If the jungle camp in general and this year’s season, in particular, once the entrance to the science found – not only to the professor-Ortega Buffalo University, but also at other certified Humanities sites – then you might Day 14 serve as primary source to which a whole communication science seminar would sore analyze.
A lot is going wrong in this year’s exchange with each other, and maybe you could elaborate using a woolen threads roving indeed times follow more closely, as extend the individual Plapperstränge. First thesis same time awarded as Unit Topic: The campers not really talk to each other, but all prefer one over the other.
Sophie Helena: “The woman is the horror, I had the best geknalllt one.”
Jürgen about Sophia: “I thought, now it has taken lately to much vacuum. “
Helena of all:” Vornerum haha, blah behind your back. ” (Care, please follow this maxim is not the boobies warning sentence “From behind blonde, front ruin” confuse the on Malle belongs to Jürgens resistant recital repertoire in the beer king and he could devote perhaps one or the other Mitcamperin future. The one or the other . Or the one.)
But well, in the jungle it’s just too rude, bringing Helena (“I am here not to Heidschi Bumbeidschi.”) could arrange apparently better in echsiger adaptation delight as Thorsten, the still was suffering from yesterday’s epic showdown with the Kaltmamsell formerly known as Furzfürstin , as he confessed Jürgen: “I have cried so much internally, which believe me sometimes.”
Or, as he later explained in the jungle test: “I think I just, by the Emotional I’m a little mixed up.” Yesterday all remaining Camp males had together ran and oldschool-genderig complete a jungle rally in a small Brumm Brumm car, of course, neatly vorschikaniert: Jürgen, the driver, got a blindfold, Menderes, the pilot, the mouth Thorsten, the mediator was bonded, was provided with earmuffs
. “Left, left, left – the other on the left, my left”
One hears nothing, the other sees nothing, the others may say nothing. Menderes is the only one who knows where it goes. He knows the way, but he must not have it.
This now sounds like a piece of the Sunday sermon of a progressive priest who Dschungelcamp metaphors used in order to lure youth bums in the church. And yet, my brothers and sisters, we must ask ourselves if we so aimlessly eggs see the three goals with their Nuckel tiller through the course (of life?) – Anecken now here, now there, or are times remain – what the would be three we ourselves?
Do we feel not as often the only sighted by many blind people, yet it is not able to show them the way, because we lack the words? We are not crying sometimes our opinion in the world (“Left, left, left – the other on the left, my links to your left is my right right Slowly slowly here because: Reverse!!!”) Without hearing what the tell others? And we will not sometimes be carried away by bleating of the flock and maneuver blindly through our lives, on the wild hunt for stars and vain Mammon?
But the parable of the three Flachzange drivers can then might prefer to think further on Sunday, too religious one is not even erected at the camp. “With me is not good to eat churches”, Sophia summoned in the jungle telephone, and Thorsten talked already in tongues, while Pentecost is still something out: Eagerly he spoke Turkish with Menderes, who knew nothing of all this – is a fantasy language, he acknowledged later A: “This gabbing I’ve angeeicht itself.” If the fearful conjecture on what occasions he speaks, and if he is not but wonder why no one understands him. .
At the end Jürgen flies out of the camp and just missed the semi-finals, which dramaturgy economically fully is alright
(Bonus pun: No wonder Menderes is always so polite – he has finally learned Dankwart. Okay, actually he did an apprenticeship as a gas station attendant, but in Swiss francs you do not come with this little joke by.)
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