Stories and News No. 803
As the rest of the world, also in Italy there are political parties that promote guns vs migrants, just looking for support from weapons manufacturing companies…
Once upon a time there was a land.
A land like many, but only one too.
You know what I mean.
The land as many, but only one too, you know what I mean, was said the reign of sun.
Because there was always the sun?
No, since even lefties platypuses know that there is no place where there is always sun, except the sun itself.
And if even lefties platypus know that, indescribably dumb animals, well, you draw your own conclusions.
The land as many, but only one too, etcetera, was said the reign of sun because there was a sun, that's all.
In the sky, at least once a day, not every day.
Often.
Then the night came and all started to doubt the light.
As if the sun really died at sunset, instead of playing hide and seek with the moon.
Nevertheless, in the reign of sun people was more likely to sanctify mourning rather than delight.
So, one day they arrived.
Them.
In large numbers, inexorably invading the lives of the inhabitants.
“But why do they not stay at home?” One of the many yelled, the one who could shout more ardently. “Why these damn drops don’t go back up there?”
Yes, the terrible tragedy was the rain.
Clandestine pieces of water, migrant tears from the earth to the clouds and return, refugee waves with the absurd claim to do something more.
Than dying on the shore.
The screaming guy realized he would not get better opportunity to make the meanest of miracles: to transform cowardice into hard cash, to seek a listing for fear, to gnaw the last remnants of humanity to the bone reaching the vermilion gold.
Red with the blood of the expendable creatures in this world.
"Rain is the enemy," he exclaimed barking, pretending to improvise a well prepared script. "The falling drops want to exterminate us, sweeping our history and erasing our traditions. We must defend ourselves from the rain because the reign of sun is ours."
"How?" the most attracted to the barker asked.
At that moment, with properly calculated timing, the cunning charlatan made a masterful coup de théâtre.
"With this", he said showing the audience the mysterious object.
For the record, an umbrella.
From that day the sales of the latter skyrocketed and the usual division took place.
Security for the gullible people, wealth for some and power to one.
The unscrupulous newsboy with business talent.
Once upon a time there was a land.
A land like any other, but also only one.
You know very well what I mean.
The land like many others, but even only one, you know well what I mean, was said the reign of sun.
Because there was always the sun?
No, because there is no place in the world where there is only sun but the sun itself.
But one thing is clear.
Wherever life may continue it will always be essential.
That sooner or later.
The rain arrives...
Read other stories of immigrants
Storytelling videos with subtitles
Also on Stories and News:
As the rest of the world, also in Italy there are political parties that promote guns vs migrants, just looking for support from weapons manufacturing companies…
Once upon a time there was a land.
A land like many, but only one too.
You know what I mean.
The land as many, but only one too, you know what I mean, was said the reign of sun.
Because there was always the sun?
No, since even lefties platypuses know that there is no place where there is always sun, except the sun itself.
And if even lefties platypus know that, indescribably dumb animals, well, you draw your own conclusions.
The land as many, but only one too, etcetera, was said the reign of sun because there was a sun, that's all.
In the sky, at least once a day, not every day.
Often.
Then the night came and all started to doubt the light.
As if the sun really died at sunset, instead of playing hide and seek with the moon.
Nevertheless, in the reign of sun people was more likely to sanctify mourning rather than delight.
So, one day they arrived.
Them.
In large numbers, inexorably invading the lives of the inhabitants.
“But why do they not stay at home?” One of the many yelled, the one who could shout more ardently. “Why these damn drops don’t go back up there?”
Yes, the terrible tragedy was the rain.
Clandestine pieces of water, migrant tears from the earth to the clouds and return, refugee waves with the absurd claim to do something more.
Than dying on the shore.
The screaming guy realized he would not get better opportunity to make the meanest of miracles: to transform cowardice into hard cash, to seek a listing for fear, to gnaw the last remnants of humanity to the bone reaching the vermilion gold.
Red with the blood of the expendable creatures in this world.
"Rain is the enemy," he exclaimed barking, pretending to improvise a well prepared script. "The falling drops want to exterminate us, sweeping our history and erasing our traditions. We must defend ourselves from the rain because the reign of sun is ours."
"How?" the most attracted to the barker asked.
At that moment, with properly calculated timing, the cunning charlatan made a masterful coup de théâtre.
"With this", he said showing the audience the mysterious object.
For the record, an umbrella.
From that day the sales of the latter skyrocketed and the usual division took place.
Security for the gullible people, wealth for some and power to one.
The unscrupulous newsboy with business talent.
Once upon a time there was a land.
A land like any other, but also only one.
You know very well what I mean.
The land like many others, but even only one, you know well what I mean, was said the reign of sun.
Because there was always the sun?
No, because there is no place in the world where there is only sun but the sun itself.
But one thing is clear.
Wherever life may continue it will always be essential.
That sooner or later.
The rain arrives...
Read other stories of immigrants
Storytelling videos with subtitles
Also on Stories and News: