Against Elections


The road I travelled to become a fanatic of elections began, not when I was 19 years old and voted for the first time but fifteen years before, when my parents took me to the polling place with them for the presidential elections in which Belisario would win. The atmosphere was unusually festive, with the streets filled with people and flags, and cars honking with enthusiasm, papered with posters of the candidates. In a corner, while my parents spoke with some acquaintances, my sister and I joined other children to sing at the top of our lungs that tune we have heard the whole day: “Galán al poder, López a barrer…!“.

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