Our ears traumatized of hearing the painful news, brought me
not happiness to be sure, nevertheless engaged me in the bonds of grief about
the death of a young sportsman on the field. He was a dream, a hope, an
aesthetic which gave to world modernity a touch of elegance, there was the
sound of applauded sorrow as the world rose rose to greet him, when he was
registered to death, a good cricketers are not like mediocre critics, like
termites creep out of the wood work of his history to the recite the mistakes
but announce the glad tiding news about his life and giving not such statements to get a cheap publicity
and create confusion among the public is not a good strategy and the magic was
gone.
The tears of a squeamish family followed the course of the
river and the hope of teammates hanging on his coffin. Casket was framed by the
branches of a plant with white flowers.
Hughes wandered along the bridge of his return connected to
his umbilical cord finally, I think he found a sleep full of sweet dreams and
health and quiet breathing and the world reeked in a shock.
0 comments:
Post a Comment