Stories and News No. 850
I read that in order to protest against the evictions in Calais, a group of refugees sewed their lips together, exhibiting the signs with unequivocal messages.
I quote one among the others, demanding response from those who watch and read: where is our freedom?
Yes, where is it? Here it is, we just need to follow the thread...
I remember.
I try to remember how it all started.
Them. The very first I saw was them.
Mine.
I loved them. They have loved me too, maybe in their own way.
I want to believe that. I have to.
Then something broke. First an explosion, then a scream and after a suffering.
Therefore the plural killed the exception and the others came: explosions, screams and sufferings.
That was the time I began to hate them. The very first that I saw.
Mine.
So one hope has given me the strength to endure and resist.
To survive.
Believing that they were not the only ones in the world.
I wanted to believe it. I had to.
So I was saved for the first time.
Then I started to live waiting for the moment when the light of normality would have filled the gaps of my heart.
I trained strenuously to hide the wounds, fearing to hurt other people's vulnerability.
I have perfectly prepared my saying as the moving, wishing to mingle among the many.
And I did my best to draw a smile as clear as possible on the box which I buried the monsters of the past in, not to scare the fragility of my new friends.
When the time has come, when my courage had become finally adult, I opened the door and I followed dreams and hopes crumbs along the way. That is, the thread that once bound me to the homeland and reassembled inevitably led me out.
Away.
To you.
I'm here now.
Finally I arrived on the only possible shore.
So I saved myself for the second time.
Dowry I have nothing but myself and the reasons that have led me here.
Make of it what you want. Tie the thread to yours or break it in a thousand pieces. Because the day when I will find out if you and them are different or the same, I will still be free, that is saved for the third and last time.
The opportunity is all yours, now.
To tie your present to ours and save you.
With us…
Read more Immigrants stories
Buy my latest book The hoax of the migrants
Listen my song Wolves
Storytelling videos with subtitles
More on Stories and News:
I read that in order to protest against the evictions in Calais, a group of refugees sewed their lips together, exhibiting the signs with unequivocal messages.
I quote one among the others, demanding response from those who watch and read: where is our freedom?
Yes, where is it? Here it is, we just need to follow the thread...
I remember.I try to remember how it all started.
Them. The very first I saw was them.
Mine.
I loved them. They have loved me too, maybe in their own way.
I want to believe that. I have to.
Then something broke. First an explosion, then a scream and after a suffering.
Therefore the plural killed the exception and the others came: explosions, screams and sufferings.
That was the time I began to hate them. The very first that I saw.
Mine.
So one hope has given me the strength to endure and resist.
To survive.
Believing that they were not the only ones in the world.
I wanted to believe it. I had to.
So I was saved for the first time.
Then I started to live waiting for the moment when the light of normality would have filled the gaps of my heart.
I trained strenuously to hide the wounds, fearing to hurt other people's vulnerability.
I have perfectly prepared my saying as the moving, wishing to mingle among the many.
And I did my best to draw a smile as clear as possible on the box which I buried the monsters of the past in, not to scare the fragility of my new friends.
When the time has come, when my courage had become finally adult, I opened the door and I followed dreams and hopes crumbs along the way. That is, the thread that once bound me to the homeland and reassembled inevitably led me out.
Away.
To you.
I'm here now.
Finally I arrived on the only possible shore.
So I saved myself for the second time.
Dowry I have nothing but myself and the reasons that have led me here.
Make of it what you want. Tie the thread to yours or break it in a thousand pieces. Because the day when I will find out if you and them are different or the same, I will still be free, that is saved for the third and last time.
The opportunity is all yours, now.
To tie your present to ours and save you.
With us…
Read more Immigrants stories
Buy my latest book The hoax of the migrants
Listen my song Wolves
Storytelling videos with subtitles
More on Stories and News: