It is known that Phidias, the sculptor

of Pericles, erected a statue over twenty meters high
in honor of Zeus. Of all that beauty,
not a single stone survived. But
the sign of pride and the shadow of the God remained in human memory.
Thus, Time devours everything
with infinite greed. However, perhaps as a
symbol of good manners, it always leaves
a trace, a crumb, a shadow.
Centuries will pass, and in some
archaeology textbook, a boy or girl
will read, perhaps with astonishment, that there was a
Land called Argentina and that in the years
of a deranged emperor, the
guard beat the heads of its elders with clubs,
every Wednesday.
Of this miserable government,
not a single stone will remain. But
in human memory, we will be a source of ridicule; perhaps they will translate us as
the Society that crowned a fool
and watched its own decline without glory, shame, or reason.