Anything but the storm

He is the foretold storm, a hurricane poised to sweep away fragile democracy with winds laden with resentment and false promises. Anti-democratic by nature, like someone who strips dreams of their colors and paints them with oppressive gray, his face plastered on posters, coldly smiling, an accomplice to the enemies of freedom.

He delights in confronting NATO. For him, the alliance is an obstacle to be destroyed, a wall to be torn down mercilessly. Every declaration he makes is like a stone thrown at the window of peace, shattering collective security into a thousand pieces.

In his hands, tariffs transform into weapons of economic destruction, a power game where every move is calculated to destabilize and cause pain. He loves the chaos he creates as if the tariffs were dissonant notes in a discordant symphony conducted by a maestro only he understands.

And then there’s Putin, the mirror in which he sees himself reflected. Pro-Putin, as if camaraderie with the Russian leader were a mark of distinction, an indecorous tattoo displayed with pride. They are two chess players on a blood-stained board, moving pieces that are human lives and destinies intertwined in a macabre dance.

The party he leads is a specter, a shadow cast against women’s rights, especially the right to decide over their bodies. Female freedom is a book locked with rusty chains, each page a story of stifled struggle. And he, with his authoritarian presence, embodies the denial of this autonomy, an unyielding guard in the invisible cells of women.

I am talking about Trump. I feel entitled to take a side since I know what happened with our Uncle Sam, which is reflected here. For me, the choice is as clear as the sunrise. There is no doubt between freedom and oppression, autonomy and tyranny. He, with his arsenal of destructive policies and his gaze, lost in a past of control and power, is the antithesis of everything that values human dignity. Life is made of decisions that reveal our true essence, and mine, in this scenario, is clear as crystal: I reject the suffocating embrace of the storm; I choose the gentle breeze of freedom.

Like many others, I am exasperated with Biden’s stubborn refusal to release his grip on power. Yet, if he remains in the race, my support, however reluctant, stays with him. My preferences against Trump are unequivocal:

First, another Democrat. Then Biden, alive, dead, or as a walking dead Joe: anything but the storm.