Lua-v-ar dracii cu etica voastra!!!

In March 1993 Carter made a trip to southern Sudan with intentions of documenting the local rebel movement. However, upon arriving and witnessing the horror of the famine, Carter began to take photographs of starving victims. The sound of soft, high-pitched whimpering near the village of Ayod attracted Carter to a young emaciated Sudanese toddler. The girl had stopped to rest while struggling to a feeding center, wherein a seemingly well-fed vulture had landed nearby. He said that he waited about 20 minutes, hoping that the vulture would spread its wings. It didn't. Carter snapped the haunting photograph and chased the vulture away. However, he also came under heavy criticism for just photographing — and not helping — the little girl:

"The man adjusting his lens to take just the right frame of her suffering might just as well be a predator, another vulture on the scene."

The photograph was sold to The New York Times where it appeared for the first time on March 26, 1993. Practically overnight hundreds of people contacted the newspaper to ask whether the child had survived, leading the newspaper to run a special editor's note saying the girl had enough strength to walk away from the vulture, but that her ultimate fate was unknown.

On April 2, 1994 Nancy Buirski, a foreign New York Times picture editor, phoned Carter to inform him he had won the most coveted prize for photography. Carter was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Feature Photography on May 23, 1994 at Columbia University's Low Memorial Library.

On 27 July 1994 Carter drove to the Braamfonteinspruit river, near the Field and Study Centre, an area he used to play at as a child, and took his own life by taping one end of a hose to his pickup truck’s exhaust pipe and running the other end to the passenger-side window. He died of carbon monoxide poisoning at the age of 33.

textu de pe Wikipedia. foto de aici

Muhahaha

I'm back! Big as life and twice as ugly

„Trei zile daca mai traiesc, da’vreau sa stiu ca s-a limpezit lumea”

De cand m-au adus din puscarie, eu am mers taras. Faceam toate draciile contra comunismului. Imi dam drumu’ pe scara in camasa da noapte, sa creada ca intru-n closet. Aveam cuiele scoase la doua uluci si treceam dincolo. Bagam mancarea pentru partizani intr-o gramada mare de craci. Ce auzeam scriam si puneam hartia intr-o scorbura.

Puneam cana pe perete, tineam urechea pe fundu’ canii si auzeam ce vorbeau securistii in camera de-alaturi. <
Capitanu’ Carnu era din Bacau. El m-a schingiuit. Eu traiesc incarligata, cum sunt, si cu genunchii scosi, si el nu mai e! M-a operat Maiestatea (Regele Mihai I) la spitalul de langa Foisorul de Foc. Maiestatea a platit. Mi-au pus carlige la genunchi, cum puneam eu la perdele. Nu mai am par deloc, uite! Si uite in fotografie ce par bogat am avut, si salba de aur. Mi-au luat tot comunistii.

Ginerele, cuscru, toti au facut puscarie pentru ca eu am dat de mancare la partizani.
Ma aducea lumea cu toala acasa. Ultima data, a venit Carnu cu ala de cauciuc si o curea pe mana. “Spune!” N-am spus. M-a legat de maini cu unu care-a murit si el pe soseaua spre Bucuresti. “Iti dam 300 de lei!” “Domnule capitan, eu nu sunt Iuda, sa-i vanz pe 30 de arginti...” M-a trantit pe jos.

M-a legat si m-a batut cu cauciucu’, de la ceafa la calcai, si pe stanga, si pe dreapta. A dat Domnu’ de-a murit si eu traiesc, na! Da’ n-am luat banii lui.
Apoi, m-au suit legata pe un scaun, de pe scaun pe masa, de pe masa, pe alt scaun. Mi-a zvarlit basmaua din cap. “Spune!” Purtam coada cu funta. Mi-au aruncat fota si am ramas in iie. Mi-a legat coada sub carligu’ de lampa din casa boierului. Coada era groasa. Eram si eu altfel la 38 de ani... Carnu mi-a tras scaunu’. alalalt mi-a tras si masa.

Coada mi-a ramas in carlig si eu am cazut la pamant. Asa mi-au smuls paru’. Am facut tratament si nu mi-a mai crescut. Da’ tot nu i-am vandut...”