So instead of associating him with revolution and corn, think about his dreams.
In 1951, the young man, 24, liked Baudelaire, almost became an MD. Sixteen years before his death. They traveled through South America from Buenos Aires. In the beginning, it was always playful and boring, with a certain meaning of looking for an affair. Temptation and predicament are no different from every young person. Then he met the bankrupt, the farmer, he visited the ancestors of old times, South America, he came to the leprosy hospital, and later he saw the difference in the world.
Asthma is like a wake-up call, always aware of the distance from the world.
That's the plot of the movie. It's actually a bit of a posturing, isn't it?
Rather than loving the dream, it is better to love the dream itself. If Argentines are good at it, think about another poet famous for his short stories.
The story's follow-up, and soon, he becomes some kind of symbol, what idealism, revolution and colony, nothing but young blood. It is worth mentioning that, many years later, he returned to South America from a small island in the Caribbean Sea. In the humid rainforest, still with enthusiasm, innocence and asthma. And those dreams he always had. Then he died.
I always wondered if he really made people happy in
2010, I was 22 and liked Ketasar and Celan. Adolescence is over, and I am a little tired, and I need to think about it. Spend a lot of time having fun and thinking and not giving yourself some special experience in your life. Every day I read, attend classes, watch movies, and stay at home. Getting ready to travel to Montreal in a while. Che had been dead for many years by this time, his face was printed all over the place, and people loved and hated him, slandered him and remembered him.
You know, I liked him a lot when I was younger, and then it finally faded away. When I was younger, I had a lot of wonderful desires, and now they are slowly flattening.
At 22 years old, I have done a lot of things, but nothing seems to be done. Sometimes I think about Truman Capote who was already famous at 22, and who wrote his masterpiece at 22. What are you still doing. But in the end, I can only laugh, return to a sigh, and continue to live. Occasionally think of Che, and suddenly think, sometimes people are waiting for a passionate power.
After reading the motorcycle diary that night, I suddenly wanted to smoke. Suddenly, I remembered that I don't know which book wrote about Che's death.
Prado took out a red and white cigarette case from his jacket pocket and handed it to Che. It was a North American brand.
"No, thank you, I don't smoke light cigarettes." For some
reason,
I always remember this.
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