From my personal anecdotes.
As a child I went to a state school. For those who were pubertal in the eighties, the State could be in a building, there was no ministries or secretaries, the State was, paradoxically, a long journey, without a country and complete with large patio where there was always a stage. The setting was a sacred space, veiled and banned, was reserved for special events. Any child who dared to tread its boards or escaping from a hiding spot in a hidden, was immediately forced to get out of there by the wardens of order and progress (in years exceeded repressive agents, makeup and hysteria). The scenario of a single State College opened its ancient curtain once a month, with luck and cooperating in favor. In that space of dim lights paraded in the constellation of the show. On stage at my school, for example Quipildor Zamba song, but it was not the only one there took my first steps into acting and I showed my young musical talents playing the toc TOCs. I remember hiding detrás de la formación musical cuando perdí el ritmo para no perder la dignidad. Ese escenario también fue testigo de encuentros familiares, donde con la excusa de sortear premios, se convocaba espectáculos de artistas psudo-profesionales, que ante los abucheos del publico terminaban pateando platos de locros entre los allí reunidos. En fin, pobres espectáculos, grandes recuerdos. Allí también aprendí a ser espectador no pasivo. Recuerdo que una vez se convoco a Titanes en el Ring. Allí acudieron los luchadores de menor cache dentro de el staff pugilistico. Las cuotas impagas impidieron traer a personalidades como Martin Karadagian, la Momia o Pepino, y al mismo precio pudieron traer a 10 o 12 enmascarados de segunda categoría. Still, for children, the show was promising. The event was similar to when the funny guy dressed as Santa Claus, all children know who he is, but he made the second to pass the time and do not feel pathetic. Anyway, the thing is that one of the fights scheduled Dink-C enter, applauded by children, handing in their path, packets of juice, no more than a dozen, the rest keep it safe. His rival ... the man in the laguuuunaaaaa. The bad. The latter, dressed half frog, half alien, representing a "be dark emerged from the depths of a lagoon," which, on its way to the ring, when approaching the stage where we all (or children over 10 years) had no better idea to open your mouth and shoot from his throat, a splash of water a better firefighter crazy style. Public response was immediate infant at that time, a horde of irate children coincided at the same time without solution of continuity, in return the kindness with pseudo spitting accurate pointing directly to all humanity disguised as that character. What I remember is that the good man, a transvestite in "being in the depths" cursed with one hand while the other tried to clean a clothes soaked and unusable for any other functions continue ".
Moral: Here and in the Atlantis you give what you get, then get what you give ... nothing is lost, everything changes. (...)
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