It is not easy to explain, to open up, to write with your heart in your hand. Especially if done publicly. No, it is not at all. But, I got bored. I have reached the limit. This is why I decided to go to the beach. The place where I can scream, cry, despair, destroy myself. Immediately after looking at the sea and feeling alive again. The only place that reminds me of home. It is while I am sitting here that I write, it seems to help me. In front of me I have an expanse of blue waters, a sea that hurls itself against rocks, waves that wet the sand and are then claimed again by their master. And the wind that cradles me, gently, like a caress, while the ink stains the white paper. I'm here to write something, something too much. I am here because people listen little and perhaps by reading they will understand more.
During these years I have met many, but many people. Galore, I'd say. But, how many are left? I look around and I wonder too. Almost no one. It is said that the ones that remain are the most important. There have been some people who have remained, yet only until recently. The rest, all in passing, after making you believe the existence of the unknown. Get out, go, run away. Like a shadow in the night. A trail in the sky. A flash in front of the eyes. They weren't even afraid of being infected with a deadly disease.
And now, I still wonder how long this story will last. What do you think I am? A cigarette that you can light, smoke and then throw away? A dirty glass to leave at the bar, to wash and reuse? Or a simple mat on which you can clean your shoes, easily replaceable?
I am human. I am made of flesh and bones, too. And I have a heart. Is it so difficult to believe? I have a heart reduced to infinite microscopic pieces.
Because I too have feelings, I too would like to trust those around me, I too am afraid of losing people. I can hide it. I did it. And it didn't help. People just felt entitled to hurt me even more. More and more. They don't give up. They don't give up until they see you bleed, crawl. "She doesn't care anyway, she never cares." Who knows if they really believe what they say.

The truth is that I am not infallible, that weakness is within me, it lives within me. I fight it every damn day, every single moment. Weakness leads me on dark roads, dark thoughts. Only my head knows how horrible some have been. It pushes me to make absurd decisions. Weakness is a strong rival. Unbeatable. As strong as I may seem, as strong as I may believe I am, I easily collapse when my roots are uprooted from the soil.
The truth is that every time it is more and more destructive, that it is not true that sooner or later you reach the point where nothing hurts you anymore, nothing touches you anymore, nothing demoralizes you. It is not true that we become imperturbable by everything, it is not true that we finally come to live in apathy. Those are all fairy tales. We create apathy by ourselves, as an escape from feelings. As an escape from ourselves, we lie to each other. We delude ourselves. We screw ourselves. And, we get to the point of believing that the best choice is indifference. It is not true. It is not so. Being indifferent is not the best weapon. Being indifferent is the most destructive weapon. It destroys you inside, slowly. It consumes you without restraint.


It has become increasingly difficult to exchange ideas and dialogue with others. The covid has made everyone more closed, dumb, lost, confused.
Human contact has been lost, solidarity, harmony, the desire to chat about this and that, greet, share one's existence with others, stay together in harmony.
If we were alone before now we are even more so. The only purpose of all is love or sex, there is no longer friendship, selfless knowledge, agape, communion. I used certain religious words at the end because even those who said they had great faith have lost it and are now more lost than others. I see the desperation of a crisis that is getting deeper and deeper and a government that requires more and more sacrifices and the people are tired and have fallen silent.


Scientific research has indicated that the butterfly is the only life that is capable of entirely changing its genetic structure during the transformation process. Hence, it is the symbol of total transformation.
The butterfly represents a need for change and greater freedom and at the same time represents courage: one requires the courage to make the necessary changes in the course of development. Its medicine is related to the air and mental powers. It teaches us to find clarity in mental processes, to organize projects or to calculate outward the next step in our internal development.

If the butterfly is your medicine animal, or if you feel attracted to it in any way, that means you are waiting to undergo some kind of transformation. Examine which phase calls your attention the most: the egg is the beginning, the birth of some project or idea. The larva is the decision to manifest something in the physical world. Cocoon is about "going inside", with understanding or developing the project or idea. Breaking the cocoon means that you are ready for change and in harmony with the whole world. Once you understand the phase you are on, you can discover and experience the sacred way with butterfly medicine.



In the past he was the servant / soldier who guarded the tribe's homes and protected them from the surprise of a sudden attack. The Dog helped during hunts and during cold winters when there was no horse yet. It is a symbol of loyalty, unconditional love, protection and service. Its medicine embodies the loving kindness of the best friend and the protective energy of the guardian.
If your medicine animal is the dog, your devotion to your family and friends is endless. You get great satisfaction from showing service to others, by offering your hand to a friend in need. A kind word, a caress, an average act of kindness much more to you than material things. However, there is a risk of coming too close to the other side: allowing people to take advantage of you because of your gentle nature.

The dog reminds you that your loyalty should always be to her, to your own truth. It reminds you that respecting and honoring all that God has done will allow you to lead a clean life by following the sacred way.


When I went to Canada on vacation and went on the street in NewMarket, people said hello, everyone talked to me and everyone was kind and friendly. The same thing doesn't happen here, why? What happened to the Italians?


The snow was falling in large, wide flakes as she struggled to move, sinking into the fresh snow. She raised her head, covered by the hood she had raised in an attempt to protect herself, and watched the house on the hill glow in the night. He pulled a large cloak against his body and kept walking until he reached the door.
When she entered the room she found herself enveloped in warmth. With a sigh he lowered the hood.
"Was it really necessary?" She asked the woman who, sitting in the armchair in front of the lit fireplace, was looking at her.
"Mmm ..." Only the woman muttered, as she stood up and walked over to an old turntable.
Music filled the air as a counterpoint to the sound of fir logs burning in the fire.
Outside, the snow storm did not seem to want to stop raging, but there, in that room, everything seemed to be quiet and harmony. The contrast was striking.
He took off his cloak and hung it on the side of the door, then walked over to the fire and stretched out his hands towards its warmth. She might also know that this place, that bubble, was just dream magic, it wasn't real, yet her brain kept telling her she was cold after climbing the hill in the snowstorm.
“You knew it was going to happen. It was inevitable. " He said, turning towards the woman.
The record was spinning, playing an old song: a female voice telling of a lost love.
"Unavoidable." The woman murmured. "I'll kill him." He then added and the way he said it contained no inflection, it was not a threat, it was simple reality.
"No you will not." She said, approaching her and wrapping her arms around her, leaning her face against the woman's back. "You'll resist, you'll watch him touch me, while you can't even touch my skin, you'll watch him marry me when you can't even talk to me, you'll watch him possess me, when you can't even ..." eyes and placed two fingers on her lips, stopping her.
"How silly." He murmured, his eyes closed. "The betrothed of the king and his court sorceress ..." He opened his eyes to look at her, and they were splendid green eyes, the green eyes that he had sought in his sleep that first night and that had attracted her there, in that bubble in which they had talked, for the first time and for many more nights after that.
"My chains and my freedom." The woman countered, a smile on her lips, the song rang out its last verses, so bitter yet so beautiful, so desperate and yet so sweet. "He can do what he wants with my body, he will never have my heart."
He saw the woman's eyes stiffen again and then surrender as she lifted herself up on her toes to kiss her.
"This dream will be enough for me, this fiction will be my reality and, out there, just a bad nightmare, from which I will wake up in your arms." The snowstorm stopped howling and in the night there was only the sound of the crackling fire in the fireplace and the scratching of the tip on the turntable.


Sometimes it seems to me that all the suffering of this old house enters me. And also the pain of these places.
Even in P ... I felt filled with pain but it wasn't my pain, it came from something in the house. Also in L ...., I changed when I moved home. In C's apartment ... there was something that then blocked me.
Strange things happened to P ... and to S ... too.
It is as if you absorb the negative energies present in a place.
I don't know if there is a place where there is no negative energy. A place where no people died and there were no wars and sufferings.
But I'm not sure if that's the place. I believe this because it is my feeling. Even in V ..... I saw things that were not beautiful and we were stuck.

Or maybe I have it inside and it causes me problems. So I don't know what to think.
Even though PE was a new house, it was on land full of dead.
I don't know if it's something that comes from the dead or something inside the earth or something astral.
I don't know how to investigate to understand it well.
We often go somewhere and forget why we went there, as if someone told us to go there without giving us explanations, as if someone was whispering to us where to go but not what to do and then suddenly stopped, leaving a deathly silence.
It is said that in reality it is not the whispers that stop but it is we who wake up from a kind of trans.

It is also said that if, unfortunately, we did not wake up, the whispers would lead us to do things that go far beyond the human imagination, they would take total control of our person and, finally, they would let us go but with a considerable weight on us. ..madness.
So I tell you honestly that I don't know exactly what I do from midnight to three in the morning. I don't find myself on the bed but somewhere else. I never remember how I got there. Sometimes I even find myself away from home. Am I sleepwalking?

I only remember that I hear these whispers, since I was a child, and I follow them, I follow them and then I don't know where I go and what I find. Will I find myself? Every time I look in the mirror and it doesn't look like me. I have these very dark eyes. But I don't have black eyes in reality. Who is watching me then?
This house was only rented one more time, 10 years ago, by 3 people I know nothing about except the fact that while they were here things happened that the landlady gave a rational reading, but to which I, in light of what has happened to me, I am beginning to give a different reading. The landlady in fact says that these people have pulled the curtains and destroyed the stove, but the strange thing is that she talks very quietly saying that they were very good people, who otherwise left the house better than they found it. The landlady was not at all "burned" by having rented the house to them (in fact it often happens that students dismantle the houses they rent and the owners decide not to rent it anymore) on the contrary, she was very happy with this experience and not he rented it more by chance (strange said by those who saw a hob destroyed by 3 tenants).

This house dates back to the 1800s and has an antique parquet floor accompanied by creaking and sinister noises of sorts. For the first month I had no problem other than getting used to a somewhat kitschy house with creepy paintings, antique furniture and porcelain dolls hung on the wall by the neck. Then suddenly strange things began to happen that in themselves are nothing special but put together they scared us enough. 

I will try to summarize them briefly, as far as possible, and I will tell you about the most disturbing ones. One night I was chatting with a friend of mine whobizarre to say it) certainly has a sixth sense, in the sense that his dreams are now mathematical that come true (experimented dozens of times), he often says phrases like "think if this happens now" and this happens regularly (this too lived dozens of times) and has omens when something is about to happen. This is to tell you that it is not a random person who told me certain things. Already on the first day I took a picture in the hallway of the house and (full day without sun, windows and doors closed) on a completely free and flat wall you could see in the photo a strange image looked like that of a bright white cloth hanging on the wall and left to hang. But we laughed about this and thought no more about it. Until that day.
In the afternoon of that day I noticed some strange things in the house: the glass bottles that I had put aside to throw away disappeared, various creaks and gusts of wind which, however, I had not given too much weight to. In the evening as I said, this colleague of mine contacts me in chat asking me if everything was going well, because in the afternoon she had a strange feeling (she suddenly turned to a friend of ours saying "I have a bad feeling, I have to call her").

I then told her what was happening also to get some advice since obviously she is interested in this kind of thing and she told me that it is not nice if the light bulbs start to burn out, for example. Having said that, within a few seconds everything in the house went crazy: I was cooking something in the oven and an oven locking device was activated, impossible to find (I did not even know it was there) and to unlock, the scale went crazy ( it was random numbers and it's not electric), and the light bulb above me went out. That same night I heard a noise in the kitchen and when I went to see I turned on a light, there was another noise and the light bulb in the hall went out. 

From that day on I started to feel and find stranger and stranger things. During the day and at night I hear the sound of footsteps, the parquet in another part of the house creaking or making sudden clicks as if two boards were being struck together, I hear knocking on the window and on the walls. One morning I heard fast, shuffling footsteps (like someone dragging slippers) going from my side of the bed to the door. Then one day while I was in the bathroom I heard a labored breathing a few centimeters from my ear (obviously I didn't see anyone when I turned around). 

I was alone in the house and I felt my back touched, as if someone were calling me. We feel observed and suddenly I see shadows passing very quickly either on the ceiling, outside the shower or elsewhere. I felt nauseating smells localized in points of the house such as in the center of the living room or in the center of the bed (no bathroom or similar) that disappeared one step away. Several times I found the wardrobe wide open, with the windows closed so no drafts, being sure I had closed it. I found open a cabinet that was locked. And yesterday, last thing, same noise as the first time in the kitchen, corridor light on and another bulb that starts with a snap. foreigner not knowing the rules of the place, then I did not find anything.

Not in the sense that nothing happened in the house, in the sense that I didn't find the house at all. This last thing may depend on me, on my inexperience with the land registry.

One of the hypotheses we have made is that the previous tenants have had a séance and this spirit has never gone away ... if it is a spirit ...


They want us to accept the presence of robots that will increasingly take the place of human beings. Incredible models were exhibited at the World Robot Conference 2022, the world robotics event in Beijing. The city has hosted more than 500 products, all of which are well received. Of course, no one says that such robots will take the place of humans. Within twenty years, there will be 25% fewer jobs. But no one will tell you that the presence of robots will increase human unemployment.


People often confuse love with cages.

With the "no" shouted in the morning, and which often echo throughout the day.

With the disappointed face of someone who sees you reach your goals, but is not happy for you.

I often wonder what love is, I know it in many forms, but it sure isn't that.

Depriving a human being of his or her freedom can never get anywhere near the greatness of this feeling.

The heart in the throat, the eyes shining with happiness when you see the other person happy, the beats that increase when you touch your hands and observe yourself minutely, this looks a little more like us.

Spurring the other person to grow, to make difficult choices, to go out with other people, to know the world even without you, this is another level, this is pure love.

Jealousy is love within its limits, it is love as long as it remains a game, as long as it is limited to cute adolescent phrases that we carry with us a little because we don't want to grow up and a little because life has taught us that no one will stay with us forever. , and the terror of being alone grips us.

But our fears do not allow us to deprive those around us of their freedom, man is a social animal, Aristotle said it and I firmly repeat it in the twenty-first century.

Being terrified of greeting someone when you are in the company of our so-called "love" is not normal.

Just as there are not constant scenes that come even if another person looks at you, as if you are to blame or that he had to gouge out his eyes.

Love, love, love, much praised and much hated.

You realize this "love" has only hurt you when you look for yourself and you can't find it anymore.

And it's too late, because you fell into it.

After all, today you understand and tomorrow you will return from that love, because you are no longer into it, it is enough now it eats you alive.

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