The Funkfunk are university students. They know how to survive a philosophical lesson, they know exactly which method of learning to take to store more information and to succeed in an exam, know how to write a scientific research, know how to think, eat, sleep and breathe by students, ... Being a student is something that you learn over time but, when you understand the formula, go ahead thanks to a motion automatically.
That's how I thought before becoming, in addition to a student funklandese, a student driver. So I thought before I met my crazy teacher guidance, Gandhi Maestho. What my presumption!
"Alloha Lola, puhe tell me how are you?"
"But well thanks, I am putting across."
"Well, but there's time. I told you that I go on holiday?"
Your continued use of past tense reminds me of its origins in the Italian deep south. I must say that yes I "said" he would go on vacation. But I am struck by the other part of the sentence, "there is time," pronounced with those of open and once again betray its origin and sometimes even my own.
"Look, I have not much time, consideration is Saturday." I reply very kindly and ignoring accusations that they could play around thus: "Dear sir odd that a month darts around me in this little car all painted signs that the conduct of a student, sir eclectic that made me suffer from headaches for the harsh interpretation of its new allegations age on the philosophy of driving, my dear sir the "r" away I paid dearly, you tell me if you have forgotten the date of the exam, which I reminded ad nauseum? " The
Maestho, with charm, poise, nonchalantly, pretending to be the victim of a sudden loss of memory, now miraculously found. After this misunderstanding we begin our tour on the streets and alleys, streets and highways.
"What are these shots, these uhti "
" I do not know ... "
" Alloha, alloha, Fehmi Lola! It must confehihe ... "I've done something wrong, something that seems to have offended. We have to give my mistake, but what ever I have done so outraged?
" Lola, you have the ascoltahe fhizione, you know? "
" The what? "
" The FHI-uncle-ne! "he articulates.
" I mean, there is a point of contact and tha the fhizione motohe "While saying this phrase takes his hands, raises them in plain sight and weaves one another. I'm beginning to understand what you mean by contact.
"Lola you see, is a pair" refers to the act of weaving their hands in prayer, although prayer little hits.
"The fhizione ahivahe to the point of contact and then after mating. Contact-coupling contact-pair, you know?" Puzzled I lift up my hands and once again I attend to my madness consigliatami Maestho. Clasp hands and separate and then twist them again. I guess a love story between the clutch and the engine.
"Well Lola. But you, peh contho, you know what you doing?" I still
taken from the poetry of that teaching: "What do I do?"
"This!" He takes his hands and beat together with a will! Plack! Plack!
"See what I mean, Caha Lola, the fhizione uhtahe should not, must accoppiahsi?"
I understood, I understood very well. I had taken a heart attack. Dry mouth, la lingua appiccicata al palato non riesce nell'abbozzo di nessuna parola o sillaba. Faccio di sì con la testa, sorrido nevroticamente e mi rimetto in carreggiata.
Quale presunzione la mia... Quella di credere che essere studenti s'impara col tempo, che diventa poi un'arma da utilizzare in ogni occasione senza difficoltà . Ma alla storia d'amore della "fhizione" io proprio non c'ero preparata.
Lola :-)
0 comments:
Post a Comment