"An Irish boy's answer to the question of what he wants to be when he is older: Ex-inmate." Harkaitz Cano, 2023.
The profession that translates over and over has been the subject of that school year. The teacher, as always, asks children individually what they want to be with the augmentation. And there are future nurses, firemen, teachers, soccer players, policemen -- yes, policemen -- carpenters, hairdressers and astronauts. Then comes Martin's turn. And you, Martin, what would you like to have with the increase?... Me? Me, boy. At that time, all these actions that have just been tiktoker, influencer, youtuber and, in general, of the word e-erre remain a cruel option in some garage of the Palo Alto.
Looks like little Mercedes is ready. And there she went to the newly created ikastola of the village of the vineyards, to a newly made teacher. There everything is new, difficult, passionate, scarce and perhaps, so the lady asks her. Please remove the paintings, please remove the papers with the apron, please this and please the other. Fourth day or enough! comments that a 3-year-old Mercedes knows better Spanish: I have become angry with that obligation to order everything! And besides, you call me wrong, merce, ce, not merssegoitza!
Old accounts of our Mercedes, before everyone Euskara sown sprouted above the seed, surely decades ago and not from the educational laws for so much.
At the end of the Basque 20th century, the teacher has worked hard to swallow saliva and think and hang out the outlines of curious children.
Children are on the roll in town school. They talk like every morning about their important issues. Just past the festivities, the flags of Navarra and the red white red flags of the square, the flags of Navarra and other white and black that are next to them, and that Antton does know: This means that the robbers of Erratzu should be in Erratzu prison and those of Arizkun in Arizkungo, those of Amaiur in Amaiur prison and so on.
Awards Antton. At the end of the Basque 20th century, the teacher has worked hard to swallow saliva and to think and hang out the questions of these curious children.
And the plague comes one day with its own mansion. At some point, permission has been given to leave the house, always in some way. Then, isolated, limited by time and distance, mothers and daughters have gone, ttipi-ttapa, attending to the explanations of their mother as their 7 years leave. Damn! & '97; the little one shouted at collecting yellow flowers &' 97; the damn virus and the police. Today we forget about the virus and not so much the police.
Across the screens of our homes, in this impressive live performance of genocide, a Palestinian boy with niki belzdun is crying. This is what your friend of the trikota tells you: His father has been martyred, I have seen him, I have seen him now, yes, I was asleep! And answering friends. And how do you know? Maybe I really slept or maybe not (more crying).
Palestinian children would also like to be imprisoned in their homeland. And with strings attached to the olive branches make the gorgoins.