Stories and News No. 725
Another boat capsizes off Sicilian sea, near Italy coast.
Other unfortunate people died.
And the usual game started again...
Once upon a time there was the boats.
The boats with many migrants.
Too many.
Even for the boats.
Let alone His Majesty The Sea.
Read it as well as the innocent giant who shakes life from his shoulders.
The story of all stories always told the same... story.
Forgive the repetition, but I have not written the latter.
I'm just the one who strives to change it.
In the story of always the same stories, boats collapsed.
Often, not ever.
Because the unexpected happens even in the reign of noble front pages.
It happens in life.
Let alone the fiction.
A boat capsized and so far nothing new.
However, the ride of death by drowning stopped just at the climax.
Pause, still picture on the obvious impending tragedy, a moment before starting again with the usual party game.
Who was? Many asked.
Who has dared to obstruct the inevitable events’ flowing?
A little girl with a strange name was clutching the sacred remote.
With a wry smile on her face and a finger on the button that you do not expect.
Pause.
Who is she? Many shouted.
Who could leave the narrative’s fate in the hands of an illegal immigrant and even spiteful little girl?
No one answered, except for her.
"Let's make the boats were dices," she suggested, "but special ones, with a myriad of faces, as many as the alternative to hell in life."
The boats are not dices, many screamed moving to her, don’t talk nonsense and give us the remote control.
"Stay where you are," she replied moving her finger on the button you would not want, especially if you are on the best side of the largest boat, the one that never capsizes. "Another step and I delete everything and everyone."
Pause.
Silence, still image and silence.
It’s wonderful, she thought, when the surface world is forced to watch and listen.
In silence.
"Let's make the boats were dices," she repeated enlarging the mocking smile, " with a myriad of faces, as many as the roads leading to an island that is not yours. So my mother and my father, everybody and me too, will no longer fear that earth and sky could change place. Because when the boat will be completely capsized, game will restart but we will never be the same. "
"I will not be the same.
"I will be the one who watches TV and is moved by tears, I will be the one who does not care because the last downloaded application does not update, I will be the one who does not know anything because lives too far and the one who does not know anything because lives too close.
"I will be one among those who use the dead to accuse the living and among those who do exactly the opposite.
"More than anything, better than all has already been, I will be a spectator, the one who looks and listens, somewhere, wherever it is.
"Everywhere except here, one time above and a moment later under."
For real.
No stories.
And news.
Read other stories about racism.
Also on Stories and News:
Another boat capsizes off Sicilian sea, near Italy coast.
Other unfortunate people died.
And the usual game started again...
Once upon a time there was the boats.
Too many.
Even for the boats.
Let alone His Majesty The Sea.
Read it as well as the innocent giant who shakes life from his shoulders.
The story of all stories always told the same... story.
Forgive the repetition, but I have not written the latter.
I'm just the one who strives to change it.
In the story of always the same stories, boats collapsed.
Often, not ever.
Because the unexpected happens even in the reign of noble front pages.
It happens in life.
Let alone the fiction.
A boat capsized and so far nothing new.
However, the ride of death by drowning stopped just at the climax.
Pause, still picture on the obvious impending tragedy, a moment before starting again with the usual party game.
Who was? Many asked.
Who has dared to obstruct the inevitable events’ flowing?
A little girl with a strange name was clutching the sacred remote.
With a wry smile on her face and a finger on the button that you do not expect.
Pause.
Who is she? Many shouted.
Who could leave the narrative’s fate in the hands of an illegal immigrant and even spiteful little girl?
No one answered, except for her.
"Let's make the boats were dices," she suggested, "but special ones, with a myriad of faces, as many as the alternative to hell in life."
The boats are not dices, many screamed moving to her, don’t talk nonsense and give us the remote control.
"Stay where you are," she replied moving her finger on the button you would not want, especially if you are on the best side of the largest boat, the one that never capsizes. "Another step and I delete everything and everyone."
Pause.
Silence, still image and silence.
It’s wonderful, she thought, when the surface world is forced to watch and listen.
In silence.
"Let's make the boats were dices," she repeated enlarging the mocking smile, " with a myriad of faces, as many as the roads leading to an island that is not yours. So my mother and my father, everybody and me too, will no longer fear that earth and sky could change place. Because when the boat will be completely capsized, game will restart but we will never be the same. "
"I will not be the same.
"I will be the one who watches TV and is moved by tears, I will be the one who does not care because the last downloaded application does not update, I will be the one who does not know anything because lives too far and the one who does not know anything because lives too close.
"I will be one among those who use the dead to accuse the living and among those who do exactly the opposite.
"More than anything, better than all has already been, I will be a spectator, the one who looks and listens, somewhere, wherever it is.
"Everywhere except here, one time above and a moment later under."
For real.
No stories.
And news.
Read other stories about racism.
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