As The night grows cold, I remember a wise old teacher. Her name is Annie, Ms. Annie. As I stare into the stars, in a fine Friday evening, I think of her and all she taught us. Through the hardships we rose victorious, with Ms Annita Santos leading us into victory, riding her golden chariot, a symbol for art, vigor, perseverance, patience, strength and unique perspective which is vital in a beautiful soul... but enough about me.
Speaking of wise teachers, I never realized that I, the mighty Stanford Siy has a voice. One man has made me realize that, a man I will never forget. You may know him as the yellow bear in the famous Disney cartoon, I know him as my mentor, his name of course is Dan, Mr. Dan. Dan thanks to you, I'm a better man, who now knows he can express what he feels through his heart and soul, by opening my mouth and releasing melodies of emotions and beauty through vocal prowess... but enough about me.
Looking back to the night of the performance, the excitement comes rushing back into my veins. The very veins which pump passion into my bleeding heart. Although I, Stanford Siy was not in the spotlight tonight, it is solemn duty to get out there and do what I must, give it all I got, my heart and soul. Breath by breath I'll be a fighter. A hero is born among a hundred, a wise man is found among a thousand, but an accomplished one might not be found even among a hundred thousand men (just an insight)... but enough about me.
This is the grave of an unnamed soldier. A soldier who will always bleed blue, white and red. Who's heart will always beat to the tune of the French national anthem, "La Marseilles". Who's veins will always pulsate with the unending passion for his country on which he died on.
His life may seem meaningless now, resting his head on where he has befallen. Lying below him are the bodies of the once living students, who join this unnamed soldier in death.
But was this soldier's death in vain? What will the history books say about this man? Probably nothing, but one thing is fore sure, his image will always be in the hearts of those who knew him, and his spirit will linger on throughout the steppes of France, forever.....
GAVROCHE
Liar!
Good evening, dear inspector
Lovely evening, my dear.
I know this man, my friends
His name is Inspector Javert
So don't believe a word he says
'Cause none of it's true
This only goes to show
What little people can do!
And little people know
When little people fight
We may look easy pickings
But we've got some bite
So never kick a dog
Because he's just a pup
We'll fight like twenty armies
And we won't give up
So you'd better run for cover
When the pup grows up!
At first, this play may seem like a nuisance, a waste of time, unnecessary. But the question is, was it? at the end of the day do you get nothing for nothing? Does sitting flat on your butt buy you any bread? No it doesn't, the play was a success, all that needed to be said was said, all that needed to be done was done, all that needed to be accomplished was accomplished, and all that needed to be learned was learned. Now was it all a waste? you tell me.
