Stories and News No. 750
I read that an eight years old Ivorian child named Abou was stopped in Spain at the border town of Ceuta.
He was hidden in a suitcase.
A trolley...
Once upon a time there was a trolley.
A magic trolley.
Making things disappear.
And so the magic works trust is necessary.
Because when all returns.
The world must necessarily be more beautiful than before.
In the magic trolley there was a hidden child.
So far, dismay in eyes and heart.
At least in the trace of remained humanity.
But I am here to tell you that the hidden child in the trolley there was unseen another child.
A girl, to be precise.
Smaller, undoubtedly.
But with no less authoritative aspirations.
Among the many one only in the guise of the most improbable dream.
To be the older child, the greater.
Secreted in the trolley.
Nevertheless, the story is not satiated of confidences and here I find myself adding the unusual.
The girl child who dreamed of being the hidden one in the trolley had concealed two other children.
Even smaller, to satisfy listening size-obsessed audience.
Twins, actually.
But not like the common ones.
That are never really alike.
They were identical, literally and that word was never more apt.
Because if you needed an irrefutable proof of their equality you would have find in their words.
In particular, all those that had to do with the only mirror which the young lives love to look in.
Every future, especially next ones.
All plausible tomorrows, but maybe not.
Following week and afterward month.
The year that we will live.
You and me, brother.
Me and you, sister.
How wonderful it might be if the same words were enough to feel close.
Nevertheless, the narrative is still hungry for pages and I am confessing that another life was hidden inside the two kids.
It is useless to say which of the two, since both are equal.
In fact, you know what?
I will not say even what kind of life it is.
Female, male, or whatever.
Western, or rained from each of the infinite cardinal points. Yes, infinite, not four, because in the stories destinations are innumerable.
Black, but maybe not. And you may fill that ‘no’ with all colors will make you easier to watch.
Human, a word for everything.
The creature who lives in one of the two children, but it does not matter which one.
Hidden in the girl child who dreams.
To be the first one.
It is enough to say that somewhere there is life.
Even in a trolley...
Read other stories about racism.
Storytelling with subtitles
Also on Stories and News:
I read that an eight years old Ivorian child named Abou was stopped in Spain at the border town of Ceuta.
He was hidden in a suitcase.
A trolley...
Once upon a time there was a trolley.
A magic trolley.
Making things disappear.
And so the magic works trust is necessary.
Because when all returns.
The world must necessarily be more beautiful than before.
In the magic trolley there was a hidden child.
So far, dismay in eyes and heart.
At least in the trace of remained humanity.
But I am here to tell you that the hidden child in the trolley there was unseen another child.
A girl, to be precise.
Smaller, undoubtedly.
But with no less authoritative aspirations.
Among the many one only in the guise of the most improbable dream.
To be the older child, the greater.
Secreted in the trolley.
Nevertheless, the story is not satiated of confidences and here I find myself adding the unusual.
The girl child who dreamed of being the hidden one in the trolley had concealed two other children.
Even smaller, to satisfy listening size-obsessed audience.
Twins, actually.
But not like the common ones.
That are never really alike.
They were identical, literally and that word was never more apt.
Because if you needed an irrefutable proof of their equality you would have find in their words.
In particular, all those that had to do with the only mirror which the young lives love to look in.
Every future, especially next ones.
All plausible tomorrows, but maybe not.
Following week and afterward month.
The year that we will live.
You and me, brother.
Me and you, sister.
How wonderful it might be if the same words were enough to feel close.
Nevertheless, the narrative is still hungry for pages and I am confessing that another life was hidden inside the two kids.
It is useless to say which of the two, since both are equal.
In fact, you know what?
I will not say even what kind of life it is.
Female, male, or whatever.
Western, or rained from each of the infinite cardinal points. Yes, infinite, not four, because in the stories destinations are innumerable.
Black, but maybe not. And you may fill that ‘no’ with all colors will make you easier to watch.
Human, a word for everything.
The creature who lives in one of the two children, but it does not matter which one.
Hidden in the girl child who dreams.
To be the first one.
It is enough to say that somewhere there is life.
Even in a trolley...
Read other stories about racism.
Storytelling with subtitles
Also on Stories and News: