Convert Catalonia into farms

Do you hear it? Yes, in the coming years one of the noisiest changes will be phonetic. We will go from animal farms with the traditional: oink, oink; cock-a-doodle-doo; moooo; baaaa... to farms of people and their newly installed bellows, screams, groans: "Good morning", "Good night", "Who the hell has the remote?", "I don't know why the hell I married you!", "Make that kid shut up already!" This is what can be achieved with this Catalan law that will allow farms and warehouses to be converted into housing for other animals.

Sounds good, they'll say. We can't confuse squealing with human roasting. Let's get to the grill. The decree is for towns with fewer than two thousand inhabitants. The intentions with dolby surround for the common good sound: solve housing problems; combat depopulation; achieve earthly happiness; reward with portland non-floral games... But the question is: do they really want to transform the towns of Catalonia into human incinerators for greater Barcelona? Will the country become an immense, infinite, colossal Metropolitan Area of Destruction? Will Catalonia become Barcelonia?

Building apartments, houses, dens, burrows, bunkers in farms and warehouses is above all very expensive. Destroy a lot, build a lot. This means that the niches that are made will have to be economically and socially very deadly. Transferring a city ant-hill model is poisoning the towns. Horizontal toxic skyscrapers: cemeteries. But, if you wish, we aspire to eternity in life. Will there be life after this? Yes, a lot.

What will be the existential soundtrack of a village of five hundred inhabitants if a hundred people are crammed into a human farm? And a village of fifteen hundred souls if twenty caves are built? Is the town hall, the school, the streets, the garbage, the maintenance, the order, the feral cats, the church bells, the landscape, the air, the neurons, the coexistence prepared? No.

There are already concrete ghettos in many villages. They live apart, aside. They leave the farm in the morning and return at night. In the name of many things (the arguments that are now repeated) thousands of sarcophagi have been built (many of them concrete corpses without a shred of nervous tissue for years). People who live and do not live. But beings that already cause conflicts, problems, newly created chickens without a solution. The small has become big and the sum and subtraction results in negative life. It is heard. It will be heard.

A village is the soundtrack of a community. The sound of a human nuclear power plant. The music of a carnal, anímic garlic oil. Without the audio of the salad, the carajillo, the coca de recapte of a we, there is only death and destruction. A village is the contamination of people at school, the bar, parties, the association of friends of wild thyme; the club of observers of murices... One thing is a village; another, farms and warehouses. One thing is that villages must be alive and that people do not leave and others arrive. But a village cannot pay for the destruction and sale of great Barcelona. Because the butcher shop already had the foundations laid. The farms and warehouses belong to dead, or dying, farmers. Village houses are murdered by lethal illiterate bureaucracy. More housing will not bring more life. Water is necessary to live, but it also kills. One can die of thirst and drowning. And here we go: Noah's arks of cement will not be the salvation of the villages. Do you hear the screams? They are the shrieks, the howls, the squeaks of human farms.