STORY OF “MUM MUM”

Mum mum do you know what? 
She suddenly exclaimed.
" Oh Honey, tell me, tell me! "
" You know, today I was in the park with my grandparents and while I was on the swing I saw Martina arrive, you know not? That little girl I like so much. She was really beautiful, she wore a floral dress and had her hair pulled back in a simple bun. As soon as I saw her I ran to her and asked her if she would like to come with me under the big chestnut tree, the one in the center of the playground. At first she blushed but then she accepted and I felt so happy. And do you know why I asked her to go there with me? "
" Let's see ... you know I don't know Darling, you tell me, I'm curious! "- Mom followed." 
I asked her because I wanted to tell her something ... well it's been a long time since I've been whirling around in my head but I've never found the courage to let him know and face to face ... I'm ashamed ahaha. I wanted to ask her if she wanted to be my sweetheart. But ... not really like children, I want her to be My girlfriend and I want to treat her as dad does with you and grandfather does with grandmother. 
I want to take her for a walk around the country hand in hand, I want to buy her a big big puppet so at night she can hold it and remember me, I want to tell her every day how beautiful she is, I want to protect her like grown-ups do, like dad does, I want to do everything like he! He is my hero! ".
" But love, but it's a fantastic idea, I'm so proud of you! But ... may I know what she replied? "
The mother asked anxiously.
" Well ... she told me she would let me know the answer tomorrow, when we would meet again at the little park. So at the moment I don't know if that's a yes or a no. Obviously I hope in the first one, I would be really happy! ".
" Honey, look, you can go sure it will be a good yes, you know we women are like that, a little ... 
how to say we always make you on your toes, but in the end always worth it. Trust mom. It will go great! But now go to brush your teeth and then go to bed that we have to resume the routine that soon starts school and then tomorrow will be a great day, hahaha. Come on, go to bed ".
" Okay mom, but tomorrow morning I wake up early that I have to make myself beautiful, I have to put on the gel, dress well, put on perfume ... "
" Honey, she will look at this: your little heart. And if he beats hard then he'll tell you yes, she certainly won't care how you are outside, but how you are inside! Up to bed! "
"What a hurry to go to bed tonight!" 
Thought the child. 
"It never happened ...". 
The lights in the house go out, you can only hear the crickets and cicadas out there in the fields and a few people for the town who are already waiting for the party next weekend. Summer atmosphere. Peace and quiet around. "Oh right, tomorrow morning I must also remember to take her a rose from the garden, a beautiful fragrant and beautiful red. I can't wait!" 
The child thought again in bed, now on the way to sleep. 3.38 marks the alarm. The house is shaking. 
"What's going on?"
He wonders. 
"I've never felt the house move so much ... oh maybe it's Superman who came to town! Ahaha, he's so powerful he makes everything move. I even drew it on the locker at school. Or maybe it will be the disonaurs. that return, Batman, the superheroes ... but dad will think about saving me whatever happens, he is my Hero! This is how the life of that splendid child ended ... with his mind immersed in the world of fantasy, competing with those who had arrived in the village. No superheroes, no dinosaurs, no superpowers ... all the power of Nature had made itself felt in the village. And he, now under the rubble, I'm sure he was smiling while waiting for his favorite hero to come and save him. He left this world smiling I am sure, dreaming yes but with constant thought about the next day. Who knows if Martina would have said yes, who knows if she would have liked the rose, who knows how many moments they still had to live together. It all ended there. That yes never came, that playground is no longer there and that child is no longer there either. But I'm sure he left us with a smile. But I'm less sure if her dad and mom did the same. Perhaps they understood that no superhero had arrived in the city, but Nature. And I think maybe there was no smile on their faces ... but only tears, tears of those who would soon leave this world. "

LILITHA

In short, one day you wake up and decide to do Zac-Zac. Dry branches must be cut. On the contrary, you also realize that you have procrastinated enough, because usually one does the cleaning in the spring. I have in front of me the scene of that huge tree growing in the courtyard garden of my building: It was beautiful, luxuriant, I thought I loved it because it was like a cover. It protected the view on my living room, it protected from the prying and often too intrusive eyes of the surrounding windows. And in the darkness of winter nights it stood threatening with its bare branches. He was like a guardian, who could become vaguely disturbing when needed, but I was fond of him. So fond of it that when I woke up one day in April and it was gone, for half an hour I stared at the balcony feeling lost. 

They said it had become "unsustainable": too many leaves were dragging themselves away on the windowsills, too many insects flew around. It had gotten too tall, too bulky, it was TOO. And its branches, which seemed so strong to me, were actually completely gone. And so, zac zac, the tree was gone and I found myself face to face with the sky. And it was extraordinarily blue. Although the tree was no longer there, the new reality beyond my balcony did not mind at all. It all seemed more airy, freer, less tight. The sun penetrated more closely and the feared prying eyes weren't so prying.

Maybe sometimes we convince ourselves that certain situations are right this way, without trying to give us an alternative. We convince ourselves that without certain things our life would not be as beautiful, we impose on ourselves real emotional addictions, clinging to them, thinking that they are the only way, the only thing that can make us feel good. We are afraid of changing, even when situations become objectively unsustainable or meaningless, continuing to live like this, without really questioning ourselves about our happiness. 

At this point, we must take the scissors and cut: clean, strong, decisive. At first we will feel a sense of loss, but it is only the emotion of the turning point, the thrill of liberation; we will feel lighter and after a long time we will see the reality around us and it is probably much better than we thought ...

STOP BEING A HUMAN BEING

We fell asleep in one world, and woke up in another.
Suddenly Disney is out of magic,
Paris is no longer romantic,
New York no longer stands up,
the Chinese wall is no longer a fortress, and the prairie is empty.
Hugs and kisses suddenly become weapons, and not visiting parents and friends becomes an act of love.
Suddenly you realize that power, beauty and money are worthless and cannot get you the oxygen you are fighting for.
The world continues its life and it is beautiful. It only puts humans in cages. I think it's sending a message to every human being: “You don't need to. The air, the earth, the water and the sky are fine without you. When you return, remember that you are my guests. Not my masters ”.

When the epidemic ends, it cannot be ruled out that there are those who will not want to return to their previous life. Awareness of the fragility and transience of life will spur men and women to set new priorities. To better distinguish between what is important and what is futile. To understand that time – and not money – is the most precious resource. Who, being able, will leave a job that for years has suffocated and oppressed him. Who decides to leave the family, to say goodbye to their spouse or partner. To give birth to a child, or not to want children. To come out. There will be those who will begin to believe in God and those who will stop believing in him. There will be those who, for the first time, will question the choices made, the sacrifices, the compromises. On the loves that he did not dare to love. About the life he didn’t dare to live. Men and women will wonder why they waste their lives on relationships that cause them bitterness. There will also be those who will revise their political views, based on anxieties or values ​​that will disintegrate during the epidemic. There will be those who will doubt the reasons that lead a people to fight against an enemy for generations, to believe that war is inevitable. It is possible that an experience as hard and profound as the one we are living leads someone to reject nationalistic positions, for example, everything that divides us, alienates us, leads us to hate, to barricade ourselves.

The speed of the contagion of our change scares me.
The virulence of the spread of our fear terrifies me.
Tremble at the sound of the doorbell.
Startled at the sight of someone on the street.
Start thinking about life before, a first that has recently passed.
Hiding from the world, finally safe inside these empty and silent rooms.
But are we really that powerful?
But are we really that capable?
Resilient?
Changing?
Are we really so capable of forgetting?
What was it, who were we?
Because if so, really so, we can sleep peacefully and even dream that everything will be fine.
Because if so, really so, we can hope and smile confidently looking at the starless night from a still lit window.
Because if it is so, really so, one day, that day, we will go out on the street running without being afraid of being afraid of the other.
If so, that day, we will suddenly remember.
And, suddenly, we will recover from this disease.
We will be so powerful that we will embrace each other without shaking.
And then, only then, will we finally be healed.

FINGERS OF NATURE

It is fascinating. Nature is wonderful, she has managed to create beautiful things by herself, of perfect symmetry, all so calculated and precise. The leaves, the flowers, us, even if not perfectly. But it’s all calculated right? We were created to be imperfect and however we try to achieve perfection we will never be, neither physically nor morally. What then, who decides that something is perfect or imperfect? Which is right or wrong? What is good or bad? Who is stupid or smart? What is weird or normal? What is it that really makes it so? It’s just our idea. So theoretically symmetry does not exist and exists. Perfection does not exist and exists. All in contrast with everything. The stars are fascinating. They are very large, much larger than our planet and yet they are there, bright dots that shine in the sky, a hint of color in the dark, forming constellations, forming dreams, galaxies, galaxies of dreams. They are there in the sky, so far away, so close, that if you put yourself on your toes, it seems that you can touch them with your hand, but you cannot. The water, what the hell, is beautiful. The surface tension, its clarity, its necessity. But I don’t understand why nature hasn’t made it available to everyone. Then the matter, that everything is made up of everything.

There is no end of matter, a thing created first of all. The universe, which cannot be infinite, come on, everything has an end. Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring, Life, The Earth, Stories, Kisses, Friendships, Loves, Roads, Travels, Holidays, Nights, Days, Weeks , Months, years, sheets, notebooks, the most beautiful books, everything. And the numbers? How can they be infinite? They are not. There are many combinations, Infinite, But we manage to pronounce them up to a certain point, then we start with the astronomical unit, with the light years. And then nature has given us everything, even the possibility of hurting ourselves, it is up to us to choose what to do, it has made us totally free. Have you ever thought about all this? To fate? Exists? In my opinion, yes. A story written somewhere. Two people destined to meet, two people who will fail together, but not alone, two people who together will overcome everything. A person destined to be born to change the world, a savior on this unjust and infamous planet. But who created all this? And remember that the case does not exist, it is not that one day two planets decided by CASE to collide and create the Earth, right? You see, it’s all so wonderful, fascinating, twisted. All so beautifully beautiful.

BEAUTY IS THE BEAST

On social media, speaking above all of influencers and models who often publish their photos showing themselves beautiful, thin / me with a face practically without imperfections, it has now gone to establish an exaggerated and in my opinion also dangerous exposure h24 to fees too tall and often not authentic. It must be said that for the publication of these photos "filters" are often used to remove the imperfections of the body and thus make the person in the photo more beautiful. A smooth face for example is often caused by these "effects" that are applied to photos.

Why do I say that these canons of beauty can have dangerous implications? Because in a world where beauty is understood above all with thinness, smooth faces, etc., many boys and girls (teenagers in particular) take all this as a "standard" by not appreciating their body and ending up in the midst of psychological discomfort too. deeper. In fact, we know that the adolescent period is not always rosy and in itself the discomfort for one's body often comes out. So be careful not to increase it.

"Look at this model what a nice slim / dry body she has, mine is more plump and sucks", "look at this influencer what a perfect face she has while mine is affected by acne and it sucks" are simple examples of that that guys can think even just looking in the mirror.

The message that must pass on the web (and fortunately there are some famous people who do this) is that everyone has their own body that must be cared for and loved. The message that to be beautiful you must necessarily have a "standard" body must not at all pass.

Let's take advantage of these blessed social networks because they can also transmit positive teachings, even more so in this area as now everyone (or at most almost everyone) has already used them from a very young age.

SLEEPING DUTY

Sleeping is one of those things that has always fascinated me. Why we sleep, I mean. We all have basic needs as living beings: we must drink, eat, carry out our organic functions and then we must sleep. Otherwise we don’t work, otherwise we go haywire, in short, we die not to sleep (we have to mention, what do I know, like Nightmare?), It is one of those basic needs. On average, we should sleep about 8 hours a day, which is equivalent to 1/3 of the day, which then means, in a nutshell, about 1/3 of our life. It is a lot of time to think about it, many say it is “wasted” time … maybe instead we have to stay awake and work for 2/3 of our life to get 1/3 of that absolute freedom. When we sleep we enter a world that is made different. We lose contact with reality, dream and re-process the information collected inside and outside of us in a completely personal way. And this step is necessary and fundamental in order not to freak out. Yet we take it for granted. We are what we are when we are awake, that is our identity, what we believe we are is represented by our conscious image and when we are awake and alert we worry about buying a comfortable mattress, arranging the bedroom furniture according to the Feng Shui, to change the sheets, to sleep well, in short. Because sleeping well is more important than eating well, for example. But we take it for granted. I emphasize this, because it is something that few people talk about. At work in the morning typically “what did you do last night?” “Well, I was tired, I had dinner, I saw a movie and then I went to sleep” and then that’s it, life ended there when you closed your eyes and starts again in the morning when the alarm goes off. We recharge our batteries every night, but we don’t talk much about it.

Everything that the human being designs has this mechanism inside: we are always convinced that whatever we do must somehow recharge or rest. We consider it a primary need even for inanimate things. We cannot design or conceive of something that is in perpetual motion. Something that is always on, something that can work perfectly forever. Everything we design has our own basic needs inherent. Only when we have a very bad dream or are unable to sleep does the topic become public “you know, last night I had a terrible dream!” “Ah, don’t tell me, in the last period I haven’t slept so much I was stressed from work, I woke up every 5 minutes!”, Only then do dreams and dream imaginary interfere with our everyday life otherwise nothing, we take it for granted. Sometimes I like to think I have a parallel life. At night, just as it happens in reverse during the day, I am unaware of what I did when I was awake, I wear different clothes and wake up on the other side, where I have another life. They interfere with each other only when there is something serious that does not work on one or the other side of that thin horizon. Otherwise they continue independently, like two parallel lines. Maybe in my dreams I do a different job, I live in another house, I have other animals, other friends, maybe I also have a husband and children, who knows … I am unaware of my daytime life just as I am unaware of mine during the day dream life. It’s not a very original thought, I know it from myself. But it still fascinates me terribly.

STORY OF A GIRL ON THE BENCH

It happened a month ago. I was sitting in the car, as my father was driving around, he was ready to buy something; the car was a patched church from a near to the park and to pass the time I observed the people, parrot and they could not see me, because the windows yes, but I, if they shouted, could also hear them. There were many groups and small groups scattered around the park, they laughed, joked. I noticed a girl sitting completely alone on her bench, it was the bench closest to my car so she could see well her big sad eyes that each both guarded in all over the park and, by chance and met others immediately turned to look down. Her dark hair was tied up in a disorderly fashion, in a notebook on her legs and a pen in her left hand, she was left-handed. He stared at the notebook with the tip of the pen between his teeth and, each wrote, as unexpectedly encourages inspiration. Every now and then he would stop and get in his way quickly. I saw a tall handsome boy approaching the bench, he asked for something pointing to the bench, read nodded and then he sat down. I lowered the window a little, just not to be seen and heard, where absolutely to see how it ends. The girl had closed the notebook leaving the pen inside, the boy raised his hand in the air and started shouting according to someone to approach. And here comes a beautiful girl, the classic barbie who stands next to him. -Sorry, we’re leaving soon, we have to wait for some friends but we’re giving a lot of standing time and there is no free bench, it bothers you say it .- She shook her head with a forced smile and then turned away from the Other part, not from saying no. He made a strange face, put his hand on his forehead and shook his head and I understood. He probably thought -How could I think that it was come here for me, what a fool! in a romantic puzzle. Then he lowered his head, I knew what he was feeling, I knew it very well. The people who passed in front of that bench turned around for a moment to look at it, pointed at it to the rest of the group and then a general laugh was heard. She pretended not to hear, not to notice, but her knuckles had turned white from how much she held the pen. Another boy approached her and without asking anything he sat down, she didn’t even look at him. He did not call anyone, he stood there and looked in front of him, clapped his hands on his legs and his right leg moved nervously. He asked the girl for the time and she coldly answered him, without even looking into his eyes. Then he continued to write. After a few seconds of silence he asked her -What do you write? – Her pen fell on the ground, she didn’t pick it up and then said: -Nothing that could interest you- -That I should judge- -The truth is that I have never read to anyone what I write- – Are you a writer? – -I would like to, but it’s not my gift, let’s say .- -How do you know if no one has ever read what you write? – -I need to judge what I write. – No it is not true. Do you think you are beautiful? – -I? Of course not .- -Here, you see? For me you are instead, and in my opinion it is the same thing with what you write- -I really have to go now- said the girl getting up. The boy stood there saying nothing, watching her as she walked away. After a while he got up too, and with his hands in his pockets went to the opposite side. I was shocked, I didn’t understand why she left, she wasn’t used to being complimented and she probably couldn’t handle the situation. I would have liked to get out of the car and stop her, tell her there was nothing to fear, to try to be happy, but how could I if, in the end, I am like her? And so a month went by, I didn’t think about it anymore. Yesterday I was walking around the town with a friend of mine, I was talking to her quietly when at a certain point I saw her, the girl from the park, she had loose hair and a beautiful smile and, you know the nice thing? He was holding hands with that boy, they walked past me and I looked at them for a while. Who knows what had happened, from that afternoon to that moment, what story there was, I wanted so much to know it, but, for the moment, I’m content to imagine it. I just hope they will be happy.

WHEN I WAS ALIVE

As a young girl I imagined a different future and being an artist (I don’t get high nor smoke or drink, I’m an atypical artist I know) I thought that my skills, both artistic and intellectual (I always had excellent grades in school) would have me taken far, in every sense. I have always dreamed of a life off the cursed island, Sicily, because as soon as I grew up a little and became old enough to understand certain social dynamics, I felt suffocated in my aspirations. My parents wanted me to finish my studies, find a rich husband and get married and bake some grandchildren for them. Instead I didn’t do any of this. I have not followed any rules of social life that tradition imposed. Immediately after high school I went abroad to pursue my artistic dream but I was forced to return because my mother was sick and I took on my responsibilities as a daughter and still do it today and in return I do not receive than criticisms and always negative judgments. In part you are right, I have not been able to get even the minimum of what I aspired to in my artistic life but on the other hand I have a situation that everyone envies me.

Of course, after having understood how things are going, after having discovered that “either you follow the rules of the market or you stay out of every field”, the choice to continue on the difficult and fruitless path of art is truly crazy. But I can’t turn my back on myself and my fantasy, and especially in recent times if I hadn’t had all these dreams with me yet, I think I wouldn’t have been able to go on. Sometimes instead I say to myself, trying to convince myself, that it would have been better not to have these dreams at all and not to have all these creative abilities, since up to now they have not brought me anything concrete because I do not compromise for any reason and I do not I want to sleep with anyone to get credit. This crisis due to covid pays for itself first of all precisely those sectors of genres that are considered unnecessary, and art is one of them. Certainly having a nice painting hanging on the wall does not fill people’s stomachs so even I wouldn’t feel like persuading someone to buy a painting rather than buying groceries. First of all, I myself have had to give up those beautiful things that make life more pleasant (dinners out, accessories, hairdressers, cinema, theater, concerts, cosplay fairs, …) and so why shouldn’t others give it up too ?! The covid spared no one. So what’s the point of creating so many beautiful things if they have to remain closed in a box or drawer? Being an art therapist seems nonsense. Working with autistic children seems inconsistent. Yet it requires a lot of patience and a lot of control. But I never talk about my passion for saving children.

EXTREME MAKE UP

In an era in which Kate Middleton, Duchess of Cambridge and wife of the heir to the throne of England, nonchalantly flaunts the same dress on several occasions, clearing the practice of recycling against which fashion addicted have pointed the finger for many years, It is no surprise that more and more companies are emerging on the Web that make second-hand clothes and accessories their specialty. Yet, the idea that Karen Horiuchi had when she founded Glambot.com is definitely new: instead of t-shirts, tops, skirts and dresses, the company has focused on make-up, selling eyeshadows, foundations at discounted prices. and even used and “refurbished” make-up brushes.

She’s good, wear makeup as well. A little mascara and a trickle of pencil. Put a brush of powder on it too and be careful not to forget your dear friend blush. Put whatever you want in it, and then get out. Have fun, drink, laugh, joke, scream, don’t care, live! But then you will have to go home and take off that mask that you created yourself adapting it to your face. You didn’t think about this huh? You can’t wear it forever, it’s a mask destined to be taken off, sooner or later. It is one of those masks that make you look beautiful at first; but then its beauty gradually fades away and all that remains is your true beauty; the one you have never noticed, because it lies in simplicity, in small gestures, in the most hidden details. That true beauty that you have never shown anyone; the one that no one knows; the one no one knows exists. Maybe because you don’t want anyone to see it, or maybe you think that, once it is revealed, nobody would appreciate it. And the funniest thing of all is that others do the same thing to you, without your knowledge. Because this is now a world of masks in which the actors who wear them are none other than the protagonists of this film called “Life”, where appearing is more important than being; where the story of being beautiful inside, nobody cares. Where nobody ever thinks that perhaps it would be better to be hated for who they really are, than loved for that fucking mask that we insist on wearing to please others.

Why do you stay in front of the mirror for hours before you go out? There is always someone more beautiful than you. Why do you look at the clock every five seconds? So much gives you the hole. Why do not you eat? You suck even with ten kilos less. Why are you wearing makeup? No one ever looks at your eyes anyway. Why are you hoping for it? Nothing good ever happens to you anyway.

All women need makeup. Don’t let anyone tell you a different thing. The only woman who was pretty enough to go without makeup was Elizabeth Taylor and she wore tons of it. “A few days ago I came across this phrase written as a caption under a photo shared on instagram by a fashion blogger, I felt offended and I I’m angry. The girl defines herself as a “fashion influencer” and this made me reflect, because actually she is a girl who is very active on social media and has a following of about 33,000 people, mostly girls who could potentially take her as a model and follow what he says, being influenced. I wondered how it is possible to write such a thing, to get the message across that everyone needs to wear makeup, to get the message across that they are not “enough”. how to make this girl reflect on the fact that it is not a good message at all. A friend of mine commented, in a very calm and open way to dialogue. , in response, the girl deleted the comment, changed the caption (without much improvement, however) and blocked my friend. I think that all these girls who have all this following could have great opportunities to pass important messages, to influence in a positive and constructive way instead they get lost in these frivolities, they remain on the verge of superficiality … Probably because that’s what “sells” “, this is what” earns “. The baseness that is raised and acclaimed pisses me off.

Many think about the type of girl they would like: tall, short, brunette, blonde, eec… but I think about when. I would like to meet her in the morning, still sleepy because the night before she studied a little too much, without makeup and with the overalls, because having gone to sleep late she obviously woke up late and left the house in a hurry. If on that occasion I find her beautiful I do not dare to imagine how she will be once dressed well and made up. So dear girls, don’t wear too much make-up like clowns because simple you are beautiful …

LUNATIC GIRL

I love myself as I am.
With strengths and weaknesses.
Black days and rainbows.
Paranoia and insecurities.
Crooked moons and bipolarity.
Logorrheic and despotic.
Break boxes and always on his.
But above all, always myself.

She was no ordinary woman, one with a nice pair of legs, a nice breast, a nice butt or a particular face, I don’t even know if she was really aesthetically beautiful. She had the wrinkles of her years, of her experiences, an angular character, she was complex, almost shy, twisted … Yet she was so beautiful in her doing, in her love, in her infinite being. In everything he did you found hidden all his charm, he had on him the wild scent of freedom, dreams, concreteness, passion. She was not perfect, on the contrary she was moody, at times unpleasant and yet, in every defect, in every excess there was the essence of her being “perfect” because “bastardly sincere”. No, she was definitely not an ordinary woman, her heart extended towards infinity, infinite as the sea is, as the universe is and as deep as the ocean. Yes, he had all the wrinkles of his years, that stubborn, almost unshakable character, he didn’t mince words, often beaten down but never defeated. It was enough for itself, it made sure it was enough. Life had “given” her a lot of tears, but she went on finding a way to dry them by herself. Yes, she was a woman, complicated … a tangle of woman. Call her beautiful? Yes, beautiful, complex and mysterious She had to be stripped from the inside, taken and dragged without asking too many questions, because too many questions would not be answered in words. She had a head, heart and soul and she wasn’t a nice pair of legs, a nice breast. Although she was “nothing special” … she was extraordinary with those who entered her heart and put her heart, strength and passion into everything she did.

I have a difficult character. Too proud, perhaps too moody. I hardly feel anything and if someone goes away I go away too without asking for explanations. I could not bear the idea of ​​submitting myself or depending on someone, first of all there is me. I’ve lost so many people and I’ve earned a reputation for being heartless, but I feel my heart … at night when I’m alone and it’s the saddest sound I’ve ever heard. But I hide it. I hide my emptiness, my good side, my desire to love. I am myself only when I want and above all with whom I want!