Eyes of the heart inside a ring, They wrote sad words of sin: The wrong time, The wrong beat, The wrong night It was raining and you were crushed. The wind was deserted, the night dark, You had a thought that warmed up, You took it with you inside the hotels of iron. And then he came, with a shadow in his heart, devouring donuts, devouring the dust of ancient houses. You wanted to escape the grave, and your rose was still alive. Then the flower turned daisy yellow, Wine had the last drop on his heart And the car went into the ravine.
Six years ago a friend of mine gave me his bicycle as a gift and he is gone forever. For three years the bike has always served me: I loaded it like a mule to do the shopping, we went a couple of times away and then around this green area, for months she and I, her bike. For months and miles, it was my car. I remember that she was waiting for me on the last sidewalk of the station when he left. When I left for London it was brought with great difficulty to Padua and when I returned from London I went to pick it up from Padua. It was raining heavily that day, rivers of water lined the streets and the Paduans found a girl in the rain who splashed water everywhere and sang the Christmas song “Jingle bells” in the middle of summer. I was very happy to be able to ride a bike. When I arrived at the station, the track for the bike was the last one, outside the station shelter and so I had to forcefully fit the bike onto the wagon and then pull it up, in the midst of a thousand curses on that last wagon before the locomotive. Unlike the one I have at home, this one was called “Little Mermaid” because during the winter rains of a cold and merciless reverse, I always emerged from the waters on her saddle and stayed afloat. I walked around in sub-zero temperatures and warm socks under my pants. Then one day I went to the library, serene as always, and when I go out I haven’t found her. You took away not only a bike of questionable economic value, and of fundamental practical value, but you also took away a dear memory and a piece of my life. The Little Mermaid was the only memory I had of my friend. Thieves assholes!
Where are you in this pyramid of power?
What power do you have in your life?
What level do you think you are on?
Do you own a house, a car, some clothes, some food?
How long will you have them?
Do you have money, do you buy, do you realize your dreams?
How long?
You think you lead your life but maybe you have been put on the lowest level and you don't realize it.
How many debts did you make to live this life? To make your children study? To have this house and this car?
You have debts and can't live peacefully.
You work 10 hours, 12 hours and yet it is not enough. It takes more money and more money. And how will you do one day when you get too tired?
When will they always want more from you?
What will you do?
The "new slaveholder" often hides the relationship he establishes with his dominated behind the screen of a debt relationship: in short, he forces the enslaved to contract an enormous and inexhaustible debt with them. The forced labor into which they are forced, therefore, is apparently paid, perhaps even well, but immediately disappears into the bottomless pit of debt mentioned above.
The relationship of debt slavery is by no means limited to individuals today, but has expanded and pervades the relations between states and companies that have behaviors towards mankind in general not different from that of the new slaveholders. The relationships between banks, small, medium and large companies, nations, supranational political institutions, multinational companies can today be largely described in the same terms as the relationship between the new slaveholder and the new enslaved: debt is the tool that chains the behavior of all these entities, forces them into a steel cage. The vast majority of the balance sheet of individuals, banks and companies, even those of no small size and above all nations, is destined to pay interest on an almost inexhaustible debt: the "sacrifices" to which we are periodically called do not serve to repay the debt contracted, but simply to pay the interest, perhaps turning it on again. Corporate bankruptcy / centralization processes also follow similar dynamics.
PAYABLES TO BUY HOUSE
PAYABLES TO STUDY
PAYABLES TO PAY THE RENT
PAYABLES TO BUY FOOD
PAYABLES TO BUY THE CAR
PAYABLES TO BUY ITEMS
PAYABLES TO BUY LIFE TO SHOW ON SOCIAL MEDIA
PAYABLES TO CARE FOR HEALTH
DEBTS TO GROW CHILDREN
PAYABLES TO LOOK PERFECT
DEBTS TO BUY BEAUTY
PAYABLES TO BUY SEX
PAYABLES TO BUY FOLLOWERS
PAYABLES TO BUY HOLIDAYS
AND THEM?
WHO IS ABOVE HAS DEBTS LIKE YOU?
OR DO YOU EARN A LOT OF MONEY,
MONEY YOU CAN'T EVEN IMAGINE?
When I was younger: I would put my arms in the shirt and tell people that I had lost my arms. I restarted the game every time I knew I was going to lose. I slept with all the stuffed animals like a baby so none of them got offended. I had that 4-color pen, and I was trying to push buttons at once. I poured the soda into a lid and shaken it as if I were making small glasses. the hardest decision was choosing which nintendo game to play. I waited behind a door to scare someone, then I left because it took too long to get out or I had to pee. I pretended to be asleep so I could be carried to bed. I thought the moon was following my car. I watched two drops of water slip on the window and pretended it was a race. I used to go to the computer just to use paint. the only thing I had to worry about was the tamagotchi. the only ‘false’ friends I had were the invisible ones. I sang in the shower. (now? now I take some life choices down there). I ingested some fruit seeds and was scared to death that a tree would grow in my belly. I peeled my knees which healed better than a broken heart. I remember when we were kids and couldn’t wait to grow up. what the hell were we thinking about?
Travel by car. The headphones in the ears. The sunsets, and the painted sky. Lonely hands and tired eyes. The thought of him, her lips pursed. I “I love you” whispered to the wind in the hope that something of me will come to him. When I come back after I’ve been to you, I put that song in the car and imagine you singing it to me. And I am happy. It occurred to me because they just drove it. I am here, you are not.we are in the car and you are driving, you take me home after spending a day with you, we are stopped at the red light like my cheeks, you look at me and you ask me: “would you ever have imagined you and me like this? I who drive now and when you met me I was just a kid, and you next to me? “. I smile because it often happens that you say things while I was thinking of them exactly the same way, and I answer you that there are many things that I would not have imagined, things that life with you draws and teaches me every day, things that do to me believe more and more that many times it is worth waiting for beautiful things and that if there is one thing that is beautiful but truly beautiful it is you and me.Do you remember the two of us in the car with the rain piercing the asphalt and the dead battery? But where did we want to go? That getting lost is beautiful. Throw away the phone and let’s go straight until morning. If it comes. And if peace does not come, then we are the only ones. We make love in the car, in the suburbs, where no one comes to see us. Or we go to the park, we roll in the grass, we laugh out loud, we talk nonsense, and you tell me I’m beautiful and I’ll tell you you’re a liar.The emotions of that evening took us to that hill where we stopped for a moment: with a beer in hand we got out of the car and, you, you approached me, taking me by the hand, and you took me in front of the car. We lean on it and we both observed the city from afar, illuminated, and savored that moment. We felt good about ourselves and suddenly you stood in front of me and kissed me. It was a long, slow but intense kiss. We stayed there until dawn forgetting everything and everyone: it was just the two of us, all that mattered.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 