(photo by Garima) The Employee
I spent the first part of my life (I would say most of the first part) according to one universal principle: Honesty of his own conscience. This value
I learned on the street, as they advance in the paths of what is usually call life. I've always had a low profile, while passing through the events of '68, while noting the advent of emancipation, while contributing to the new age movement, my profile has always been low, the profile of someone trying to figure out why, and maybe find some small remedy, for sighting a common goal.
I also passed the era of flower children, the era of rock and large gatherings hippyes with the hope of a better world, a world which respects, a green world, a better world for future genaro.
I crossed the days of long hair, flowing beards, and early ascetic movements which appeared just then on the west coast.
say that I went through the era of dreams, of hope when everything seemed possible and feasible. The age in which all of us were saying: we will get there.
decades have passed, and I still like to say, in a wasteland.
Wind and rain lash the dry earth, gray skies and around incumbent on the soul. None
within sight, and only exoskeletons of humanity hidden by the stinging drops.
I turn around, stretch your view, but I can not see anything, I can not find anything, all I feel is an absolute vacuum. I find myself after a few decades to live my life in a world not mine, not with my habits, and decisions do not hate me. I find myself not fight wars mine, I find myself accepting my programs not to buy goods which are not mine, I find myself not breathing my air.
I stop a moment and wonder where all those dreams and all those friends who, like myself dreaming the same things. Where am I?
Where are those huge masses of young people singing in unison and hoped a more in size?
Yet if I look good and looking good, I am conscious that the same ghosts of divorced men who are seated at the controls are nothing but those same friends who have shared music with me and dreams. But what have they done?
What they did in their lives and what they are are bent?
They sold into slavery and sexual impetuosity of thugs are gifted open. Power, money and convenience. Money and convenience
who bought the soul and sex in the name of social progress and technology that has enslaved the world and naked. Son
the same people who were in the flat of concert hours to dictate the laws and rules in order to starve the many, many put into slavery. Stealing the glimmer of a smile to say: I am - indeed - I am.
great entrepreneurs and financiers in command of ships and pleasure themselves to sink to switch to lead other ships. As in a big game of monopoly where we are the pawns and the money are rustling of a few, very few.
I look around and see no one, as in the plain of Matrix, minds and consciences asleep at the chloroform TV and media information poisonous toxin. Exoskeletons of humanity, who have even forgotten what the being themselves.
be yourself for once, out of respect for pride in one's life, toward his destiny ruined by other minds, other arms, other stomachs. Fate of crowds decided to table for the hell of monopolies, with confidence that whatever happens the few succeed.
And now that "we'll make it" the many, honest, clean, honest, has become the "I'll make it" a very, very few powerful enclosed in luxurious houses and cars obscured so as not to see their smiling face in front of 'army of depressed.
We have also stolen our that "there we will do it. "
The most 'Grand Theft universal, brutal and evil. The theft of the hopes of the honest and the right to have a better life.
I look around and still the wind and rain lash the wilderness. Not even a glimmer of hope remains in me, and that "we'll make it" remains only a memory of light of a candle that does not even need to warm a heart off.
We have stolen anything, even the thought, the joy and freedom of thought, since that we do not have the strength to think with our heads and decided in our heads.
doing something right because we believe regardless of what anyone else thinks.
do because we think it right for us and for our thinking.
also why we have stolen, the ability to present themselves as thinking beings. Avendoci required to comply with the mass and the common thought that because it is common ... and then induced
not sincere.
The life of the employee. From employee to employee lived and died without ever having the strength to say: I am - indeed - it's me!
I learned on the street, as they advance in the paths of what is usually call life. I've always had a low profile, while passing through the events of '68, while noting the advent of emancipation, while contributing to the new age movement, my profile has always been low, the profile of someone trying to figure out why, and maybe find some small remedy, for sighting a common goal.
I also passed the era of flower children, the era of rock and large gatherings hippyes with the hope of a better world, a world which respects, a green world, a better world for future genaro.
I crossed the days of long hair, flowing beards, and early ascetic movements which appeared just then on the west coast.
say that I went through the era of dreams, of hope when everything seemed possible and feasible. The age in which all of us were saying: we will get there.
decades have passed, and I still like to say, in a wasteland.
Wind and rain lash the dry earth, gray skies and around incumbent on the soul. None
within sight, and only exoskeletons of humanity hidden by the stinging drops.
I turn around, stretch your view, but I can not see anything, I can not find anything, all I feel is an absolute vacuum. I find myself after a few decades to live my life in a world not mine, not with my habits, and decisions do not hate me. I find myself not fight wars mine, I find myself accepting my programs not to buy goods which are not mine, I find myself not breathing my air.
I stop a moment and wonder where all those dreams and all those friends who, like myself dreaming the same things. Where am I?
Where are those huge masses of young people singing in unison and hoped a more in size?
Yet if I look good and looking good, I am conscious that the same ghosts of divorced men who are seated at the controls are nothing but those same friends who have shared music with me and dreams. But what have they done?
What they did in their lives and what they are are bent?
They sold into slavery and sexual impetuosity of thugs are gifted open. Power, money and convenience. Money and convenience
who bought the soul and sex in the name of social progress and technology that has enslaved the world and naked. Son
the same people who were in the flat of concert hours to dictate the laws and rules in order to starve the many, many put into slavery. Stealing the glimmer of a smile to say: I am - indeed - I am.
great entrepreneurs and financiers in command of ships and pleasure themselves to sink to switch to lead other ships. As in a big game of monopoly where we are the pawns and the money are rustling of a few, very few.
I look around and see no one, as in the plain of Matrix, minds and consciences asleep at the chloroform TV and media information poisonous toxin. Exoskeletons of humanity, who have even forgotten what the being themselves.
be yourself for once, out of respect for pride in one's life, toward his destiny ruined by other minds, other arms, other stomachs. Fate of crowds decided to table for the hell of monopolies, with confidence that whatever happens the few succeed.
And now that "we'll make it" the many, honest, clean, honest, has become the "I'll make it" a very, very few powerful enclosed in luxurious houses and cars obscured so as not to see their smiling face in front of 'army of depressed.
We have also stolen our that "there we will do it. "
The most 'Grand Theft universal, brutal and evil. The theft of the hopes of the honest and the right to have a better life.
I look around and still the wind and rain lash the wilderness. Not even a glimmer of hope remains in me, and that "we'll make it" remains only a memory of light of a candle that does not even need to warm a heart off.
We have stolen anything, even the thought, the joy and freedom of thought, since that we do not have the strength to think with our heads and decided in our heads.
doing something right because we believe regardless of what anyone else thinks.
do because we think it right for us and for our thinking.
also why we have stolen, the ability to present themselves as thinking beings. Avendoci required to comply with the mass and the common thought that because it is common ... and then induced
not sincere.
The life of the employee. From employee to employee lived and died without ever having the strength to say: I am - indeed - it's me!
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