Stories and News No. 700
The Washington Post photojournalist, Michel duCille, three times winner of the prestigious Pulitzer Prize, died of a heart attack in Liberia, doing his job.
Telling the truth about Ebola.
Telling everything, despite everything.
Think that just a couple of months ago the University of Syracuse, fearing Ebola, canceled his participation at a workshop for students, although duCille had followed all the practices to guarantee everybody’s safety.
That is the story of the stories.
And who tells them...
There is the story.
No once upon a time.
There is now.
With us.
Without us.
Despite us.
There is the story and those who live in the foreground.
Protagonists.
Under bright highlights, they stay there, enjoying the latter.
Or complaining about so much interest, flaunting fake humility.
There is the story and the army of supporting actors, voluntary or forced extras to serve the Olympus.
Mythological or digital one, there is not so much difference.
What matters is to admire.
What matters is the show must go on.
What matters is the adulating mass.
Because, without it, the golden penthouse collapses into dust.
There is the story and who writes it.
No, it is not famous people, you don’t need to guess.
They're out there, somewhere.
Many of them do not even know that the pen in their hands is the only one that really writes.
Sensible words and phrases born to remain.
The rest is just confusion for ears and heart.
In fact, there is the story and those who pretend to write it.
The names are there, the faces as well, more than ever, the cacophonous sound of their lives.
Made of the same substance of nightmares.
Made to be forgotten.
Finally, there is the story and those who tell it.
Wherever you turn, they are scrambling to get your attention tickling the eye and stomach, with special effects that have just the trick.
Gaudy packed boxes.
Empty.
Wait, don’t go away.
Please, stop running and take your time.
When fog has gone, noise fades, you see them.
Here they are.
The story and who, to tell it exactly as he sees it, is ready to die.
Watch, listen and read.
Maybe you will find love to do the same…
Read other stories with morals.
Also on Stories and News:
The Washington Post photojournalist, Michel duCille, three times winner of the prestigious Pulitzer Prize, died of a heart attack in Liberia, doing his job.
Telling the truth about Ebola.
Telling everything, despite everything.
Think that just a couple of months ago the University of Syracuse, fearing Ebola, canceled his participation at a workshop for students, although duCille had followed all the practices to guarantee everybody’s safety.
That is the story of the stories.
And who tells them...
There is the story.
No once upon a time.
There is now.
With us.
Without us.
Despite us.
There is the story and those who live in the foreground.
Protagonists.
Under bright highlights, they stay there, enjoying the latter.
Or complaining about so much interest, flaunting fake humility.
There is the story and the army of supporting actors, voluntary or forced extras to serve the Olympus.
Mythological or digital one, there is not so much difference.
What matters is to admire.
What matters is the show must go on.
What matters is the adulating mass.
Because, without it, the golden penthouse collapses into dust.
There is the story and who writes it.
No, it is not famous people, you don’t need to guess.
They're out there, somewhere.
Many of them do not even know that the pen in their hands is the only one that really writes.
Sensible words and phrases born to remain.
The rest is just confusion for ears and heart.
In fact, there is the story and those who pretend to write it.
The names are there, the faces as well, more than ever, the cacophonous sound of their lives.
Made of the same substance of nightmares.
Made to be forgotten.
Finally, there is the story and those who tell it.
Wherever you turn, they are scrambling to get your attention tickling the eye and stomach, with special effects that have just the trick.
Gaudy packed boxes.
Empty.
Wait, don’t go away.
Please, stop running and take your time.
When fog has gone, noise fades, you see them.
Here they are.
The story and who, to tell it exactly as he sees it, is ready to die.
Watch, listen and read.
Maybe you will find love to do the same…
Read other stories with morals.
Also on Stories and News: