miércoles, 2 de diciembre de 2009

Text N3 Journalism: Good bye brother


Text 4 journalism

I told everybody “brother” like friend or hommie, and if I have repented several times I found people who don’t deserves to be qualified like brother, this is not the case. Rather, the anger and helplessness of knowing that the world today produces an enormous injustice. Where can get those emotions? To the paper that holds everything.

Paul Lazarini, a man who like me in the fact that the two work in the little film world that exist in Ecuador, and needs the little money that you won in these style of job, but he did and cared in thing much more productive that fill his dollar account, he care the city where he lived like a few people do but one week ago left his house for a bike ride, was hit by a bus, he never returned.

Cut off the metal and tires, left to breathe and exist in the ground that he cared as if it were his life, a motherfucker bus drivers think that he was in a F1 racing killed a one person. Professional tuning wheel and addicts!! In the capital don’t matter how much you accelerate you never go so far for the street system, but if you accelerate like Montoya or Schumager you cause an accident. One like the Lazarini family is suffering right now

The driver want to escape but the people can capture, when the police came to the accident they realize that the owner of the bus was the Colonel?, So to get them there duty?, For the benefit of a superior and yourself, creating a circle of complacency and complicity of those who are here to provide security at all?. Lying down, do not forget.

It is absurd that people know the route determined by ecological, either by necessity or conviction, potentially risking their lives much more than people like who are laziness to get a bicycle. The decision between having metal box there that you feel isolated or feel brother of the world and support it with simple things like don’t drive a car. Respect and support for cyclist’s, now that this stupid system killed one of yours.

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