There are events that all happen one after the other and they don’t seem to make any logical sense. Yet someone who manages to grasp a thread in certain signs can discover very interesting concatenations even managing to enter another unexplored world. A very strange and ironic Detective and an even stranger sidekick, looking for shocking clues.


Once upon a time there was a small oyster, it was small and black, the darkest in the ocean.
Everyone made fun of her: "You'll never be as beautiful as us"
The poor shell tortured itself and tried to find a way to resemble the others as much as possible, he couldn't bear the insults anymore.
So one day decided to roll away from his strip of sand, he rolled away until he reached another sea where he rested.
Its shell was now all ruined, the poor oyster had pushed beyond its capacity… it would never be as it once was. Other shells saw it, their reaction was the same, if not worse than that of the first ones: the oyster, however, was adamant, it would never change, but inside it was crying more and more. Until one day she felt an intense pain, so strong that she was forced to open. He did it slowly… without fear. When it was completely opened a pearl came out. The largest and most beautiful pearl that had ever been seen.
"Are you going to go now too?" He asked her for the oyster.
"And why on earth?" answered the pearl.
"Can't you see them? Look how ruined and discolored I am."
"I think you are beautiful ..."
The moved oyster asked her: "and why on earth?"
The pearl did not speak immediately, thought about it for a moment, then said: "Your every scratch, every stain and discoloration of yours is part of your story. Even when you are moving through the seas I was growing inside you. You carried me and the your body has modeled itself according to your needs, which is why you are beautiful.
The oyster, without saying a word smiled, his pearl was special He knew how to see beyond superficiality, beyond what everyone saw.
On the other hand, the pearl saw a different shell, not in a negative sense, she liked different.
And for this he already knew he loved her, even though the eyes of others saw her wrongly. Even the oyster loved her pearl, she was the only one who made her feel special.
Furthermore, it was not a white pearl like many others but a very rare black pearl, the most precious of all.


In a world that uses techniques, where the strongest wins, where photos are posted to appear happy so as to make others envious, where you have to hold a glass of alcohol in your hands to look interesting, where a naked butt wins instead of the honey … I SAY NO. I keep all my frailty, shiny eyes, pain and fatigue. We are living in the century where sex is free and love costs money, where losing your phone is worse than losing your values. Where smoking and drinking is fashionable and if you don’t, you are old Where men cheat on women with girls and women if they don’t cheat, it is because they fear being caught. Where the bathroom has become a photo studio. Where women fear pregnancy more than HIV. Where the pizza delivery service arrives before the ambulance. Where clothes decide a person’s value and having money is more important than having friends or even a family. Where children are able to give up their parents for their virtual “love”. Where men just want relationships without obligations Where love is a game and you only survive if you play with reason, and you are destroyed if you act with the heart.


Bones from the flow of dead bodies inside a dream of freedom.
Bones of dreams.
Closed eyes.
Dreams disclosed.
Missing at sea.
Desperate dreams.
Eaten by sea monsters.
Scraped from the bottom.
Bones ended up in fishermen's nets.
Run out of ropes,
they couldn't swim.
Living was the reason.
Surviving was the end.
Azzurra is the tomb of these gutted children.
They saw the horizon but couldn't catch it.
At dawn they found the bones inside the pots,
like jewels picked up by mistake.
I scream because they are still alive.
They await the right burial.
Little children with no future.


Evil has tried to touch my soul to block my energy.
But my soul is a divine fortress.
I breathe in the light, I carry the oceans within me.
No evil force can divide the power of water.
I am inside the light and even if they attack I remain still inside the miasphere of light.
Sharp swords enter the heart but God has foreseen every pain and crumbles every dark weapon against me.
I raise my face to the rays of the sun, I raise my hands to the sky, I invoke the divine power on all the Earth and I am sure that their footsteps will tremble, they will burn their weapons, they will stop spreading hatred.
I escaped the battle to remain whole and today will not be the end, but tomorrow I will attack Evil and you all be with me, standing, breathing hard, all together against murderous death.


Can a talent come out and face the world alone or is the presence of someone necessary to act as an intermediary? Schiele was a boy pathologically linked to his sister Gerti, whom he had portrayed naked in various portraits. He is not happy in school because the masters are considered by him to be all rough men. Encouraged by Strauch, the Klosternburg painter Max Kahrer and the Augustinian canon Wolfang Paker, in 1906 Schiele applied for admission to the Vienna Academy. So if it hadn't been for them, we might never have known his works.
Strauch refines the technique of the young Egon noting in the nervous ease of his sign an affinity with Klimt, which Schiele does not yet know. Schiele is not a model student and is only 16 when he pits against his teacher Griepenkernl. It is in the veneration for Klimt that youth rebellion against the teacher and against academic dogmatism must be interpreted. These are the years in which Gustav Klimt is at the height of his career. But while Klimt colors his pictorial works with strange mosaics, for Schiele the painting represents the conflict between life and death. From this moment on his figures begin the phase of deformation. At this stage his design becomes harsh and suffering. The formal tension is entrusted to broken, broken and angular lines. Klimt's dream is shattered for Schiele. In Schiele we find suffering. The characters portrayed by him are no longer human beings but rigid mannequins forced into disjointed and unnatural poses. The bodies thus transformed are the artist's conscious attempt to use limbs, arms, hands and bodies to highlight inner emotions.
The decisive meeting for his entire artistic career took place in 1907 in the Café Museum in Vienna. Klimt's strong personality influences him tremendously. A further element brings the two men closer: the interest in depicting the naked body and both male and female sexuality. Gustav Klimt will also have great esteem for Schiele: he undertakes to help his friend, through the purchase of drawings, providing him with models, introducing him to some wealthy patrons, who assured him a certain financial peace of mind right from his beginnings on the Viennese art scene and ensuring that in 1908 Schiele could hold his first solo exhibition for the Wiener Werkstätte.
After a period spent in prison on an accusation of immoral conduct, as the painter used naked children as models for his works, disappointed by this bad experience, Schiele decides to return to Vienna. Thanks to his friend Klimt, he managed to obtain several commissions in a short time, returning to the fore on the Austrian art scene and participating in many international exhibitions. His works of the period are numerous, mostly self-portraits and portraits. The figures are usually naked, in unusual poses that tend to lead to caricature; the tormented figure recalls both death and eroticism.
So in the end I ask myself: if Egon Schiele hadn't had the help of all these people, and especially Klimt, would he have been able to show everyone his talent?


On January 3, 1892, J. R. R. Tolkien was born. His fantasy works, imbued with a very deep spiritual meaning, reveal the great faith that has accompanied this man throughout his life. He himself defined The Lord of the Rings, his masterpiece, as a religious and Catholic work. Very devoted to Our Lady and a lover of traditions, he gave his son Christopher, who was at war, a precious advice: to place all his hopes in the Blessed Sacrament. His Catholic faith cost Tolkien’s family not a little in Anglican England: his mother, who was widowed and converted to Catholicism as an adult, was abandoned by her family. She was forced to work hard to support her children, to whom she knew how to transmit her faith with words and above all by example. Also due to the conditions of poverty and hardship in which he found himself, he died very young, when Tolkien was only ten years old. But the testimony of faith of this strong and courageous mother did not fail even with death: in fact she had asked a priest to raise her children, because she feared that if they went to live with her relatives, they would be forced to abandon Catholicism and become Protestants. Tolkien never forgot his mother’s very strong and consistent faith, and he himself was often the object of prejudice and discrimination in the world of work because of his being a Catholic. No persecution, however, could distract him from the true treasure. To the point that Tolkien’s testimony of faith played a very important role in the conversion of another great writer who was his friend: C.S. Lewis, author of The Chronicles of Narnia.


Walk around the world as if it were not extinct elsewhere.
Don’t be competent, don’t try to prove yourself – it’s not necessary. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do anything useful.
Do your thing, but I know the greatest and most real life experiences are in existing.
We see through poetry, painting, love, meditation.
Only greater joy will be able to do something that cannot be reduced to a market.
A reward is spiritual, internal, and manifested by energy.
So if you feel worthless, don’t worry.
You can become a huge tree with a large crown.
And we have to start waving our branches.
We are stronger than them,
we are stronger than any nuclear warhead.
We are eternal stars.
We do not bow under power.
We bring the light to the other place.


I am shy and introverted

and I'm always on the sidelines

because I am always afraid of disturbing

and if I feel bad about something, I remain silent.

I never speak, because I am afraid of disturbing

and it takes too long to ask for help

and then I immediately change the subject

because I'm afraid of being bored.

I am shy and introverted

and I am on my own very often

and I smile and nod and I hardly say what I think

and what I have inside

I leave it to my eyes

'For those who want to understand you

he can understand you even when you don't speak

he can understand you when you look at you,


in the eyes.

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