A BIG MESS

It happens like this, that sometimes I think of you randomly and I come back to mind, while I try to live and waste time, your memory is a bit confused but it is there and it happens that I review everything we have been through together, which is little, but you do not know how much a person like me is able to feed on crumbs and believe that it will be forever it happens that I lose heart if I think of you and I have lost you but what can I do, what could I do then, I wonder what I could give you more than what it was and the answer is that I’m sorry because I showed you who I was with my sweetest side, perhaps the one that so few have seen, that I hadn’t seen myself until you. it happens that sometimes, so late at night, it occurs to me how you held me that night in your arms and how my head sank into your neck and how little I cared if my hair was swollen and my legs not long and skinny but you liked them anyway and you always put your hands in my hair repeating how beautiful they were and I remember the feeling of your mouth on mine and even the sound of that kiss that we exchanged so many times, it echoes in mine it lies like a snap and makes more and more noise, more and more until it happens it happens that thinking of you starts to hurt me, and I feel a little dying and a little sad because we no longer exist, you and I it happens that I have to delete the images and slow down the heartbeat that could burst it happens that so randomly I think of you and I would like to know if you are okay, send you a message but I have deleted your number and then I can only think of you without looking for you without looking for those who do not want to be found, and it happens that sometimes life is just a big mess.

FREE YOUR BOOK

Once upon a time, in the tram as in the bus, train or subway, you could see dozens and dozens of newspapers and books; today there are very few people with these two objects in their hands. Turn around and you will see that the people around you are locked up in their world holding a smartphone, tablet or mp3 player.

What would happen if, returning from work, your eye stopped on the cover of an abandoned book on a subway seat, on a bench at the bus stop, on the train, on a table in a bar ... or anywhere else you can to imagine..?!?

I bet you would try to snatch the title, maybe you would feel a little embarrassed, but opening the book you would find an unknown voice speaking to you. And suddenly everything would stop:

Take me, take me away with you! If you're holding me in your hands it's because you had to be the one to find me. I am a Free Book, I don't have a home and I don't belong to anyone in particular: I belong to those who want to read me. To those who love to read. Take me, make me yours ... and then, if you want, abandon me again. Let others also know the story I have to tell; or read me and keep me along with the other books in your personal library, on your shelves, until someone, again, wants to read me.
You will see: it will be a great trip!

Read it, free it, give it away, do what you want with it ... and then, if you like, write your story here: tell where you found it, what you thought, if you liked it, what you felt in reading it.

So if you have a book written by you, free it, leave it there on a seat, on the sofa, let someone find it, write on the cover "TAKE ME AND READ ME". Who knows who will read it.

RISE FROM THE EARTH

Divine Mother, majestic land in which we are all born,
forget our karma,
sparkles of radiant lives,
you, divine light brighter than the sun,
golden water.
Where the petals open our spring,
rise from the end of the black age.
Magnify the heart,
amplify love,
becomes birth again.
Mother of us all,
blue flame of the sky,
defeat the color of Death.
Open your roses,
stretch out your hands,
scatter your heart inside the branches,
fruit be given to each weary breath.
Lady of the golden earth
walk with your feet
over the terrible devils and kill them all.

A LITTLE HUGH

I feel a little sad this evening because I realize that I am a little creature in the face of things we have always struggled with: time, death, love, destiny, life in general, injustices, evil, suffering etc. etc. I feel a little crying because I know that this life is as beautiful as it is sad and we have so little time that sometimes we waste it without realizing it. We could say that we really love that person who has been around us for a long time, we could help that someone because more unfortunate than us without being overwhelmed by arrogance and selfishness, we could decide for once to improve someone’s life because (yes never knows) that that person hasn’t been smiled in a long time. We could teach someone to walk on their own legs, even if they need a little nudge at first, we could just hug each other a little bit more without adding a word too much, because the power of a warm hug is often underestimated. We could do many things that we don’t do, but still remain in the memory of those who have us, each in their own small way, loved until the end. Each of us, as can.

PRAYING TOGETHER

I have read and heard that some friends and acquaintances also organize online prayer and meditation groups for this difficult time. They are good if that can make them feel better. I have personally stopped praying in public since I left the Catholic Church. For me, prayer is an intimate relationship with a harmony that has no face, voice, location or figuration whatsoever; it is an opening to the transcendent that can only be expressed with interior silence. The prayers that the religious have taught us and are read in every mysticism, serve to create that atmosphere that makes us feel the sense of the transcendent beyond any philosophy taught. I believe that even today they can serve to understand that beyond the didactic dictates, there is the voice of the heart and the strength of the feeling that is stimulated by the poetry of the words, if we know how to listen to them and if we find them in ourselves. Thus praying becomes simple and doing it in a group is possible only if the harmony between people manages to create that mystical inspiration that prayers suggest. What their purpose is is indicated by the feeling that can express them, certainly not by the mind that wishes.

STORY OF THE BEST FRIENDS

I saw you again and I didn’t come to meet you. You were my best friend and now I don’t even know who you are anymore, I don’t know what you do, I don’t know if you’re engaged, I don’t know if you cry, I don’t know if you and your mother have made peace. We said goodbye in silence, when I greeted you I knew it would be for the last time. Nobody, you know, has ever said goodbye to me without my knowing it before, maybe I pretended not to, but I knew very well when the end had begun. It was with you when I told you that I had met a man and in the following months I have not cried for any quarrel I had with him. I didn’t call you to tell you he was a jerk, as he usually did. When you asked me how he was doing with him, I replied that it was okay, that for once, I had nothing to tell. I didn’t have the classic stories from “he didn’t call me and then I didn’t call him either and now we haven’t heard from each other for days”. It’s okay, I told you. It’s not possible, you replied. You believed that my good was also fiction, that I was lying to myself, that it was not me and I agreed with you “you will see that one day we would be here talking about it, about yet another man with mental disorders that I had”. But the days turn into months. And the months became twelve. And in that year I changed, changed for him you insinuated, my red hair had become blonde, my clothes were completely different. And instead, if we were still friends, you would have had proof of how wrong you were. You would have seen me buy six bottles of shower gel with the smell he hates, because it doesn’t matter, I like them. You would have seen me save money for a tattoo that he didn’t call too good. You would have known that when he told me he prefers blond I went to get myself a copper red tint. You would have known that I have a skirt that he defines as an old woman. I have always remained of the opinion that the best shopping you can do is with a friend. You never understood that he would never take your place. You did not understand that if they had asked me which “forever” I believed, I would have answered, without a doubt, between two friends and not between two boyfriends. I really believed in it when I told you that I wanted to share a house with you, so similar to me. And a thousand times I told you that if you wanted to talk over a coffee, Saturday would never be sacred to me. I would never have been the one of “I can’t on Saturdays” but “now we organize ourselves”. We had been friends for ten years and no man would ever replace that friendship. But you decided it wasn’t true and I have too much dignity to beg for love and friendship from a person who doesn’t want me anymore. And so gradually, our conversations became colder, almost circumstantial. I never looked for you and you did the same to me. The worst of clichés. But I don’t forget and I will never be mad at you. I will be nostalgic. There have been too many good things between us to make me angry. There are calls that lasted hours, I was on my cell phone, I hate it, so much alone with you. There have been whole afternoons at the Castello Sforzesco, walking through the park in autumn, not knowing how to dress in spring, complaining about the heat and then watching the snow. For years, many years. I saw you cut your long hair into short and then regret it. I felt you tired with a job that took you all day and I was close to you when you were without a job and you felt sad. I saw you in love with a wrong man and I didn’t tell you anything, I waited for you to notice. I would have been there. We spent the New Year in a taxi because, as usual, we had made up our minds on what to do at the last minute. We spent another New Year among the people and the following New Year instead at your house watching movies. You were there when they told me on the phone that my fears were correct and that he was cheating on me. You saw me change, not a man, you saw me completely lost after my first relationship and then you saw me completely lucid and merciless at the umpteenth relationship gone bad. You were there with me in the disco and you were there when our evenings became quieter and the evening ended with an aperitif and it was no longer going on all night. It was you, not a man. No boyfriend would take your place. I didn’t come to meet you because I didn’t want to destroy what was left of you.

I’M A PRISONER OF ITALIAN STATE

I was screaming all the time, but no one heard me. I was looking for help with my eyes among passers-by, friends, people with whom I spoke. But I insisted, I screamed until I lost my voice of strength.
Nobody heard me, nobody hears me.
Did I accept being a prisoner of the state?
It was 6:30 pm, my "hour of air" was over and I was forced to return to that cell, which is more commonly called "home". I am not a prisoner of mental schemes, religions, internal systems. I am a refugee in my home. I'm a white prisoner kept alive only because I pay taxes and buy food. We are statues without a weapon, without a body but with a drama.
Prisoners of a system that leaves us alone with no air.
All I want is to breathe, to really live, to feel free to really be myself. But the state owns my life. He can say what I can and cannot do. He can tell where I can and can't go. It is now forbidden for me to live. My life has been turned upside down and I am traumatized.

STOP THIS DESTRUCTION OF FREEDOM

I CAN NO LONGER JOIN THE BANK. 

I CAN NO LONGER ENTER THE POST. 

I CANNOT ENTER THE STORES ANY MORE. 

I CAN NO LONGER TAKE AN AIR BUS OR TRAIN OR PLANE.

I AND MILLIONS OF OTHER UNVACCINATED PEOPLE HAVE LOST ALL FREEDOM.

THIS GOVERNMENT CARES ABOUT MAN'S RIGHTS.

THIS GOVERNMENT HAS TRAMPED ALL OUR RIGHTS.

OUR FIGHT IS STILL ACTIVE BUT EVERY DAY A PIECE OF LIFE IS TAKEN FROM US.

DRAGHI CONTINUES TO PUT RULES AGAINST US.

90% OF THE ITALIAN POPULATION IS VACCINATED BUT THE VACCINES DID NOT WORK.

HOSPITALS ARE FULL OF VACCINATED PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN INFECTED BY THE OMICRON VIRUS VARIANT.

VACCINES WERE A BANKRUPTCY BUT THE ITALIAN GOVERNMENT DOES NOT WANT TO ADMIT ITS MISTAKES AND CONTINUES TO TAKE OFF US FREEDOM WITHOUT ANY REASON.

THE VACCINATES WENT AROUND, THEY WENT TO PARTIES, EVENINGS, RESTAURANTS, CINEMA AND EVERYWHERE. THEY ARE INFECTED AND THE GOVERNMENT IS TO BLAME US. BUT WE, NOT VACCINATED, WE ALL STAYED AT HOME, WE CAN'T GO AROUND, WE CAN'T GO ANYWHERE.

THEY TAKEN THE FREEDOM TO LIVE.
( the picture say: it's better todie free than live as slaves)  

FINDING THE DAWN IN THE HOLE OF THE HEART

Panic attacks are awful. They come to you like this, without a reason. So at any moment you are in another dimension; you don’t know where you are; stay still you panic. You tremble. You breathe little and you feel bad, you feel death, heart attack…. you feel bad and you have to go through everything alone. But then the breath comes back, you could survive again. I’m not sure where I find all this strength. Destiny has always had a great sense of humor, she enjoys doing strange things and making people suffer, she plays with them as if they were puppets, and we can’t help but stand still and watch. I dreamed of pink sunrises over the sea. I saw them all but fate took them away. The black sea remained, deep, and I could not go down there to get wet and drown. Even when we were born we actually died, we went to a completely different dimension, and we suffered, it wasn’t easy, our life at that moment ended and we were transported to another dimension. If you think about it when we are in the belly it is not defined earthly life, it is life inside the placenta, therefore the ‘placental’ life ceases. Who tells us that after earthly life there is no life in another temporal dimension? I can be here but enter another timeline when I’m sick. Destiny has taken my pink dawns but the blue sea covers my body, it flies blue and I am happy in the sea.

ASK FOR JUSTICE

One wonders what origins the sense of justice has, if it is typical only of man, what is meant by justice and if it has a common denominator for all. By asking friends and acquaintances, I collected different answers: there are those who say that it is something inherent in the human being, those who affirm that it is a social convention for a good coexistence. All this does not satisfy me because if I think of justice over the centuries I see that what was once right is no longer right now; what is right with some peoples is not right with others. For the Romans it was right that there were slaves considered as inferior beings; for other peoples the law of retaliation or the low consideration of women was just; for some ethnic groups it is right to offer one’s wife to the guest, to mutilate the girls; dictatorial regimes believe torture and mass executions are just. So justice has a social but also strictly individual character: in a group of people there are those who believe it is right to act in one way or in another. The yardstick of punishments is also noticeably different in societies: what for some is a light sentence for others is a serious sentence (eg cutting off the thief’s hand). Religions too, like States have formulated laws on a concept of justice that is not the same for everyone. respect for the property of others, honesty … The mere fact of smoking, for example, is an unfair action because it ruins the body and the wallet; keeping a child who takes drugs and does not want to work is not right but fortunately justice can be united with charity (understood not as alms but as mercy, goodness of heart). Justice is the foundation of mercy (there is no mercy if there is no first justice as mercy is also justice and it is right to be merciful, charitable). Being charitable is the perfected and sublime way to be righteous. On reflection, even forgiveness without mercy becomes an injustice. For everyone it is right to try to stay in peace but only those who use charitable justice are able to avoid quarrels even at the cost of personally losing. This may not always be necessary, indeed, defending the weak and whoever suffers abuse is a duty for everyone, an act of justice that no one can escape from. In the world the most frequent job is that of the judge because, even if they do not work in the courts, men issue dozens of sentences daily against others and they are often sentences of conviction. Human justice can make mistakes, follow likes or dislikes, issue sentences only to avoid annoyances but true justice, more than from the civil code, comes from the heart.

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