because none of us is fucking up like we think we are, is what i'm trying to say

Dropping love bombs like it's my job. Oh. Wait. IT IS.

I've always enjoyed a student protest or two, but when we were told we'd have to clear our 'protest' topic with The Big Boss before we took to the streets of Loano here at DREAMERSchool, we pretty much knew that anything interesting would get veto-ed. It's not good PR to have a project sponsored by the inventor of Kinder Surprise demonstrate against big businesses at the front door now, is it?

(Sidenote: if big business pays for projects like this, though, what's to protest?)

BUT. Hold on, I thought. What about love? Nobody would veto love...

And so yesterday was Love Day, complete with banners and wigs and love notes for strangers. We pounded the pavements with instruments and smiles, grabbing onto old ladies and babies and cute boys on the way to the beach, and we said, ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE. LOVE IS ALL YOU NEED.

We took the Secret Love thing to a whole new level. This time, the louder you shouted it the better. And nobody disagreed with us.

To say I felt the love would be an understatement. But then, to suggest I might've gotten teary will come as a surprise to ABSOLUTELY NOBODY, so I'll just let the photos tell the story.

















At the end of every class, we always have our 'colors' anonymously tell us what they liked about the day, and what they didn't. They pop their ideas in a box on the way out of the door, and when they are gone we see how they felt that day.

After Love Day, in the 'I like' box, we found this:


Me fucking too, dude. Me fucking too.(Incidentally, the 'I don't like' box was empty.)Want to say something about this post? Talk to me! TwitterFacebook. EmailInstagram. Bloglovin'.
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