Some luck, others death

I have been asked if I feel lucky in life. Theorizing about what luck is or isn't is very hackneyed, but in these times of burdens, borders and ores it is more necessary than ever.. I am not lucky to work in what I like or have good friends, I have earned that, I feel lucky to have been born where I was born, for which I have not done any merit. Nor have children born in Gaza, Biafra or North Korea made merit.

Feeling excessive pride for being from a place has always seemed childish to me, I am proud of what I earn, not of what I get. Therefore, when people cling to borders like an immovable mantra, a border being the most lax, ductile and diffuse thing there is, as world history shows, I am invaded by the shame of others.. Consider those who talk about their country, or rather autonomous community, as if they were talking about their car, the one that belongs to them, they have paid in installments and they take more care of themselves than their child.. Also shameful are the speeches in which insecurity or illness is blamed on those who come from outside, because what is outside is dangerous.

There is nothing more stupid than thinking that the unknown is bad, for the simple fact of being different, fear makes us stupid.. Of course, when other people have money, then fears dissipate and language once again puts things in their place.. If you are black and poor you are an immigrant, if you are black and a soccer player you are a star, if you are humble and South American you are poor, if you are rich and South American you are an investor. Let's call things by their name, they are not menas, they are minors, they are not burdens, they are people, it is not pride of country, it is racism and xenophobia.