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Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta violence. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta violence. Mostrar todas las entradas

martes, 13 de marzo de 2018

A HORRID SCENE

By: George Orwell



April 4th, 1984

Last night to the flicks. Al war films. One very good one of a ship full of refugees being bombed somewhere in the Mediterranean. Audience much amused by shots of of a great huge fat man trying to swim away with a helicopter after him. First you saw him wallowing along in the water like a porpoise, them you saw him through the helicopters gunsights, then he was full of holes and the sea round him turned pink and he sank as suddenly as though the holes had let in the water. Audience shouting with laughter when he sank. Then you saw a lifeboat full of children with a helicopter hovering over it. There was a middleaged woman might have been a jewess sitting up in the bow with a little boy about three years old in her arms. Little boy screaming with fright an hiding his head between her breasts as if he was trying to burrow right into her and the woman putting her arms around him and comforting him although she was blue with fright herself. All the time covering him up as much as possible as if she thought her arms could keep the bullets off him. Then the helicopter planted a 20 kilo bomb in among them terrific flash and the boat went all to matchwood. Then there was a wonderful shot of a childs arm going up up up right up into the air a helicopter with a camera in its nose must have followed it up and there was a lot  of applause from the party seats but a woman down in the prole part of the house suddenly started kicking up a fuss and shouting they didnt oughter of showed it not in front of the kids they didnt it aint right not in front of kinds it aint until the police turned her turned her out i dont suppuse anything happened to her nobody cares what the proles say typical prole reaction they never.

It's taken from:  Orwell, George. (1949). 1984. New American Library. New York.