(hmm i see that as a formal way of learning to write coming from a handbook, i'm not good at following rules you know but i did begin to write something on the bus this morning; if i had followed my envy i would have written all in one long text; here's one vision, i had many, we could once chose and write on a similar theme?!.)
1 and 2. The wagon is slowly pulled back on the gigantic slope, we hear the loud sound of the wheel cogs hammering one each other like the advent of an execution. My friend spent half of his life on a wheeling chair and here he is again doing the scarest ride of the park, sitting next to him i see his hands blending with the padded bar, our lean and unique savior, the thread of each existence on this caterpillar, and every brain can picture the fall and the thud of a skull opening out on the concrete tiles spurting pulp out of his peel.
I feel excited, my entire body shivers, that's certainly a situation who puts the imagination at work, my guts want to evaporate, i sense them liquefied in my belly, i've decided to make the balance with the frightened sweat floating around our infernal apparatus. Despite my friend being from the Carribean, i can see his veined hands turning grey by the pressure of his grip, his nails on the verge to pop out and both like panting hearts striped with swollen lines. I smile all i can, i want to curse the world lungs aloud, that's the last ride, i rub my hands together, i'm tied to the seat but i feel i can't stay still, i wave and i want to jump, i watch right and left, the fields and forests afar and the short bemused people beneath, i drink the landscape from this height and i can't wait to fly because strangely i feel i'm gonna escape, escape to fly away, safe from the crushing others.
3. (coming soon... perhaps...) three doesn't inspire me at all, you imagine now why i had poor grades at school, i have a tendency to skip what doesn't please me.
4. (coming soon... or never)
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