IconElegies

I knew, of course, that I had been followed for a long time, threatened, but it was nothing new. Old Russia was waiting for me in the shadows of the staircase on Putin's birthday. There was nothing to fear in my last steps, I could not fear, because fear rules and someone must tell the truth, even to those who did not want to hear it. A shot, two, I heard no more, darkness descended on Moscow and on me. A poet's note. Anna Politkovskaya was a Russian journalist and Putin critic.

That's how it happened. The football season was over. I lived a long time. Too long. Even a young wife wasn't enough to keep me alive. I've already done everything I wanted to. And I dared. This wasn't fun anymore. I wasn't fun. I decided my fate, like always. It was easy, it didn't hurt. And you don't shoot just anyone into the sky with a cannon. Poet's Note. Hunter S. Thompson was the father of gonzo journalism

My short life was crazy. One day, I delivered a challenge to a duel, and I got shot myself. The emperor's cousin shot me. He couldn't wait, I guess. And the madness didn't stop there. My death was to start a revolution. Even crazier, women rub my bronze penis in the cemetery,  thinking they're getting pregnant. Not me, of course. Anymore. Poet´s note. Victor Noir was a French journalist who is buried in the Pere-Lachaise cemetery.