"... Dear Mr. Future,
of my highest consideration:
I am writing this letter to ask a favor. You will excuse the nuisance.
No, not fear, not that I want to know. It must be you a man in demand, there will be many people who want to have the taste, but not me. When I caught a gypsy hand to read my future, I run to the shot before she can commit such cruelty. And
But you, mysterious gentleman, is the promise that our steps pursue wanting direction and destination. And is this world, this world and not another world, where you ahead. To me, and many who do not believe in gods who promise us more lives in hotels lejanísimos Beyond.
And therein lies the problem, Mr. Future. We are running the world. The violent kick, like a ball. Play with him the warlords, like a hand grenade, and you squeeze the voracious, like a lemon. At this rate, I fear, sooner or later the world could not be more than a dead rock spinning through space, without land, without water, no air and no soul.
That is what Mr Future. I ask, we ask, who do not get evicted. To be, to be, we need you to continue to be, that you will continue. We help you defend your home, which is the home of time. Let us gauchada
that, please. For ourselves and others: the others will follow, if we later.
Yours sincerely,
A land ... "
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