Dr. Pepe Maria Dominguez applauded from one corner of the Palatio's meeting room, an extended although down-tempo clap-clap which in another context may have been construed as a sarcastic utilisation of the hand appendages. Domniguez's sincerity was nevertheless as clear as the light of the sun.
"Gentlemen, may I please have a moment.
I have listened to these proceedings like the fisherman listens to the sound of a favourable wind in anticipation of the coming of Mama Cocha, the protective goddess of the men who labour in the water.
I be no diplomatic man....I be not this kind of man. And let me state, gentlemen, with the most deep of profundities, that the diplomatic man, methinks he be a little man, yes he be a little man - what in the history of the world has been so as to disclose other than the working of the marionnette, a history that gives us full view of the silver threads that control his gay movements? Gay, of course I utilise in the archaic sense, although depending on the narrative and the gendered subjectivities at stake this sense can assume a bisemiotic form.
I thought that the diplomat-man he be a little man - but no, I see that the diplomat-man may not be a little man, but in radical contrast, may accomplish great things. And this is what has happened here. I thought the worst of this meeting beforehand, I was overcome with the black thoughts: that the system as it were would not function and no punitive gesture would be initiated against the actions of the criminal los golpistas in my Ecuadorian homeland. This be not the case and the motions you take be thorough as weell as radical and for the future of South America. The decisions made in this opulent room of discourse be of the species momentous, belonging to the genus of the historically epic.
But nevertheless I be the frank man, and a thorn remains lodged in my paw after what I have been privy to here.
I say that Colombia, yes and I point to you directly sir, for I see you, I see your strings and I see your marionette handlers, in the form of your American imperalist capitalist masters. I see that your Colombian hand, stained by the illegal trade of the cocoa leaf, your nostrils enflamed by its abuse, which the Indigenous man knows, in contrast, to use in the englightened sense, which you know nothing of, yes, you know nothing of this cocoa use - I SEE THE COLOMBIAN HAND. How dare you attempt to curtail the most significant movement in South America since the first and original Bolivar, this second re-incarnation, for it be so, you oppose it, you oppose this re-incarnation event. I know why you dare to do so, for it be because your master stands behind you, your tall and muscular master, yes he stand behind you - oh yes, I VIEW HIM - I detect his satanic presence, oh yes.
Restrain me security guards, oh yes, restrain me. Restrain me before I commit an undiplomatic movement, for gentlemen, I be no diplomat."
Dominguez waited a moment, yet the room was as motionless as a forest of statues.
With no reaction from the security guards, Dominguez left the room according to his own autonomous subjectivity, convinced of the style as well as the power with which he had presented his discourse to the gathered men of diplomacy.