I rescue an old story of the workshop. The theme was this magnificent picture David Ruiz (if you want to see their great collection, go HERE ) , entitled "Goodbye, Europe, Goodbye."
copyright: David Ruiz
FERRY MAN
The ferry man sees the earth away and think about the horizon left behind. Clouds cover the banks knows already lost. The cloudy water is stirred, the foam is leading the way in reverse, has already gone, and back. And now it has returned for good.
The man that looks sea feel the wind in his face and thought regret vivo. I wish I had the courage to jump into the water. It is known only in a ghost ship but still a coward.
man traveling without company returns to a place that was driven in anger, he swore never to return. The word is turned against him and he changed the continent. That dictate escaped death and earned a living in the wrong world. He said: "freedom" and he opened the doors. Universities, major publications, television, parliaments, international forums. He spoke of peace and within just a thought: "war." The
ferryman does not want to be recognized. Many know his name, some his face. But now no one dares to point out. Anonymous returns to the valley of tears, where they gave birth to their misfortune and happiness more fierce, which knows no setbacks or religions, clearly manifested and fullness, to where he met Amina, the land on which begat Fatima. They returned three or four times a year. For that she will not forget where it came from. To seal affections cling roots. For this landscape remained in his eyes. Not to forget their own language, the language of their parents. Lest you grow to hate a people who had been unfair to blame the blind fanatic few.
man in exile was proud, never wanted to return. Camouflaged it with dignity, and the civilized world applauded him, but maybe it was just fear.
Now return is cowardice. It is not brave who becomes a victim, a man over. It is not brave he is back with a pass to bury his wife and daughter, to scatter his ashes in the garden of the family home.
The lone man begins to feel cold and damp morning knows that the bones will not let up but it will not move from the rail. Being a survivor is his punishment. He wanted to escape death and she left him alive to laugh in his face to force him to go to recognize the corpses that crowded, makeshift morgue. To fall back on it full weight of the haters who have no nationality wherever they come because their nature is not human. He escaped death and found him in Madrid, brought bodies.
The man who won back an old feeling knows that will not be long before they erased their faces, their voices. March 11 each will see their names a part of that damn list and you will not forget, but sometimes try to remember and can not. Although some do not know how to do without breaking.
begins to get dark and the ferry man thinks he sees some light at the foot of the mountain while still looking to Spain, to Europe, which are just as a faint line heaving sea beyond the strait.
The man that looks sea feel the wind in his face and thought regret vivo. I wish I had the courage to jump into the water. It is known only in a ghost ship but still a coward.
man traveling without company returns to a place that was driven in anger, he swore never to return. The word is turned against him and he changed the continent. That dictate escaped death and earned a living in the wrong world. He said: "freedom" and he opened the doors. Universities, major publications, television, parliaments, international forums. He spoke of peace and within just a thought: "war." The
ferryman does not want to be recognized. Many know his name, some his face. But now no one dares to point out. Anonymous returns to the valley of tears, where they gave birth to their misfortune and happiness more fierce, which knows no setbacks or religions, clearly manifested and fullness, to where he met Amina, the land on which begat Fatima. They returned three or four times a year. For that she will not forget where it came from. To seal affections cling roots. For this landscape remained in his eyes. Not to forget their own language, the language of their parents. Lest you grow to hate a people who had been unfair to blame the blind fanatic few.
man in exile was proud, never wanted to return. Camouflaged it with dignity, and the civilized world applauded him, but maybe it was just fear.
Now return is cowardice. It is not brave who becomes a victim, a man over. It is not brave he is back with a pass to bury his wife and daughter, to scatter his ashes in the garden of the family home.
The lone man begins to feel cold and damp morning knows that the bones will not let up but it will not move from the rail. Being a survivor is his punishment. He wanted to escape death and she left him alive to laugh in his face to force him to go to recognize the corpses that crowded, makeshift morgue. To fall back on it full weight of the haters who have no nationality wherever they come because their nature is not human. He escaped death and found him in Madrid, brought bodies.
The man who won back an old feeling knows that will not be long before they erased their faces, their voices. March 11 each will see their names a part of that damn list and you will not forget, but sometimes try to remember and can not. Although some do not know how to do without breaking.
begins to get dark and the ferry man thinks he sees some light at the foot of the mountain while still looking to Spain, to Europe, which are just as a faint line heaving sea beyond the strait.
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