Ross Kemp On Gangs In Jamaica Final Song

in the courtyard during the intermission of the four assigned to my students, I thought about what he had just finished saying and reflect on the effort that you learn. Fatigue is a beautiful, fruitful, one of the few worth living. understand is to open a breach in the wall, open a window, peering over.
think they will do well at the end of the words spoken and written. many, many will be forgotten, others will be held in the form of notes, notes that Ingall will end up in some attic. other, even worse, become our crumpled leit-motiv, our (and increasingly obsolete inadequate) polar stars
books will be sold to buy new ones, only a few will be preserved. the faces of the prof, mentors, or a little more will end up caught in the memory.
and big ideas will be bartered for a mediocre job, a paycheck that will shake their wings and never allow you to fly above the filth of the world. Why this need the money: to escape the vulgarity, embrace oblivion, forget the fatigue.
what I say is right? has a value of what I send? is right or wrong? who knows ..
not even know me, I think is right.
values \u200b\u200bthat are rooted in my feeling of freedom, the idea of \u200b\u200bfreedom. that which compares with the limit, which moves an inch a day in the line of our horizons.
not know if it's just because they do not even know if it makes sense.
more I get, the more I think it makes sense to have those few actions and thoughts that are scrambling to find a way, that have encysted, that just claim.
'll never have the courage to say. "Look, I do not know whether it is right, because maybe what I am saying does not make sense. We who attribute it, and never vice versa."
make love makes sense, yes. but not for the act itself, but for the small and unexpected good fortune that brings Supplementary. the pleasure is short, just enough not to think about life but to live it.
also drink, eat, wash, sit in the sun, read a good book are "good thing", except that while you think.
always even when you think it would be better to suspend the thought, you think about thinking, it is thought in mind and not outside. is thought to exhaustion, you think how to say, when to say it, say why.
is like the hum of our refrigerator never ends. perhaps best serve to keep the mud and diamonds placed in our souls?
do not know, just do not know. I would gloss
from Socrates: I know not only do not know, but I also know that all the knowledge that I do not ever turn off a star, nor move a grain of sand.