I was only 15 years old; imagine a little boy in a huge and beautiful city without parents, without family. A boy who thought he was alone in the world. Now, in the year 2021, I know I’m not alone. I choose to stay in Lima and this is why and how Lima grew until this year, 2021. It was the 2010, I was ten years and I needed to survive. As long I remembered I lived in a small town in Italy. I used to steal for a living, escape from the police and, now that I remember, I was a kind of Tarzan. It wasn’t the life a ten year old boy should have. One day I stole a tough man, which honestly, seemed to be a gangster, and he was so. Unfortunately, he catches me and in that moment my life turned into another direction. This gangster kidnapped me, but …show more content…
The only thing I could do was to escape from them and hide where I can. That was it, I was fifteen years old and I was already being wanted by the Interpol. I had no one, I had nothing. The only person I think I could trust in was a complete liar. When I thought all was lost and my life was destroyed, I met a peculiar man. I was on a bench under the rain, when he found me, we talk about the mistakes we’ve made in life and we share stories, he told me that years ago he used to be a thief, just like me. But something changed on him, he fell in love with Lima; he realizes that he was not only harming himself, but also the city, his name was …show more content…
But that does not stop us; we were still trying to send Abruzzi to jail. Finally, we reach to valuable information, the one who would put Stefano Abruzzi behind bars for a long period of time, but when we were delivering it to the police, a man in a Ducati shot me and Vincenzo, the person who took me when I had nothing, took the bullet for me and he instantly died. I swore to kill Abruzzi so he cannot hurt anyone or nothing again. I used my training to search for Abruzzi. I did some things which I am not proud. I was not thinking clearly, he killed the only person who really helped me, the only person who was the closest thing to a father I could never have. One clue led me to another one until I finally found him. He was alone in a log cabin just outside the city. The door was opened and I just push it, there he was, seated looking at the door, it seemed he was waiting for me. After a long fight I was able to kill him, but I remember what Vincenzo taught me, so instead I gave him to the police. Since then I’ve fought for the city, to make of Lima a secure place to live in which people can admire and aim to be best. Lima will always have someone who will take care of it, his name is Nathan
Growing up is complex, especially in a society with different cultural background. This is the major issue the novel “Looking for Alibrandi” discusses. A realistic view through the eyes of a seventeen-year old Italian girl, Josephine is presented. Josephine’s like many teenagers that have learned from their mistakes. This is the long road that everybody meets while growing up.
It was April when I first began my criminal actions I let my ambitions take over to become rich and powerful. Later that year I moved to Chicago, where I knew some of my criminal associated pals, we started small from robbing stores, to stealing from the powerless. Later on I joined a gang our gang did the most god-awful things this was the way of becoming a gangster, We robbed a bank my biggest gain from that time my share was five million dollars this bumped me up to the boss of The Johnny Torrio’s gang. Furthermore into my life I remembered a pal named Jimmy Wells we made an appointment for the time being for twenty years. The next day I took a train to New York, where I have lived most of my youth.
Stolen Children is a Gianni Amelio’s magnum opus and a tragic salute to neorealism. The film follows a carabinieri, Antonio, who was assigned to escort two southern orphans in northern Italy to a Catholic orphanage, but when that proved to be unsuccessful, he took it in his hands to escort the children back to southern Italy. Gianni, much like De Sica, explores the issue of failed institutions that are fundamental to a contemporary society or an individual in need of help. When these central institutions, such as the church or law, begin to deteriorate, so does the community that relies on them. He also makes a point of criticizing post-modern institutions, such as the role of media in current society and its socio-cultural impact. This criticism begins the fundamental conversation, postmodern society should concern itself with to improve one’s present civilization.
It was three O’clock and school gets out at three O’two. I was so excited, when the bell rang I was as fast a cheetah getting out of there. Hearing the horns of traffic and the smell of a downtown, smokey Chicago. The only bad part is me having to walk/run home in some of the scariest, darkest, and some of the most dangerous streets in Chicago. Most streets have a gang associated with them. The ninth street has Cinco’s on them, one of the smelliest streets in Chicago. The twelfth street has the Lamonsta gang, some of the strangest people. I live on fifteenth street but I always see lights flashing on sixteenth and I have heard stories that if people go down it they don’t come back.
The story is written is a simplifying and easy vocabulary which is not hard to understand, what enables the readers to focus on the emotional side of the story. Throughout the story, there are words in Italian. The fast trans...
On the Monday October 27th, 2014, for the first time in 4 years I did not wake up at 5:30 in the morning, I was not putting on a green skivvy shirt and shorts. There was no formation, no one that was higher command I had to report to, telling me where I had to go, what time I had to eat breakfast, what was I doing this day or what our platoon plans were for the day. There were no PT (physical training) I had to do this morning. Instead, I woke up grab a regular t-shirt, khaki shorts, and my two sea bags full of clothing and gear that I collected during my time in the Marine Corps. I threw everything in my vehicle and drove from Camp Pendleton, California to Quincy, Illinois. Within two weeks I was accepted to Southern Illinois University Carbondale. For three days, I stayed at the
If only my mind could erase the face of the man who I assumed was my online friend, Brian. Either, Brian did not share his accurate information online, or the person who I had met was assumingly his father. The latter would be the excuse the 37-year-old abductor gave as an attempt to lure me to his vehicle that sat outside of the downtown bus station. As the man began to approach the far-off corner bench just outside of the bus station in the waiting area that Brian and I had specifically set as the meeting point, my heart rate accelerated as I heard the man ask, “Are you, Alfred?”. Unaware of the man’s relationship to Brian, and even more so, puzzled as to how the man knew who I was, and my meeting location, I asked if he had known Brian,
I looked at the clock. 7:50 AM. No time for breakfast. I had to get to work. In this business, either you were there on time to take someone's case or he went to another detective. I grabbed my coat and started running down the apartment stairs, trying to wave down a taxi. My landlord tried to nab me and complain about my late rent, but I had not time to trifle with him. I jumped into the first taxi I saw and told the driver to take me to the corner of 7th and Elm.
From the time I was born until the day I left for Rome last August, my grandfather had always cut my hair. As he cut my hair, he would tell me stories about Westerly, family matters, tending the garden and, of course, his birthplace Acri, which is situated in the center of Calabria, Italy. He would tell the same stories over and over to me, my father, my aunt and uncle and my cousins. He never tired of telling these stories and they always seem to bring a smile to his face. Now when I look back, these are the memories I have of him, of who he was, of what he did, and how he lived. In April of this year, I had the unique opportunity of traveling to Acri on a day trip. When I arrived in this small town situated in the mountains of Calabria, I began to see all the places my grandfather told me about when he used to cut my hair.
Where are you?” There was no sign of my mom. I looked around and saw an old grandma sitting on a bench. I ran to her and asked, “Have you seen my mommy anywhere?” She looked at me and didn’t say a word. I got more scared so, I ran away from her. I continued running until I suddenly tripped over a rock which was sitting in the middle of the dirt road. I rolled down the road and saw blood was dripping from my forehead and a bruise on my left leg. Suddenly a huge crowd gathered around me. Everyone stared at me and started whispering about me. “Who is he?” “Why is he sitting here?” Looking at the people, tears ran off my eyes. In nervousness I folded my legs and put my arms around my legs. Later on, a person in black clothes armored tapped on my shoulder and asked me softly, “Hey there little fellow, why you crying?” I looked in his eyes and cried, “I lost my mom in this bazaar and I can’t find her.” He quietly said, “I’m a police officer and I can help you find her”. I then remembered what my mom told me earlier about police. I whipped my tears and nodded my head. I grabbed his hand and he took me around the bazaar. He asked everyone if they know who I am, however, no one knew
The elements at play in the novel and film are quite remarkable for their traditionally universal appeal.3 The fates of two adolescents, one jailed the other unwilling jailer, intersect and are soon bound together in a struggle for survival at the hands of unsuspecting enemies. The filmmaker's aim was to adopt a child's unadulterated point of view in referential opposition to the surrounding adult world. Given the suspenseful plot and the exploration of the young protagonists' fears at coping with a habitat they must disavow, such an aim and narrative scheme were expected to gather much attention.4 The pre-teens Michele, the novel's principal hero, and Filippo the kidnapped child are ultimately elevated from a pit of dirt and fear, the antechamber of death, chiefly by their own heroic praxis. Yet the problematic lack of any meaningful degree of depth in the novel and film seems to lie precisely with its overly schematic construction, tailored to safely weather the otherwise unpredictable market.
Set in the small, secluded Southern Italy town of Acqua Traverse in the scorching summer of 1978, Niccolo Ammaniti’s novel ‘I’m Not Scared’ tells the tale of a nine year old boy’s struggle against moral principles and fight against evil. Throughout the book themes like cruelty and captivity to friendship and loyalty are explored by the author. Readers may believe that real friendship and loyalty do not exist in the novel after several incidents involving betrayal and friendships broken are encountered. However, it is Michele, who proves this wrong because of his concern and loyalty to others. After finding Filippo in a hole dehumanised and traumatised, Michele builds a strong friendship with him
It was the second semester of fourth grade year. My parents had recently bought a new house in a nice quite neighborhood. I was ecstatic I always wanted to move to a new house. I was tired of my old home since I had already explored every corner, nook, and cranny. The moment I realized I would have to leave my old friends behind was one of the most devastating moments of my life. I didn’t want to switch schools and make new friends. Yet at the same time was an interesting new experience.
Just a few days after, I was in a great distress. We changed our home address and transferred in Montalban. I’ve lost my friends and entered a new school and a new house. I did not have any allies anymore. I did not have anyone to support me in my own selfish and childish dreams except my twin brother. Consequently, I came to realize that my most envied enemy is actually my only true
Finally I got some fat old Soc to tell me what was going on. There were kids missing. I heard a scream from the church. I never asked Johnny to follow me in, but he did. We saved most of the kid’s lives but little did we know as we ran in that Johnny would be dead. A burning beam fell on him. He was in the hospital for weeks but didn’t live. The night he died is the night we also lost Dally. Dally was with me when Johnny died, just after we had driven the Soc out of our territory. Dally lost control and robbed a gas station. As he was fleeing from the cops, and the gang went to go get him, Dally pulled out his empty heater, but the fuzz didn’t know it was empty. The police took it as a threat, and shot him down. That was the last thing I remembered before the glass broke. I passed out and woke up days later in Soda and I’s room. With both Dally and Johnny gone, there really was no gang anymore, It was just us five Darry, Soda, Two-bit, Steve, and me. There was really no point in calling it a gang anymore. Everything fell apart. I started failing, to me there was really no more point. The juvenile hearing came and went. The glass had finally shattered. I opened my eyes to bright lights. These were definitely not my