Stories and News No. 801
In according to a recent update, the investigation contradicts what told by a retiree landlord who murdered in Italy a young man with a shot straight to the heart. Not in the bedroom, as the murderer stated, but when the victim was on the stairs outside the apartment.
So the thief died even before committing break-in, theft and so on, even before being definable a thief.
Nevertheless, many citizens of killer’s town, in the province of Milan, marched under his balcony screaming together: you are one of us…
Once upon a time there was a game.
No, it is a movie.
Indeed, sorry, it is a dance.
Pardon the mess, really, that is not my fault.
The story is chaotic.
As a road that leads everywhere, bounded with dangerous approximation.
Where those who have good glasses are traveling in the middle.
And all the others just breathe.
Until falling down.
Outside the envied edges of the way.
Of life.
But we, who are we, in the fuss of lives that contradict each other?
That is a game?
Then we are the audience, of course, rejoicing for the feat of our star.
And railing on the opponent guilty of the worst sin.
To be himself.
The adversary.
We are the same audience who waited hours to reach the bleachers.
We paid a lot for this.
That is why we are not willing to accept defeats.
Especially for negligible trifles as an equitable distribution of human victories, for example.
That is a movie?
So we are ever the audience, but also the producers of the film burning on the big screen.
Because we want...
We are screenwriters, so that the good guy might recite exactly what we dreamed in the most troubled nights.
Slaying the grim bad villain.
Because we want our...
We are the story which the film is based on, honoring the real hierarchies, among those who deserve the lights and who not.
Because we want our name on the credits.
Maybe that is a dance?
Then we are spectators, again, yes, but more than ever we are the one and only choreographer who is pulling the wires.
The oscillating movement on each corner in the heart.
With all the available space in the world, because it is an empty hall at the mercy of the highest bidder.
Once upon a time there was a dance, then.
No, that is a game.
Indeed, forgive me, it is a movie.
Excuse the mess, really, it is not my fault.
Or maybe yes.
But it is the story that is confused.
When one of us... kills one of us.
Read other stories about human rights
Storytelling videos with subtitles
Also on Stories and News:
In according to a recent update, the investigation contradicts what told by a retiree landlord who murdered in Italy a young man with a shot straight to the heart. Not in the bedroom, as the murderer stated, but when the victim was on the stairs outside the apartment.
So the thief died even before committing break-in, theft and so on, even before being definable a thief.
Nevertheless, many citizens of killer’s town, in the province of Milan, marched under his balcony screaming together: you are one of us…
Once upon a time there was a game.
No, it is a movie.
Indeed, sorry, it is a dance.
Pardon the mess, really, that is not my fault.
The story is chaotic.
As a road that leads everywhere, bounded with dangerous approximation.
Where those who have good glasses are traveling in the middle.
And all the others just breathe.
Until falling down.
Outside the envied edges of the way.
Of life.
But we, who are we, in the fuss of lives that contradict each other?
That is a game?
Then we are the audience, of course, rejoicing for the feat of our star.
And railing on the opponent guilty of the worst sin.
To be himself.
The adversary.
We are the same audience who waited hours to reach the bleachers.
We paid a lot for this.
That is why we are not willing to accept defeats.
Especially for negligible trifles as an equitable distribution of human victories, for example.
That is a movie?
So we are ever the audience, but also the producers of the film burning on the big screen.
Because we want...
We are screenwriters, so that the good guy might recite exactly what we dreamed in the most troubled nights.
Slaying the grim bad villain.
Because we want our...
We are the story which the film is based on, honoring the real hierarchies, among those who deserve the lights and who not.
Because we want our name on the credits.
Maybe that is a dance?
Then we are spectators, again, yes, but more than ever we are the one and only choreographer who is pulling the wires.
The oscillating movement on each corner in the heart.
With all the available space in the world, because it is an empty hall at the mercy of the highest bidder.
Once upon a time there was a dance, then.
No, that is a game.
Indeed, forgive me, it is a movie.
Excuse the mess, really, it is not my fault.
Or maybe yes.
But it is the story that is confused.
When one of us... kills one of us.
Read other stories about human rights
Storytelling videos with subtitles
Also on Stories and News: