bitter reflections on the boys in procession
Yesterday morning he marched under my window a myriad of children: a student demonstration against the Gelmini reform. At a guess, they seemed under the age of the university, maybe they were freshmen. Or
were high school students who have found a good excuse to skip a day of school.
Would not it be funny: I remember very well that even the 'my time' (that is little more than two decades ago), all was good reason to avoid questions and tedious hours.
who decided to remain in class, he risked big: maybe it was was questioned a week ago, but the lack of ninety percent of his companions could have led to recall the professor to the chair. And if the pupil - as often happened - he allowed himself a break from revision, relying on one-month average wait between a query and the other, was often not ready for an encore so close. (more. ..)
So when news came of a possible event in a few resisted the lure of the forest, that is the way: as a rule, some nerd ever prepared, regardless of the danger and daring sparse. Among them, myself. Not that I did not fear an unexpected story of four or philosophy, but the alternative I trooped to repel even then.
I could never bear the idea that the identity of my thoughts was crushed by the slogans of the mob, and soul that gave the tone to the student marches. In addition, it must be said that even then, not yet eighteen, was a fine reactionary, and the possibility that my ideals were in some way reflected in the plethora of kids naturally refractory to all forms of reflection on realpolitik, was unlikely. Demonstrations against the war and stuff, and certainly - if in those years there has been some serious attempt to reform school - even against that. Most
of them, say ninety-nine percent did not know or have never heard about what those parades clamoring for, but not stingy with the own voice, to articulate the need to loudly slogans Acconci.
Nothing new under the sun, then. Well, almost. Instead, what
known today with amazement, the kids in recent years I have often slide under the window (next to me is the prefecture, the final stage of almost all the events), is worrying their ugliness.
'm not talking about physical qualities, of course. Most likely it is boys and girls much more attractive to us as we were. I am referring to the ugliness
deeper, cosmic, assaulting and permeates an indistinct mass of people when they give up entirely of its independence of thought.
It seems to me that, today, this release - even though it was always the basis for any public display - is even stronger and more paradoxical when seen in conjunction with the best chance of understanding that technology makes available to boys, compared their counterparts of twenty years ago (thanks to the internet, in fact, even a teenager can compare with each other a great deal of information to the contrary, trace their sources and well-considered opinion to be formed more easily exploitable. But case). Their
abbruttimento (that is, their abysmal away by the attempt of an individual path of truth), it's scary and it manifests itself, even before the faces gray and monotonous in their dress.
are clones of what they see on television. Everyone wearing jeans, blacks or blue. Trainers teenage basketball player from Harlem. Then dark sweaters or sweatshirts, sloppy, with large caps that keep some of them stuck on his head and, along with sunglasses and scarves that wrap their mouths, often make them unrecognizable, as if they were - it was they who no seventeen years - already full of distrust and animosity toward the police accompanying them, and as if that invisible become visibly manifest charisma leader than the other fellow travelers face uncovered.
The jackets are all the same, tasteless and dark tones. And the only touch of color is the red flags that reproduce (again and again) Che Guevara.
These kids form a long snake mobile, and indistinct gray uniform sadly, that is expressed only with a few phrases in a loud voice yelling in unison: a menacing tone that breaks the silence with a silence even more disturbing, that of reason.
is why, when I look out the window, I look at them and think about those who say that "the world is young, we must leave room for the young, a bit '- only a little - I care.
were high school students who have found a good excuse to skip a day of school.
Would not it be funny: I remember very well that even the 'my time' (that is little more than two decades ago), all was good reason to avoid questions and tedious hours.
who decided to remain in class, he risked big: maybe it was was questioned a week ago, but the lack of ninety percent of his companions could have led to recall the professor to the chair. And if the pupil - as often happened - he allowed himself a break from revision, relying on one-month average wait between a query and the other, was often not ready for an encore so close. (more. ..)
So when news came of a possible event in a few resisted the lure of the forest, that is the way: as a rule, some nerd ever prepared, regardless of the danger and daring sparse. Among them, myself. Not that I did not fear an unexpected story of four or philosophy, but the alternative I trooped to repel even then.
I could never bear the idea that the identity of my thoughts was crushed by the slogans of the mob, and soul that gave the tone to the student marches. In addition, it must be said that even then, not yet eighteen, was a fine reactionary, and the possibility that my ideals were in some way reflected in the plethora of kids naturally refractory to all forms of reflection on realpolitik, was unlikely. Demonstrations against the war and stuff, and certainly - if in those years there has been some serious attempt to reform school - even against that. Most
of them, say ninety-nine percent did not know or have never heard about what those parades clamoring for, but not stingy with the own voice, to articulate the need to loudly slogans Acconci.
Nothing new under the sun, then. Well, almost. Instead, what
known today with amazement, the kids in recent years I have often slide under the window (next to me is the prefecture, the final stage of almost all the events), is worrying their ugliness.
'm not talking about physical qualities, of course. Most likely it is boys and girls much more attractive to us as we were. I am referring to the ugliness
deeper, cosmic, assaulting and permeates an indistinct mass of people when they give up entirely of its independence of thought.
It seems to me that, today, this release - even though it was always the basis for any public display - is even stronger and more paradoxical when seen in conjunction with the best chance of understanding that technology makes available to boys, compared their counterparts of twenty years ago (thanks to the internet, in fact, even a teenager can compare with each other a great deal of information to the contrary, trace their sources and well-considered opinion to be formed more easily exploitable. But case). Their
abbruttimento (that is, their abysmal away by the attempt of an individual path of truth), it's scary and it manifests itself, even before the faces gray and monotonous in their dress.
are clones of what they see on television. Everyone wearing jeans, blacks or blue. Trainers teenage basketball player from Harlem. Then dark sweaters or sweatshirts, sloppy, with large caps that keep some of them stuck on his head and, along with sunglasses and scarves that wrap their mouths, often make them unrecognizable, as if they were - it was they who no seventeen years - already full of distrust and animosity toward the police accompanying them, and as if that invisible become visibly manifest charisma leader than the other fellow travelers face uncovered.
The jackets are all the same, tasteless and dark tones. And the only touch of color is the red flags that reproduce (again and again) Che Guevara.
These kids form a long snake mobile, and indistinct gray uniform sadly, that is expressed only with a few phrases in a loud voice yelling in unison: a menacing tone that breaks the silence with a silence even more disturbing, that of reason.
is why, when I look out the window, I look at them and think about those who say that "the world is young, we must leave room for the young, a bit '- only a little - I care.
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