June 1963, in the village. Few families have a TV. The butcher’s family is one of them. I was probably on the way to the kindergarten in Shulgass, at that time you could still go somewhere in childhood and go through the butcher. “The funeral of the pope,” said a meat woman for women on the street. “Dad’s funeral comes on TV, do you want to enter?” It was more than an invitation.
Magically dressed, I also ended up in her room, and then stared – how long? In any case, Long is in a box where there were grayish, shaky pictures. Photos that moved. Grissig and not in focus. People who flocked to the place. People who have leveled the streets. People in churches. The man was moved outside. People knelt down. A voice invited everything about this. They prayed, it was music. In this room they took me from the little one. It formed me. And stayed.
Of course, I’m not a hatched duck from the egg, the first thing she sees is the fox, and since she wants behavioral pronunciation, he now believes that the fox is his mother and runs after him, which is fatal. Because this mother will devour this.
I am not so, but still, when the behavior is affected. Thanks to this initial meeting, I love the funeral on television. If I can, I live in front of the screen, let me get carried away. In the inner. It goes very deeply. The funeral of John XXIII. Remembering in June 1963, they launched this in the departure of the butcher. She is a fox.
Papa John XXIII. Was a reformer. Human rights, equality, he took a chance in the Catholic hierarchy. He saved Jews in World War II. Small children also knew that this person was good. During his petition, he prayed for him in the church, so he seemed familiar.
Since then, I have seen a lot of funeral on television. The grief of others excites me and grief for my own mortality. Pictures should not be sharp. Tears come to me when I see films from Ukraine, where people knelt on the sidelines of the road, when the corner angle passes past the fallen. The funeral of Diana is unforgettable. I cried in a common kitchen and, although I agreed, could not tear myself away. Later there were terrible statements about the delay.
I also liked the fact that the death of Soviet headlines was previously declared music on television. The news was: “Soviet state television only sends classical music!” This was a sign of death. I look forward to it when it will be so soon. I also remember the funeral of Prince Philip. The music was better than the queen next year.
I have nothing with the royal family or church. Of course, I will still adhere to the TV on Saturday, waiting for the inner fireworks. The fact that the screen now devours me like a fox is a different turn.