The dark room, just tired stained by sunlight filtering through the blinds. My puppy close to his chest, with small legs that hang up to my hips. And that background is the same as if breathing my belly ... "If I could hold my breath before you think, I had the words, big ones, to be able to surround ... Me and my little Anita ...
the past few years I feel like the water in the bed of a stream. Every day I learn to enjoy the biggest smiles innocenti della mia piccolina... e un brivido scorre lungo la schiena al pensiero di quello che vivrà, di quanto imparerà a stare al mondo, e osservandola discretamente da vicino so che un pò sarà come tornare a rivivere...
" dammi ancora la mano, anche se quello stringerla è solo un pretesto per sentire quella tua fiducia totale che nessuno mi ha dato o mi ha mai chiesto; vola, vola tu, dov'io vorrei volare verso un mondo dove è ancora tutto da fare e dove è ancora tutto, o quasi tutto "...
Ma come vorrei avere i tuoi occhi, spalancati sul mondo come carte assorbenti and your clean and filled with laughter, almost without remorse or repentance, but as I have yet to look at all like the books to browse and still have all or almost all, to try ...
Culodritto, you go away safely, making live pirates chromosomes of Lombard, of the Celts and the Romans' ancient plains, mountain, queen remote control, to assert that absolute diagnosis and ask, of suspicion and belief in curious world of adults, even if you have not
my fights muddy fields, yard and road and do not know how it tastes the flavor of the grape 'stolen in a row, soon you will realize how easy it is get a' useless software science and see how confused the issue and work on their own experience ... Culodritto, what can I say? Only that it costs more effort and that life is still the same, but it's ancient history, Culodritto ...
give me your hand, even if that string is just an excuse to hear that your total confidence that no one has ever asked me or given; fly, fly you, Where 'I want to fly to a world where it is still everything to do and where it is still all or almost all ... fly, fly you, Where 'I want to fly to a world where everything is still to be done and where it is still all or nearly all, of the mistakes ... Ps thanks
I had just placed both hands on the edges of the sink when I found myself staring at the mirror. I put off an image that almost did not recognize, his face marked by the incessant passage of time, plenty of wires running down the gray hair I was the expression of autumn. But a slight smile, her lips stuck between two small brackets, drive out the bitter thoughts. That evening I had decided to feel good about myself: I had no alternative, with the kind reflected in the glass I had to just get along.
I got the stairs as slowly as not to understand if it was the desire to enjoy every moment to slow down or actually afraid to live that experience convinced me to try to hold me give up. I got into my car and the usual movements, now something as simple as automatic, I found myself on the road, dimly lit by dim street lights.
A wire tension kept me company, probably not justified. Our day goes by light, so are almost beyond impalpable. We make thousands of gestures and instinct, for some reason, it leads to agonizing search for at least another being to share our time, which is a moment or a lifetime. That evening, I had decided, fully aware, to live alone I felt at the same time courageous and out of place.
In the checkout line, I began to confront the other world, one where I usually dress. Maybe it was not really so, but I could see all files in two, and all apparently smiling and serene. I felt that just me thinking.
The monotonous voice of the girl sitting inside his cage horrible do not know where he croaked, "Please, tell me." I leaned forward slightly to get closer to the small black microphone attached to the wall of the cage. I had noticed a few minutes before, I was curious about what intelligence was behind the need to shut un'annoiata girl in a cage at the same time enable it to communicate with those outside - in one of many possible worlds - simply wanted to buy a movie ticket.
"The Ghost Writer, one, possibly on a top row, thanks." I admit that, perhaps for that thread of tension that did not want to leave me, my voice was slurred, indecisive and hasty.
voice locked but ingeniously escaped out of the walls, certainly indifferent to my moods, Jet said, "How?"
I pour into the microphone so that in those few seconds - so ran the troubled buy a movie ticket - I was convinced to live in another dimension: lost in a sunny field, totally immersed in silence, I saw speak not with a whole person, but with a huge mouth - I do not know - sitting on a chair with legs long and thin, nervously moving a device hidden beneath her sharp fingers. There were three: me, myself and the strange voice.
"One, thank you," I was responding.
"What I do not know?" Said the sharp voice of the cage.
"I told one," I confirm I heard sharp.
"Ah, I knew he did not know how many tickets he wanted to" smiling voice spoke.
For a moment I was tempted to slide his hand inside the small opening in which to spend the money and seize the arms, dragging her by force on the glass cage. But whatever you may think that a guy could ask for without knowing how many tickets?
put out the flames of hell that had suddenly ignited the field in which I saw myself talking to that stupid voice, managed to grab just in time, his last words: "But only one?"
"Yes, only one" I replied back to myself.
guffaw I heard my companion that evening, the tension that I did not understand where it came from but now I knew why keep me company: this is not the world for lonely people.
I stepped out of line, more and more clearly divided into two abreast, and with the sole desire to reach my chair, walked into the room.
I was again alone with myself. With a text message to a friend tried to set up my feelings: what best represents me at that time was "Weird." I felt really strange.
noise in the room that was animated, I reflected on why it appears so out of place one man. Who knows, maybe the human tendency to exclude anything that looks different, or perhaps instinctively associate with the loneliness is a problem, if not even dangerous.
The film has just finished. With one man hit by a speeding car, a murder of power, for power. A good film, I must admit.
I was with myself. It was not an easy one, but I thought it was even more complicated. I feel almost all complain about those times, for one reason or another, have to be alone with yourself. It also influenced by a past hectic, and my "me" faster and faster, I lived with this fear experience.
Instead, I go to bed peaceful. Knowing that this world is not lonely people. But, somewhere, there is always a half-open door to other worlds, tailored to each of us. Some call them dreams, I like to imagine even with your eyes open.
A single thought, a blanket by Julie for those who took part in her giveaway! You have until April 18, and it would be crazy not groped luck. The blanket is beautiful. Really made my heart!
"We must be as slow as an old train campaign and peasant women dressed in black, as if going to magically open up and see the world, why is walk through the book and instead run is to look only at the cover. We must be slow, loving stops to watch the progress made, to feel the fatigue as a conquering limbs melancholy, sweet envy anarchy than one who invents a time when the road.
must learn to stand on its own and wait for the silence , every now and be happy to have their hands in their pockets only. Go slow and see dogs without trample, is to give names to the trees, the angles, the light poles, is to find a bench, and brings in his own thoughts letting them emerge depending on the road, bubbles rising to the surface and that when they are loud bang and go to heaven to mingle. E 'provoke thought and designing unintentional, not the result of the purpose and intention, but the thought necessary, what is up alone, by agreement between mind and world.
go slowly and stop on a seafront on a beach, on a cliff polluted, burned on a hill this summer, go with the wind in a boat and go straight to zigzag . Go slow and learn the many differences in their form of life, the names of friends, colors, and the rains, the games and watching, the confidences and gossip. Going slow is the intermediate stations, the station-masters, the old baggage and toilets, gravel and small gardens, level crossings with people waiting, an old wagon with a young horse, a shortage that is not ashamed, a public fountain, with a blind eye hidden in the shade. Go slow and respect the time, live with few things of great value with boredom and nostalgia, with immense desires sealed and ready to explode in the heart, or because it is closely focused on the sky from a thousand prohibitions. Go slow and ruminating, imitate the look of infinite oxen, patient waiting for the dogs, knowing how to fill the day with a sunset, bread and olive oil. Go slow it is to have a big wardrobe for all dreams, with great stories for little travelers, theater cheering for mediocre actors, means a bus crushed by a hill, the desire through the eyes, a few words capable of living in the desert, the disappearance of the motley crowd of goods and the return of the great things necessary . go slow and be province without despair, sheltered from the main stage and closer to all the secrets.
Going slow is the philosopher of all, living at another speed, closer to the beginning and at the ends, where you experience the world's largest, as you enter it in or close to leave. Going slow means you can get without getting hurt, it means the world to thank, to do with it filled. There's more life in slow ten kilometers on foot in a route across the ocean that drowns you in designing your loneliness, in un'ingordigia who can not digest. It houses several others when you watch a dog, an exit from school, a glimpse at the balcony, in a fly, a fax, a internett.
This thought is the only slow thought, the other is the thought that used to operate the machine, which improves the speed, which thinks it can do so indefinitely. Since we must now walk to think about walking, slowly watching the houses, find out when they pile up it becomes vulgar, wish that they come back around to look at the sea . No Wisdom can come from the removal of waste. E 'by them, their accumulation, the world's industrial shit you have to share if you want to think about the future. The fast, the designing, conventioneers, journalists voraciously consuming the world and think about improving it. The slow speed can love, appreciate the infringement, to also feared if the violation contained in speed, but the desecration of the mass is wickedness with no value, a right universal outrage. Today you can live in a seaside town without being able to see . Franco Cassano, 1996
If you read these words too quickly, because this is your habit, go back and review it at the beginning. Slowly. Even try to record them on tape and listen to an iPod during a walk. You'll see things you've never seen, not because they had never been there, but only because he had never seen you. You will hear new sounds, as old as the world hear the screams of nature that lives around us slowly, you will discover how much we miss running. must go slow to return to our roots, to understand the future. Nobody wants that free men will walk on foot, think slowly. Everything must go quickly, we run more and less is reflected, the more you shake and you have less desire to understand. must go slow to browse the pages of our existence.
Many times they are not the words, and some of those times, someone has found them for you. Here, well, this is one of those times. I do not talk more about politics almost certainly do not want to start now. But the editorial by John De Mauro on internationalism million summarizes ideas expressed on the political left in Italy. Good reading.
"Ansa, April 1, 2010. Pier Luigi Bersani, the secretary of the Democratic Party, released the following statement:" I, like Veltroni, throw in the towel. I did not. I resign. But I asked the also resigned from all over the leadership of the party. It's time to make room for a new generation. We lack ideas, not people: we have hundreds of local elected young, honest and prepared, just waiting to put their enthusiasm to serve the country. We need to re-open sections, bring back the citizens, start talking with people. We were wrong to let the right and its leaders take progressively over: when we could still stop them, we have underestimated. It was a nonsense. We were wrong to overlook the true national emergencies: the fight against mafia and tax evasion, the development of the south, school and university, environment, economic policy in favor of women and young people . For this I apologize. Goodbye. " April Fool's Day. - Giovanni De Mauro
