The author wakes up and checks social media for the state of the country, finding a weariness he describes as ancient and deep, lodged in the chest where hope once lived. This is not physical tiredness, but an accumulated fatigue from disillusionment with politics and unfulfilled promises.
Figueiredo Santos describes how for years they told the people that the State belonged to them, and they believed it. However, when they looked at the State and then at themselves, they realized it was "the 'we' that was left out." The author criticizes the vicious cycle: promises followed by commissions to study them, working groups and reports, places where problems die after being well fed. He contrasts household management, where one tries to find out where money was spent, with State management, where studies are created instead of answers.
The article also addresses modern political language, full of words like transparency, sustainability and inclusion, which the author considers beautiful but unable to enter people's lives. He denounces that they speak a lot about the people and for the people, but rarely with the people, and that whoever asks questions is quickly labeled a populist. The most dangerous question, according to him, is "who benefited?", because it brings memory and this bothers governments.
The author concludes that perhaps the real problem is not the loss of faith in democracy, but in the distance between those who command and those who obey. He ironically suggests the creation of a Ministry of Hope and Waiting. He argues that the people do not ask for much: only a home where their children's lives can fit, to grow old with dignity, to be heard without shouting, and for words to once again keep what they promise. The manguito, a Portuguese gesture of silent resistance, is presented as a symbol of this popular fatigue.
