Wednesday, November 29, 2017

Exercises in Style Fake News on Nativity

Stories and News No. 1052

Christmas is coming.
No, that's not true, there’s still time.
Well, it doesn’t seem so, if you look shops and roads beautifully decorated for the greedy occasion.
Because let's face it, be brave.
Let true meanings, good intentions, sweet letters, and holy processions be blessed, but the usual festivity that prefaces to the conclusive fires of the thirty-one is above all that, here.
A big binge of food and gifts, wrapped in sparkling packaging, which often dazzle much more than the contents.
So, at the end of the fair - or the party, here we are back on the collective blunder that distracts and fools.
I’m talking about our daily dose of lies.
Well-made type, huh?

At this point two things must be put forward.
Fake news existed long before we started calling it so, and one of the reasons since this site was born nearly ten years ago was just to put them down, using the only weapon available to the undersigned, that is, storytelling.
The second thing, since the world is a news, despite the dishonesties of
ignorance profiteer so-called leaders, the real targets of digital falsehoods are always the same.
Title of the story: Nativity.
Synopsis: On the night of December 24, the carpenter Joseph and his wife Mary, finding no better place, give birth to a child in a stable, temporarily depositing the infant in a manger.
Given that, here are Exercise in Style of manipulating and manipulated articles.
Nazi Blog: Couple have got a baby on the street since feel-good hospitals give priority to immigrants.
Newspaper of centre orientation: a persecuted Christian family escapes from home and the woman is forced to give birth in the cold.
Centre-Right Newspaper disguised as just Centre: a persecuted Christian family escapes from home and the woman is forced to give birth in the cold. Then they ask for the same-sex marriage... which is not relevant at all, but let’s continue to insist, sooner or later the fetid drop will cross the citizen’s skull and the intolerant poison will spread.
Less Centre-More Right Newspaper: Husband and wife in extreme poverty give birth to their first son in a stable sharing space with animals to meet the environmental delusions of the rich leftist ecologists.
Right Newspaper: Woman have a baby from a migrant who forces her to give birth in the cold of a stable. He defends himself by accusing the holy spirit… then are we the liars?
Far-right Newspaper: An illegal family eludes the Herod Decree for a healthy check of clandestine children and give birth to another guy who’ll do nothing to integrate with our nation. We bet at least thirty pence that he will do miracles, at cost of his life, to change our civilization…
Facebook page owned by a shit-spreading website, part of a patriotic misinformation network, officially managed by a deceased old woman since thirteen years in favor of the unemployed grandson who now lives in France, but he gets the profits and her retirement pension: Traffic of minors in the stab. A very poor family give birth to a baby in a cold stable, and as soon as the news spreads through a sneaky bedbug disguised as an innocuous comet star, not just one, but three Islamic merchants come to buy the child with gold, incense and myrrh. Fortunately for our compatriots, two heroes were patrolling around that night, jokingly called in the township as Donkey and Ox.
Well, do you want to know what is the most absurd aspect of the situation we came to?
The last delirious version of the original plot returns to the circle, on the so-called authoritative media, paid by us with the best weapon they found to bribe the masses and their mind.
The underestimated mouse clicks


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Friday, November 24, 2017

Mother and son in the house where future is written

Stories and News No. 1051

Japanese politicians forced their colleague, Yuka Ogata, to leave Chamber as she sat with her seven-month-old son in order to highlight the difficulties encountered by parents in cases of serious shortage of facilities for infancy.
So, here’s the story…


 
Mother and son.
Let them share dreams and hopes.
In the house where the present grows.
Only men.
Lonely men.
Important men.
Imported men.
Deputies.
Disputed.
Supported without personality.
Supported personalities.
Supported leaders makers.
Supported leaders.
Fake leaders.
Bosses with too many bosses.
Popular bosses.
Bosses without people.
People without a seat.
Submitted and ruffians.
Honorably disapproved.
Disgusted with honor.
Dead senators.
Senators forever.
Counselors badly advised.
Sellers of advisers.
Advices buyers.
Undersecretaries.
Subdued friends.
Under everyone, but well paid.
Provident presidents.
Vicious vice presidents.
Shadow ministers.
Shadowed ministers.
Ministerial shadows.
False shooters.
False admirers.
Simply betrayers.
Turncoat.
Trackers.
Crazies.
Corrupted by the best bidder.
Corruptors of souls.
Soulless souls.
Bribe-takers.
Fixers.
Amendments dealers.
Lies dealers.
Slogans dealers.
Lonely men.
Only men.
In the house where future is written.

Now try to start from the end, reading backwards, like all the stories that tell the absurdities of our time...


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Thursday, November 23, 2017

What's wrong with us?

Stories and News No. 1050

A group of activists made a replica of the Holocaust memorial in Berlin, and then they secretly placed it on Björn Höcke's home, far-right AfD’s politician who says Germans should stop atoning for Nazi guilt

Dear victims,
Of yesterday, tomorrow, more than ever today.
I’m writing to you, who bear on your own skin the signs of the legalized infamy and shared on time as “the voice of the people”, then sold as “understandable anger”, and from the same, privileged position manipulated and synthesized, to be sold back to the same deceitful screamers, in the form of slogans and delusional government programs.

You've got the answer, since you have paid the price of such inhumanity with your life.
You know it, because you’ve been paying the bribe right now, at this precise moment, while those words are flowing on the page and maybe some eyes are reading.
Tell us, please.
What is wrong with us?
How do we are so terribly obtuse to repeat forever the usual, old mistake?
Here is the most ignored original sin, the real goods of evil that dwells in us all, always ready to reach the apex of greater danger in this mad walk.
That is, the moment when we convince ourselves of being released from it, in short, honestly, from us.
Yes, I'm talking about you and me.
It’s pointless trying to turn, looking for the invisible guilty behind.
We're on the mistaken road, you don’t have to swing around.
Everyone is on the table, no one should feel better.
We didn’t read carefully the maps written with wise mind by our ancestors.
Or, we are exclusively entrusted to a digital compass made by a schizophrenic multinational and manufactured by innocent hands.
Yet passed time is nothing.
A handful of years to hold in one hand.
Only the previous page of the great book.
A century, no more than a century and everything should be clear, without the need for graduates or doctorates.
Silenced genocides and endless wars, slavery in all forms and violence on the so-called weak and diverse creatures, old and new colonialisms.
It’s all there.
Stories, an incalculable amount of horror and love, friendship and heroism tales.
It's all here again.
Like a mountain to climb otherwise, where on the top you may still find the glorious flags, the cruelest and bravest actions, the names of the accountable ones and yours.
Dear victims, we ask for help.
What are we doing wrong?
It’s paradoxical, but maybe it’s the last chance we have.
You.
You know how the hell machine works at the exact time it operates.
Explain us how to stop it.
How to stop us.
To find the damned turn of that bloody junction, that is grotesquely leading us back…


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Wednesday, November 22, 2017

When heroes need us

Stories and News No. 1049

The announcement that the Trump Administration is considering to revoke the US ban on imports of elephant trophies from Zambia and Zimbabwe directly threatens the lives of African parks ranger, who are committed to protect animals and their ecosystems.

I have a Mom.
And I have a Dad too.
That would be so much.
Almost everything.
I have a Mom, a Dad, and if everything goes in the right direction, one day I will also have my powers.
No… what mutant? I'm always myself from day to night and that's fine.
To fly?
Maybe…
Maybe I could be like those cartons creatures, but here, in the real world, the weight is everything, without jokes.
You could design your ears as you wish and manipulate everything with those fraudsters machines you call computers, but at the end of the day, a jump is the maximum and I don’t complain.
Because I know that soon or later I’ll come back down, to them.

Nevertheless, I was talking about my fangs, what else?
Indeed, why so happy for such a normal life?
First, normal is not at all, but I’ll be back on that.
Secondly, the joy for the essentials is a duty for those as myself, lives who have got as many parents, as well as the putative ones: courage and dedication, are their names, mixed in a single life of woman and mother, the person I owe present and future.
That's why I'm here.
That's why I unexpectedly speak and write.
Because when we choose to violate the limits of nature, well, it’s better to do it for good, right?
I'm talking about her, Esnart Paundi, the brave ranger who was killed by the poachers seven years ago, leaving her children.
This is their normality, more unlucky than me,
undoubtedly, and without a hero in their life.
Because this is what makes a fearless one worthy of being celebrated in the years to come, isn’t it?
The uniqueness, in bringing to life five children at a time and a place that doesn’t offer easy perspectives on the horizon, and an absolute
abnegation, in choosing as a mission to protect us from the sellers and buyers of white painted, bloody illusions.
They say we have an extraordinary memory, a typical trait of our species.
Another power, then.
Maybe.
Yet, I believe people like Esnart tell us something with their own life that cannot be ignored.
You cannot let the History writing such a life as if it had happened in vain.
The heroes go and come, of course, in silence most of the time.
However, we are the ones who have the opportunity to make their power a gift rather than only a misfortune for the sons.
We owe them what we are and, more than anything, what makes humanity better.
So, don’t buy anymore jewelries by cruel death merchants.
Stop listening to them.
And voting for them.
It wouldn't be so bad as a start…


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Friday, November 17, 2017

Early departures

Stories and News No. 1048

I read that a Japanese rail company apologized to the passengers because their train started 20 seconds early.
The Operator was "deeply" sorry for the incident after the 9.44 and 40 seconds Tsukuba Express left the station at 9.44 and 20...


Well, we're like that train.
We left too early.
In spite of the lies that are accurately fitted with crafty craftsmanship,
the difference is that we have no company behind us, and not even an expert press office offering in our behalf public apologies with commendable solemnity.
So, we do take the opportunity, though visionary, to ask for it.
Forgive us, then.

Forgive us if we have given up the urge to cross waves and walls to earn a fragment of possible horizon.
Nevertheless, don’t be fooled.
We immediately realized that we found the wrong century.
Maybe planet too.
For sure, humanity.
But we’re not alone, here, on this page.
The number is powerful and the room necessarily vast.
Among us there are all the creatures by the misunderstood genre because of the scarcity of free pages in the dictionary and especially the heart.
Anachronistic loves, these are the real contrasting passions, which should be on those movies that gain so much audience and praise.
Sorry if we couldn’t wait for enough open minds and less devoted civilizations to the persecution of others' dreams.
Indeed, how can we avoid mentioning who among us came to the world with a perfect vision of the latter, too much to be accepted from the present time?
All right, the absolute absence of error is not a real instance.
This is what they say.
However, it might be with just one, single mistake, right?
That’s why we’re here.
The lives by the gaze that reform common convivence at the very first encounter with the outside.
They are already over the modern time in everything it’s old.
They see and touch the new shape, tightening it in a hand without fear, but they cannot prove it because they have not yet invented the words to say it.
Perfection missing something, that’s what we just said.
Almost faultless for that one, single mistake: having seen the light in advance.
Sorry, really, we did not want to make your life more difficult.
Quite the contrary.
But hurry up, please.
We look forward to seeing you coming where we’re waiting for you, over the conceivable calendar.
Since a long time…


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Thursday, November 16, 2017

Australia voted yes to marriage

Stories and News No. 1047

Listen, write it down, and listen again: Australia will legalize marriages.
Incredible, right?
What a day, guys.
This is terrific.
Something to remember, of course, but to mention, too.
In the evening convulsed between sterile arguments and silly chats shared around, among trivial thoughts and fear.
More than ever the latter, even if disguised from everything else.
You might ask: how did they live before?
Well, the question is reasonable, I’m aware of that.
You know? They did wrong, that’s the only answer.
For extended, they missed something extraordinary, unique, spectacular.
In short, normal.
Come on, let's say it together, indeed, let’s scream without any hesitation.
It’s simple common sense, letting people to get married.
How could you think of further insisting on the opposite way?
Two creatures meet, both touching each other with glances and thoughts for an indefinite time, attraction starts demanding attention, as much the impelling heart asks for not being ignored.
We cannot underestimate the most exploited among human feelings by titles and rhymes of romantic songs, as well as horoscopes and cuddly soaps.
Let’s exult and congratulate the winners for the happy finish, however late.
We look at Australia with affection, now.
They did it too.
They can finally dream and aspire to the classic ending of a double trip that becomes one on the common way.
Enough with hiding, despite being lighted by the same, ecumenical sunshine.
Enough with travels abroad looking for the literally promised land to exchange vows with all the rules.
Last but not least, enough with tender moment in portraits and video streaming, or in the cold deferred, sent to relatives and friends.
At least those who had not expressed the slightest blame.
But that could really be absurd, right?
Who could be against it?
In fact, in the banally-defined country of kangaroos, at least sixty-one percent of the respondents to the referendum sent by mail expressed their favor.
In any case, let's not lose ourselves in the mere calculations.
Joyfully join us to cheer the fateful triumph of lovers to enter the party.
Their homeland has become a fairer country.
That is an encouragement to the nations that are still settling on the minimum criteria of civilization.
All our compassion to them.
Meanwhile, we are all Australians, today.
Sincere congratulations for having legalized all marriages, period.
Do you think there is something wrong with all this story?
Think carefully.
Do you really believe there was a need to add the words gay or same-sex?





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Wednesday, November 15, 2017

My name is Troll

Stories and News No. 1046

I read that Researchers from Edinburgh University have identified 419 accounts among the 2,752 ones recently suspended by Twitter in the United States that, on behalf of the Russian Internet Research Agency (IRA), operated to influence British politics.
One of them aimed at provoking anti-Islamic sentiments in the hours after the Westminster Bridge terror attack in March, publishing among others a photo depicting a Muslim woman walking beside the victims, ignoring them with obvious indifference.
This image was then shared on many English newspapers, including Mail Online and Sun, as well as thousands social networks pages and lots of international websites ever looking for such pseudo scoop.
Now it emerges that the aforementioned picture was false, having been remodeled through a digital manipulation software...

My name is Troll.
By name and fact.
This is my job, this is the mission, this is the profit.
That's what you bought.
I'm here for you, ladies and gentlemen, that is, loyal users.
My duty is to give noises and paint of blood the horizon, to show the worst that can make you feel better.

So, play your role, don’t ask any questions.
Expand your eyes, explode them, make yourself one thing with them.
Don’t have any doubt, because then you will sleep as always.
Now, let's close the light in the room, the movie begins.
The scene is on the screen, remaining still, immobile as a life that doesn’t want anything more than ignorance.
Blessed are the latter, they say, but even more who sells it, you know?
Few seconds, just a handful and the final song is already on air.
Seen?
Small was the time, just as the thought will be.
One word, at most two, injected into what remains of the heart.
Or was the liver? Oops, my mistake..
Anyway, I never said I had a medicine degree, right?
Besides, I didn’t say anything.
Empty.
With empty skulls and the bellies already full from the very beginning, the sedate audience will abandon the hall.
This was my promise.
An emotion, at most two, to infect what remains of the body.
Or was the soul?
Well, I've never said I could discern it, is not that right?
To be honest, I don’t care about the differences at all.
I am just the one who put them, where they are not.
Because I'm a Troll.
By name and substance, what lies are made of.
I don't really exist.
Yet you have faith in me.
You blindly believe me on the word.
For me you go to war and fight.
You live and die in my name.
Like a god you invented.
To feel stronger, and in hatred and sadness, less alone...


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Friday, November 10, 2017

What are we afraid of?

Stories and News No. 1045

I see.
I see that the British edition of Grazia magazine has the opportunity to publish on the cover a close-up of the beautiful Mexican award-winning actress Lupita Nyong'o.
I also see that the editors feel the need to retouch the photo, according to the required or self-imposed fees, as always it depends on the personal degree of imprisonment.

At the same time, I see the brave actress openly rebelling against the wrongful manipulation, revealing it as yet another sling at the service of the Eurocentric popular picture.
I see more, soon after, by widening the look and the usual, disorganized imagination, which I will never fail to apologize of.
I see a room.
A room protected by aggressive guards and armed with threatening weapons.
In the middle, an old man.
A very aged one, with tired eyes, but still fixed on his own hand, that is, the claw clutching the consumed pencil which he passes with hellish repetition always on and on the same stretch of the governmental drawing.
Lines and contours, full shapes and the empty ones, more than ever the paper that suits all is so worn out to implore pity and craving peace along with the past painted horrors, bravely burned in the bad times gone by.
Nevertheless, the disturbing, yet reassuring canvas is still there, it resists with cruelty, despite the hourglass being losing the last grain of dullness.
I see, I see it, like all of us, the mad design.
The world we are experiencing, and at the same time unknowingly worship.
On one hand an earth divided between rich and rich, and on the other a future pursued by the only humanity left.
In the middle, the sovereign vignette, where white wedded white and black are confused with the latter, where everyone respects the destiny entrusted by the original geography and keeps the dress packed by the blind dressmaker with a very known name.
At the end of the day, we are always with her.
From the initial moments to the last song of this dishonest movie that now occupies every cinema on the planet.
I’m talking about fear, that is, how it works.
It’s a pair of glasses that take off dimensions instead of adding it.
Fear is the most dangerous terrorist of this century.
It forces us to live waiting for death from what is behind us, like the cave of the myth, sitting in good order to assist hypnotized at the performance of the aforementioned old guy.
Yet, I see.
I see a child getting up among the crowd by the schizophrenic look.
I see him overcoming the still lives, and after having shredded the erroneous representation with a mere breath, he points the brave finger, showing our unhealthy eyes the beauty of the dream that is already real…


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Thursday, November 9, 2017

We are angry

Stories and News No. 1044

We are angry, that’s what we scream until voice and heart will burn.
You have to listen, you have to watch us, otherwise, we don’t exist.
We’re angry with you, that’s what we cry with the neck veins ready to explode.
Angry with them.
With everybody.
We are angry with you because you brought migrants to us.
With their dreams.

With their aspirations.
With their unbearable hope for the future.
In short, we are angry, because you brought life next to us.
We are angry.
Because, if that's not enough, you dare to approach with your microphones, your cameras, your questions, your dreams, your aspirations, expecting to get answers.
Anger.
That's the reason.
This is the product, bought and resold, chewed and vomited.
That's what we are.
This is the role that someone has chosen for us.
No matter who, no matter how.
What we have donated is enough to get the worst off.
We’re angry, yes, that's what the hidden prompter murmurs from the rich attic.
Well, we’re not ashamed of it at all.
Because we don’t have the faintest idea where it comes from, such dull fury.
Whether it's somehow justified, or just digitally manufactured by virtual hate makers.
That’s the beauty of it.
Hit, hit hard, show blood to the public, and the latter will click and approve, enjoying with you.
This is written in the script entrusted to us, and this is the outcome of our grotesque performance.
So, the promise was kept: hate sells, period.
Do you understand why we blind sign our obvious condemnation to such an inhuman scenario?
Because our puppeteers, as far as they are smart exploiters of our manipulated fates, have kept the word.
How could you think to dissuade us, if you first don’t believe in the rainbow flag, carrying it around only the scheduled occasions?
Don’t you see that the moral question is a daily war?
Do you want to know the truth?
Certainly we are not geniuses and you mock us for that.
However, one thing we know for sure, since a long time: you are the ones who should be angry with us.
You should be overwhelmed by rage, before our iniquities.
You should be angry with yourself and your surroundings.
But, a second after, turning it into actions of identical intensity and able of such a virulent pacifism to make us trembling by fear…


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Wednesday, November 8, 2017

Twenty-six

Stories and News No. 1043

Twenty-six.
Yeah, weird, but that's my name.
A number.
Exactly, we are numbers.
Hurriedly written and thought, distractedly drawn, blindly invoked and sold, as well as consciously forgotten.
As if, with due care, from the previous to the next, the popular, international heartbeat makes a perpetual leap.
An interruption of clock.

The perfect alibi to move on and talk about something else, that’s unjust amounts and undue subtractions, remaining on the subject.
Indeed, on the task of human lives math.
So, in these days, it happens that twenty-six young Nigerian girls were found dead on a migrant ship in the Mediterranean Sea, and yet guilty inside the common sense.
Their is a minor death, after a superfluous existence for the still earth's inhabitants almost as much as their heart.
Twenty-six is mine and their name.
As many people killed in the massacre of the Baptist Church in Sutherland Springs, Texas, which was once again squeaked in a loud voice and then buried in the dusty archive with the nameplate: unmanageable attacks.
At the same time, twenty-six is the last killer’s age, not the terrorist, the mad man, not the enemy of our civilization, the poor soul, yes, no doubt about that.
Twenty-six I was born, what can I do?
That’s why I exist silently, to better light the useful figures.
Yet, rarely, it also happens to rejoice for good fortune.
Like the twenty-six wounded, but survived at the recent flood of a river in Colombia and the many survivors in the fire at a building of the Moncton University, Canada.
Despite that, even for the prime numbers to perish, the fortuitous exception confirms the sad rule.
It tells us of twenty-six ignored deaths in India for the explosion of a coal-fired power plant.
Damned coal.
Twenty-six, this is what I am.
Twenty plus six, name added to a last one, which could have been even longer, and then it would take much more than a story like this to count, remember, and do not forget.
Anyway, the numbers are erased in real time, in these exact hours.
Like the twenty-six killed from a Saudi raid in Yemen.
Let all the raids of this world be damned.
Twenty-six, that’s right, as the children who according to the United Nations disappear every day in Afghanistan because of a normal illness such as diarrhea.
Twenty-six.
This is the name of the lost story.
Write it with me.
Note it somewhere, the human events that lie behind the missed appeal, and forgive us, if we were absent from the count, but we are justified.
Because when the bell of History was played, they didn’t let us in…


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Friday, November 3, 2017

Ktunaxa vs British Columbia: The Grizzly Bear Revenge

Stories and News No. 1042

The highest court in Canada gave favorable opinion to the developers of a ski resort on the land considered sacred by the indigenous Ktunaxa community in British Columbia.
The project meets the Ktunaxa’s strenuous resistance because since hundreds of generations they believe the area called by Qat'muk as the place where the Grizzly Bear Spirit lives
.

Don’t say we didn’t warn you, and don’t even dare think you never heard of it.
It's an old story.
Look.
Look at what happened to those wretched people who risked to erect their lives on an indigenous cemetery.

All right, they were just movies.
At best, novels, in small, short tales.
But isn’t that how you remember us?
Isn’t this what you will remember forever?
Screaming and hating the candid invader, looking for scalps and new, easy enemies.
So, despite we might cover the so-called brave pioneer’s lies with layers of conquered truths with blood and tenacity, the damage has now been done.
The awkward extermination filed.
Nevertheless, we are here and here we will be.
The stubborn ghosts, here is the true title, as much correct, as politically ignored.
We, and all the sisters and brothers that our mother earth put on our side, along the path of return to her, again.
However, as the alleged rightful coloring of the winning shades, you will deceive yourself to submerge axes and memory under a temporary snow cover.
Which to play with lesser stories on, crushing heroes or simple extras, of the same value, for the world below.
Because in the realm of free men, each one is subjected to the life of the other.
I will hail yourself, rejoicing before the new triumph, lifting up the usual prize.
Slipping along the stolen side of time.
Nevertheless, at the very moment of the greatest violence of public interest, the spirit will become flesh, quite clumsy, and far from being satiated.
I don’t know if you realize how high a Grizzly is and above all how much it eats every day.
It will not have pity, you should know that.
It will shake and bend as much as the forgotten genocides in the centuries past.
It will not save anything.
Then, if thought that, though colossal, the belly of a bear will also have its own limit, remember that it is a cranky spirit.
That is, stubborn and even controversial ghost, just like we do.
Well, if you have manipulated the past forever, what does it prevent us from doing the same with
the future?
Being honest, unlikely dreams made the latter for us.
Exactly like this fragile threat, which has fragile basis.
Like most of the anecdotes narrated and sold on the imaginary enemies of the new world.
Despite this, we will continue to worship our spirits.
To live and die for them.
Because they are like the air that covers the world.
The one will not see tomorrow if you stop fighting for the other.


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Thursday, November 2, 2017

The girl who wanted to fly

Stories and News No. 1041

It turns out that in Geneva, Switzerland, a seven-year-old girl child runs away from her parents, then she goes undisturbed through airport security checks and boards on a flight without a ticket or passport.
Airport officials are still trying to figure out how it could happen.


The girl who wanted to fly, period.
This is the title of the inspector's report to reveal the mystery.
How could have been possible?
I’m talking about today, with all the aggravations of the case, which is not casual at all, since we are ever here to deal with it, then it means that everything will have a meaning that we must explain to our sponsors and lenders, there is the councilor and the minister who pushes on top and the one against all.

Indeed, we could add the usual terror in the travelling eyes, in the hands that control and reassure, the landings, the latter more than ever.
It’s like the soft-seated passengers favorite stories: they need a sweet ending, with final applause to the pilot/author.
Well, if all this wasn’t enough, this time the missing one is a little girl, your honor.
Yes, come on, let’s make a dummy and virtual process as well.
Nevertheless, aren’t we doing this every day?
Are we all here, willing or unhappy, to express easily readable judgments?
Well, if it's not your case, then follow me.
Follow her.
The girl who wanted, period.
She just wanted to understand, like all the naively, brilliant minds of this world.
Discovering the true mystery, not the surveys from above, which overwhelms everyone with dull simplicity.
That is, the adult misunderstanding that fails in memory and fantasy: everyone standing there, in a row, waiting and anxiously pushing for the place beside the glass, to finally see the whole world becoming small under our feet.
So, we dream to be star like envied stars, queen among the adorable queens, light as pure air between what is up there, even if for a fragment of time stolen to gravity.
At the same time, she doesn’t run.
She walks serenely, with natural calm, so perfect, yet not seen, despite the size being enough to fear, to nourish panic and distrust, is not that right?
A word to be screamed between an inevitable title and an image tearing eyes at the most point of the bulletin board, that’s enough for our belly to shake, or pretend it.
Because, at the end of the day, we all know that most of us attend this mad show from afar, sheltering the trusted armrests of the faithful chair.
In spite of that, we rapidly get high, as much to go down, where the obligatory thought requires.
By the way – that’s her good luck, the courageous soul by definition is free from it.
The girl, period.
Because, once she climbed aboard our illusion of metal and plastic, she comes back to her mother with a smile and a greater certainty in her heart.
I don’t need them, she thinks, I don’t need anyone.
To fly...


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