Stories and News No. 931
One hundred people are probably drowned, following the sinking of a boat off the coast of Libya, bringing the death toll to three hundred and forty in the Mediterranean this week.
Doctors Without Borders says that only twenty-seven have survived.
Twenty-seven stories, twenty-seven lives. Like a boat capsizing for twenty-seven times, but the journey continues...
One, the boat capsizes and everyone is still on board, because the wife’s magic glue worked.
Two, the boat capsizes, but also the world did, and then we are all safe, bar none.
Three, the boat capsizes and I wake up, we did not sail at all, because we never needed to do so.
Four, the boat capsizes and nets are full. We were just trying a new way of fishing, what did you think?
Five, the boat capsizes, then I am hiding and you
start counting to ten, twenty, indeed, twenty-seven, but did not find me, please, because it means that this time I really won.
Six, the boat capsizes and I'm not there, because I am one of you, one of those who has find home.
Seven, the boat capsizes and we breathe anyway, gilled, without logic and without oxygen, because we are only characters in a newspaper photo, why not taking advantage?
Eight, the boat capsizes and we are just a little wet, because the sea should not hurt as people, they say.
Nine, the boat capsizes, again, and again, it never stops, because it is a generous carousel, like the future I never had.
Ten, the boat capsizes and we arrived, because this ship does not sail, only slides on an irrepressible hopes’ carpet.
Eleven, the boat capsizes and become a country...
Then, twelve, the boat capsizes and becomes a city...
So thirteen, the boat capsizes and is transformed into a village of houses, but without the need for roads, with roads without sidewalks, of people who travel only by feet, who do not have a name and a flag to be protected, only something which it is worth living for.
Fourteen, the boat capsizes and flies, because if death is only the beginning, let alone a dip.
Fifteen, the boat capsizes and laughs, because that is the noise the wood makes when survives the storm.
Sixteen, the boat capsizes and anger shouts, because that is the song that soars from the sea when the storm wins.
Seventeen, the boat capsizes and closes over us like a giant, wise oyster, because we are pearls, we all are, but not everybody have enough big eyes in order to welcome the light.
Eighteen, the boat capsizes and I wake up, although it was not a nightmare and not a strange dream, because I stopped at last to remain in the dark.
Nineteen, the boat capsizes, clears his throat, begins to tell a story and we are all more relaxed, because it's just fiction, this.
Twenty, the boat capsizes now the dreadful game starts: who is hidden, forever?
Twenty-one, the boat capsizes and no winner rejoices, when the defeat of the others is always, repeat, always yours.
Twenty-two, the boat capsizes and do not believe it is enough, because we will try again, especially for those who will not be there tomorrow.
Twenty-three, the boat capsizes and I scream, looking for your eyes and stretching out my hands on you, whoever you are, on the surface.
Twenty-four, the boat capsizes and I do not know where I am, if I'm still here, on the road we write between the fickle waves, so that the next time the bad luck will not see us again.
Twenty-five, the boat capsizes and I know exactly where I am, because I'm still here, in the fragments of my last moments etched into dismay eyes of those who will remind me.
Twenty-six, the boat capsizes and full of joy and I hugs the first life near me. Why can’t you do the same? Why do we have to see the world upside down just to feel human?
Twenty-seven, the boat capsizes and everything stops except the sea, except us.
To the promised shore…
Read more stories of immigrants
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Watch my last storytelling show with English subtitles Walking with the shadow
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