue plate?

I think at that moment I understood that it was better to die than to continue vegetating like that!

But that didn't last even three minutes. That man, I don't even know why, opened the door and, pointing to me, indicated that I walk towards the elevator.

A porta do elevador estava aberta, mas o carro do elevador não estava ali. Este senhor ordenou que eu entrasse e me deu uma espécie de “forração para outros carpetes, aquela coisa mal feita que gera coceiras até em um tatu ou crocodilo, sei lá!!!”.

He told me not to make a single sound. If the elevator was called again, he would order me out.

If you couldn't quite understand what happened, I put it here in a few letters, what was really happening to me.

The Rains, the Pit and the Mold made My Immune System an Elite Troop

I lay in the elevator shaft that was littered with garbage, smelling of hellish mold. I didn't remember the cockroaches or the risk of a rat bite or mega piss. I just stood there, staring at the elevator car, about a foot away from me.

I knew that if I wasn't there I would be on the street, and on the street that night, with that cold and that rain, I would surely die.

Two decades later I was diagnosed as a person infected with HIV. If it were not for that man, the victim of a system that will be so wickedly found in hell itself, I would not have come this far and would certainly not be here writing these things to you.

Flashback: In fact, the night of those rains was worth it!

Looking back, reliving that night and feeling very alive here, that smell again, all I know, realize and believe is that God gave me that night, or during that night, a kind of training for my immune system that, from that day on it became something much like an elite troop!

And all this, friends who read me and enemies who read me and loathe me, are things and facts for which I am thankful to God! Surely I would not have had a chance to be here if my immune system had not been so well trained how he went that night!

The more I look back, the more I understand certain things and, to be sure, the more thankful to God I get.

So, my reader friends and my always-watched detractors, be sure of one thing: Everything is as God wishes.

Your opinion is important! Please make your review about this text!

Thank you

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