Every man is many people...

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·@nancybriti1·
0.000 HBD
Every man is many people...
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<center>Images from my personal gallery</center>

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# <center>Every man is many people</center>
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<div class="text-justify">Several weeks ago, exactly one month ago, I went to a chicken coop for the first time. I went by chance. We were leaving a funeral home with a group of friends and as we were thirsty, we decided to have a few beers to pass the heat. We looked for a place nearby and we only found a chicken place where they offered cold and cheap beers.

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I must confess that at 51 years old I still haven't done many things and going to a henhouse was one of them. So, enthused by my friends, I went for the first time.


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<div class="text-justify">We were a group of three women and two men, all university professionals, between 50 and 60 years old. As soon as we entered the place, they turned to look at us. We imagined that it might seem strange that people like us, especially three women, were there.

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From the beginning, we noticed that the men tried to be gentlemanly with us and offered us seats so that we, the three women, could sit down. My friends went to get the beers and left us seated, watching us attentively around us.


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<div class="text-justify">While we were there, the other men approached us offering us beers, asking our names and if any of the men with us were our husbands. They introduced themselves as well, and although they were humble looking, they pulled large amounts of money out of their pockets, showed us the latest model cell phones, and even pointed out their cars in the parking lot.


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Those ostentatious behaviors were intended not only to attract attention, but also to show how much they had in comparison with the others: a kind of power competition between men.


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As I watched the roosters compete, I reflected on the DNA of males of all species. At that moment each rooster showed his feathers, his claws and ferocity before the other roosters in front of them. The men, before other men, in their turn, shouted with real passion their might, their animals, as if the roosters were themselves.

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<div class="text-justify" >One of the men who approached me to talk confessed that his wife had left him because he had this habit of going to the cockfighting ring every week and that was why he was single. He told me that that day he had brought enough money to bet on a rooster: his rooster. That his money would multiply 100%, he said as if he had made a pact with the gods. But that day the gods abandoned him and at the second fight, the man threw the animal into the arena: the animal jumped, stung several times, but received from the other animal a peck so lethal that it drew streams of blood. The man picked up his animal before the shouting of those present, who shouted humiliating words. More than the animal, it was the man who looked like a dead rooster.</div>

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##### images are from my personal gallery and the text was translated with Deepl
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##### Thank you for reading and commenting. Until next time, friends
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