be seeing? It mattered little that day, was not the time to study.
The radio was on, and a round of white-clad students gathered to listen. A mate was walking around the room, but never reached my hands. Small groups are not-so-outstanding Radio formed in the corners of the tiny room. Some played the trick, others to tutti frutti, and a few just chatted about inconsequential things. Almost as if that were an hour off.
But it was not. The teacher was still there, circling, pseudo obliged not to teach so that kids could listen to the game. Anyway, I never paid much attention to the poor.
was August 2008 when I still went to secUndaria, but has not spent too much time actually. They were celebrating the Olympics, and as usual, it almost seemed the only thing they talked about my teammates. Of course, that game was important to them, because in this country these are the things that really matter. Politics? "Poverty? War? No, what interests are sports. I can never understand it at all, but I know it well.
The scene was relaxing. Without excessive clutter, papers and chalk flying from side to side or stupid jokes some of my peers. I remember that time fondly, like an old sepia photo. It was quiet: mate, letters, radio and a slight murmur, especially anything that might disturb.
Although not understand the fascination with sports, he could enjoy the moment. Even when the noise came back with a shrill cry of "Goal!", Even though the celebration was extended to all classrooms, and school clutter completely out, I was fine. Not like now, people no longer have to shout to break my quiet, their mere presence is enough. At that time everything was simple.
I would go back to that time when the Olympics were taking even more important than the gossip, when we could ask the teacher a free hour grant knowing that when I could laugh to see my fellow fighting with the radio. Then I could quietly observe and act without thinking, instead of taking me hours or
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