STORY OF A WOUND

You once had a country. You once had a body. Once there was a warrior girl. She does this at night, when she can't sleep: she closes her eyes and ritually runs her fingertips over the geography of her face. Years of childhood and family recede and sink, replaced by valleys and mountains of scar tissue and aging. Under the right eye, where the cheekbone begins, the war years. His adolescence incinerated. At the root of the nose, the burnt skin wrinkles, almost in a spiral, and with the imagination, one feels how, in all of us, love and fury are close. We try to pretend that they are the opposite of each other, or two opposite poles, but in reality they meet in the center of the forehead. They form a bridge, a bond. She hears the narration of faith at the bridge of the nose. It would be very easy for her to finger drill her skull into the gray matter.
Near the jaw, against the edge of my mouth, I feel the people I once loved: the mother. The bear. The dog. And then what I have come to love in fatigue and endurance. Comrades and companions in arms. "Love" is a word that always has explosive definitions gathered in the corners of the mouth, a mouth that now resembles a jagged gash, hostile to any expression, open only to cry and prayer.
In the skin I bear the mark of the original wound. I live in the killer's body; I live in the body of someone who could give life. What is the meaning of giving life? That's the kind of question I'm asking myself now. A meaningless question.
Whatever life forms are left on earth, whoever writhes through their miserable existence as worms, this is a drama in which I have no part.
This is not a simple face deposit. This is also a prisoner depot. They have been conducting this bizarre dance for years: they choose the face. They charge. They wait.

LOVELY PIECE

I watched that small, lonely piece of ash that had managed to escape from the fire that burned relentlessly, slowly turning the wood into simple and useless ash. It was still alight, still bright orange, and rising slowly, skyward, and then ... Poof. To disappear.

It was a simple pre-Christmas evening, the people in the square, the fire lit near the Christmas tree, the songs that resounded in the main streets, the lights ... Wherever you could breathe the air of celebration, wherever you turned you meet us looks happy and bright smiles.

Children scurried along the sidewalks, competing to see who could get on the train first.

I was there, in front of the lit fire, admiring the beauty of my small town, in the arms of those who, with a simple glance, could make me feel butterflies in my stomach. There was silence between us, we weren't talking because there was no need: our intertwined hands, our looks and smiles said everything; said it all the sweet kisses we exchanged, light and slow, which managed to drive me crazy in any case.

I turned to look at him, and once again I lost myself in those hazel eyes, so bright and cheerful, so deep, in which I continually drowned, losing the strength and the will to resist. I ran my gaze on his face: from the eyes I looked on the nose, then on the lips, so beautiful to kiss, and on the cheeks, so soft and warm ... I returned to rest my gaze on his eyes, which were now staring at me have fun, managing to get me a sincere smile, once again.

NATURALIST

I am face to face with myself, how long it hadn’t happened, I had almost forgotten how it felt, listening to the silence, reflecting on one’s life, on the changes and transformations it holds for us. Many times I found myself being with me, and it never scared me like now, perhaps because I’m no longer used to it. And I wondered why something inside me had taken over, so strong that it made me lose air and cause sudden tachycardias wherever I was. Anyone who has a character similar to mine can understand me well when I talk about having become a sort of time bomb, whatever happens outside of me, I care, perhaps even more than I should, so much that I can’t say “no” to no one, so much as to cause me inner discomfort, so much so that I forget about myself, my time, my habits and become a sort of automaton that performs tasks for no purpose. A bomb that just inserted does not cause any damage and that explodes when you least expect it, making a clean sweep around itself and annihilating all fear. There comes a time when you have to say enough and take back who you are, the time comes to ask for help and to throw out all the poison, the time comes to control your “I”, to listen to it and rock it. The time comes to bring out yourself, to do it alone, while keeping the people who matter to you next to you and remain by your side despite everything, because who more than me deserves to feel good? Nobody. Without a “me”, there is no “we”, without a “me” there are no friends, without a “me” there is nothing. We are like lego constructions, we compose and break down as we see fit, we are able to disintegrate and reattach piece by piece to build the tallest skyscraper in existence, we are able to change pieces, multitudes, colors, we are able to great things, but only if we want them. I finish by making a wish to me and to all the people who, like me, are finding themselves: Always be yourself, face the changes that life has in store for you, transform yourself, take time out for yourself, listen to yourself, but never forget who you are and what you are able to do.

Fight for what you believe, especially when you believe it less because it is from there that you find the strength to go further and to know yourself, have the courage not to wallow in pain but to always find solutions despite that because it is NOT everything, life is full of crazy things and we often forget it because we tend not to live in the present, but we remain attached to the past, let it go! Believe that everything does not happen by chance and that the universe presents you with everything to make you evolve, you are in the process and above all everything is temporary! Be the first to be responsible for your mood and your actions, let’s stop blaming others and start taking our responsibilities where it is needed because the rest will then reveal itself. Have the courage to believe, you are much more than you think and never forget your potential or every little thing that can change your day because it is a step that every day will get bigger and bigger and one day you will turn around thanking you for have done so and you will truly live with love for yourself. Always love each other.

I have always had a good relationship with nature. Since I was a child, thanks to my parents, I have always had a great admiration for everything related to her. As a child I never believed in fairies or all that stuff, but I believed in the magic of the earth, of how a flower blooms … And I wasn’t bored, on the contrary I was fascinated by it. I have never endured the city, full of giants made of concrete; it put me, and it still puts me in depression. It’s like those giants are stealing my happiness. But it was over time that I understood: no one had told me about pollution, it was as if I had remained in a bubble, which did not let anything pass. But it was by changing school, to go to middle school that I opened my eyes. In elementary school, nobody talked to me about the impact of our actions on the environment. In middle school I also participated in environmental discoveries. And since then I have looked at nature with different, new eyes. And everywhere I looked, I saw garbage, pollution. I hate the fact that the sea, and beyond, is soiled by our stupidity. And the fish, but not only, suffer the consequences. Many people talk about it, but between words and deeds, there is an incompatible horizon. And what good is it, we dirty the sea and the fish without thinking that we will eat them … It’s incredible, we think we are very intelligent, but the truth is different. That’s right, people are the worst disease on this planet. But it is still not too late to save the Earth. Of course, only one can do nothing, it is the union that is strength. So let’s save nature for ourselves and for other living beings.

LOVING AN ARTIST

Loved only by those who had brought me into the world, I was a winged-hearted creature. A free creature, who would never have sacrificed the wings of freedom to a stupid and obsolete feeling commonly called love. Armed only with myself, in the evening, I spread my wings above the world and let myself be caressed by the wind, with my soul naked and free of inhibitions. The warm currents squeezed me and the taste of the lack of ties satisfied me; nothing in the world could ever upset my balance. Nothing, I was sure, for nothing, in my eyes, shone more than freedom. They are artists, for me, those who know how to create a unique world in which to take refuge. You, for me, were an artist. And as such, I envied you when, from the bedroom window, I saw the most beautiful paintings I had ever seen take shape on previously white canvases. Then you smiled at me, sent me a kiss and went back to painting. If it was just a joke, or if you really wanted to give me kisses, I don’t know, but the way you looked at me, the curious eyes with which you looked at my tousled hair and my oversized jacket, made me fall back lightly my wings, before spreading them in all their glory and straightening my head. No one would ever overwhelm me, not you, with your gemstone gaze, not anyone else. I was not like you. I was not beautiful, or clear, and I did not look perfect even with the face dirty with acrylic color and the hair gathered in a messy way. I’ve never been like you. I, I told myself, was free. Free from all ties and free from everything that could have binded me to the world. And my greatest wealth was freedom. Of this I am sure. I lived like this, as it happened. I lived for the day, detaching myself more and more from the earthly world and taking refuge in the warmth of my parents’ hugs. Their chests were warm and full of life. Full of love for me, but that love, perhaps, was not enough. That love, perhaps, did not have the color of your paintings and did not represent sunrises and sunsets. That love, I discovered, was not yours. It was inviolate, unconditional, but it did not come from the chest of the only person who, with his paintings and his smile, was able to take my breath away and make me angry. When I realized I loved you, I cried. I cried like I had never done before. One evening when it was raining I went out, on tiptoe I reached towards the sky; towards freedom, but this was so far away. I closed my eyes, as the rain soaked my clothes and weighed me down, I promised myself that feeling would not touch me. His chains would not have destroyed my wrists. I think I’ve never been good at keeping my promises, nor at winning wars. And so, crying, my feet touched the ground and for you, for your paintings and your sunsets, I tasted your lips stained with tempera, drowning in your presence and in your breath, clinging to my shoulders with all of myself. If you had left me, I would have died. I also gave up my only affections; those parents who, when they learned that I loved a girl, closed the door in my face and never reopened it are still just a memory. “Don’t you want to play with me today?” The wind asks me. But my wings are closed now, I hold your hand. That’s okay, you know? Sleep, sleep a little longer, my love. When you wake up, I will still be here. If, however, you find only this letter, look at the sun. Rising, it brings you a message: “She loves you,” he says “More than freedom?” “Yes, more than freedom.”