reading our new Italian themes, the results of a job a year-IIA
Thursday, June 10, 2010
At the end of the year, many were the fruits of ... this frenzied IIA! ;-)
Most of all I liked the grit
who have acquired! 
And so it happens that, jumping from bough shovel as we are now accustomed to, including a lesson that he knew a bit 'of history, a bit' of geography, a bit 'of literature, in fact he knew a man, you end up talking about the death penalty
of sense, justice or not it has ... A theme to say the least difficult, thorny, raw for children of 12 years ... But their interest was all about and so I won my misgivings ... If a student says, "Prof , I open a map and consider the matter on Mind42
, "how do you say no? Many themes were written by my delinquentucci about it, many very touching ... let me say, more mature their 12 years!
Thanks guys for all this, thank you for your maturity and generosity of donarmela!
Here the theme written and published by
Gargiulo :
The last sigh. (the last moments of life of an innocent person sentenced to death in America)
It's cold.
It's cold in this dark cell. I can see the clouds of my breath out of me. As the tears flow. Tears will leave forever in these cells. Tears of innocence. My. I tremble. I shiver with cold and fear. Especially fear. I can feel my trembling in the silence of the dark. And the tears keep rigarmi face. But ... why? Why am I here? I have not done anything! I keep repeating it but I do not believe. But who can believe in me? A poor man. A black man. That does not have a dollar in his pocket. I still cry. I tremble. I am innocent! Given this rough justice! I did not anything and I'm here, with the death in the next room. Nestled on the ground Stingo stronger legs to me. Seeking solace in them but not find it. Tears. Fear and tears. And my innocence will never be heard, evaluated. Will die with me. One of the many stop-gap to the crimes that are not resolved. But I am innocent. And look what happened to do. I am one of the slums. I'm not worth anything to them. And they are happy because in the eyes of all were good. And I, the dregs of the community in their eyes, will be forgotten like so many others. Yet I did not know that guy! I had never seen. I passed by there by chance. I have no faults. It was night and I was slightly tipsy. I saw him there, on the ground in a pool of blood. I did not know what to do. His shirt was torn and stood there motionless. I went to check if still breathing. I heard footsteps from behind but I turned. Approached. I was checking if he was still alive when he heard me ... grab from behind. I did not know who he was. I did not know what he wanted. I did not know what he wanted me until I felt the pain. Pain and truncheon blows. Slaps and kicks. And they were strong. I began to shout: "Enough," "Please stop!". But no one listened to me. I saw everything dark. Then I saw blood. It was not the boy died, and was mine! My cries became more and more insignificant until I heard them again. I was scared and did not understand anything. I only saw the dark. And then I found myself here, in a cold cell to suffer torture more disturbing: the fear. And I feel my last breath carefully. Because I know. Soon will come to pick me up. To hear the clink of keys turning in the lock. Hear someone pronounce my name and I'll stop crying. I will leave here my last tears. I did not bring her back. And count the bricks of the Green Mile that I will go. And that corridor will be the last that I will go. And my fear and my heart speeded up things that I will be the last. But it will be short lived. And I will bring before the black door. I will not know what awaits me after death. Meanwhile I will pray for the last time.
I'm afraid. Tanta. And I no longer had a future.
clink. The key turning in the lock. Sigh. Last .
Gargiulo
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