The dying Mango tree and the Dogs are Saints

7 months ago I made my first publication for Steemit,  since then I did not publish again till now, so this time I want to share something different, something like a recount of these last months of my life, in small vignettes, and try to rescue the most relevant.

It all started a couple of months ago when I remembered that I had an account in Steemit which several months ago I used  to vent out , I was so depressed at the time, with no job, no food, poor internet connection plus more than a month without  water supply and blackouts almost every night. I don't remember exactly who said that every existential crisis is linked to a social crisis, I think it was Sartre.

Fear is something contagious here where I live, as a kind of virus, one of many around and the grand majority had been infected. I can't help to remember William Burroughs in The Electronic Revolution, when he says; "Remember the life cycle of a virus ... penetration of a cell or activation within the cell, replication within the cell, escape from the cell to invade other cells, escape from host to infect a new host."

Like any sick person, I kept rest while I was overcoming my illness, during those days my maternal grandmother who lives right next door and with whom I share a large part of the backyard decided to completely prune the mango tree that covered most of the land with its great shade, the excuse was that the roots were breaking the floor of her house and that she also needed the space to plant bananas.

The tree used to be a refuge and at the same time a provider of food for hundreds of animals, especially birds, the next day the same person who cut it, made a ringed bark, there was nothing I could do to stop it, I just felt sad and saw a part of me die along with the tree, it was my grandfather who planted it a few months before I was born more than 30 years ago.

Once I overcome those hollow months I decide to take my DSLR camera and do some street photography, so it was unavoidable that the pictures somehow reflect the way a was felling inside due to the previous months.

There is garbage and stray dogs poking around, all mistreated, mangy and starving, no one cares really, the vast majority looks away, everyone is too busy thinking about hyperinflation, the lack of food, the queues to withdraw cash from the bank, to care for their sick ones, to escape from the country by the nearest border and we forgot the stray dogs, and the environment, there is no time to think about that, fear has become a pandemic. It is well known that in the countries of the first world stray dogs are sent to kennels where after a certain time they sacrificed, any of that is done here, so they have to suffer until the end, they suffer like the passion of Christ, here the stray dogs are true saints.

There is a saying here that states; "the neediness has the face of a dog"

While preparing this post I saw a French movie made in 1995, My Dog from director Georges Franju, I totally recommend it, it was quite moving.

I hope that you all enjoy my post and please make some comments, I will love to know all your opinions, now I will stay more constant here in Steemit..