She had been reading for two hours some tales, where she had been sitting on the floor. All of the stories was about the Irish's summer and their fairy lives in the differents places of the country.
Step by step, she had been feeling that the floor was moving around the empty room that she had been looking for three days. Now, her body described all those places, the friendly squares where people could talk about drinkers who had decided life near a pint or a young who loves so much the wonderful writer that now, every day, he explained that hard book; he opened the door where different crowd felt the magician World who were alive after ninety years. It was so profoundly beautiful those moments that a foreigner man had always secretly decided to be their different performances, he didn't like only read the book; he needed to understand every clue, he knew every character was the life which he had tried to discover and it had slipped through his fingers.
Some days, that young king of details was closed to discover some hidden words, then this unknown man also hide himself near the steep cliffs of the coast of Connemara; then he felt so little he dreamed of the arrival of that distant reader that had been feeling the same sounds, the waves that hit granitic days of angry drums rhythms or days of calm but playful dreams rocked. There, they would dance new lives where Connemara would be their own "Fields of Athenry"
Who will travel in the same way when they will be taking money from a space that is not theirs as they offer exclusivity?
The small freebird travels with us, where those vast green spaces were the same vast green feelings of teachers that dreamed for a Public School quality and equity.
.
The
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario