For Cortelli Rossa Da - prose by MUIR These are the days that Romans call glorious. The citizens to kings emerge, vain as semi-gods due to the new enlightened revolutions. We are the newly generation with rods of ire: we fight for freedom. we slight pity and speak ourselves in the shoes of our brothers and sisters. We are the individuals that blessed for knowledge. An order of new rejections to the cold days of past. Yes, the days are glorious, comparable to the esteems of our fathers- toleration that our days are worst or of imagined Eden should we choose. Yet, i need not say these are bad times, for I'd forget the arts, the movement of the flower power in the previous decade, the sudden rise of self- fulfillment and our sinned pleasures- which we cannot help. But i shant say these times are good either, for even in glorious times the already weakened shall weaken further. And this, my mother once confessed, damned us the minute we arrived in Paris some seventeen years ago.