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.

THE HUGH OF A FRIEND

When a hug that means everything is worth a thousand words; a moment that knows of eternity, that you did not think possible and that upsets you inside, caressing the Dream while it is being fulfilled, with a heart that goes crazy and with a mind that imprisons sounds and flavors so as not to forget even a second of the Felicity experienced, that it gives that precise meaning to that incomprehensible feeling that cannot be explained but only lived, with those strong and warm long-desired arms that give protection against the logics that rage in the world.

NOBODY KNOWS

First the shyness, being a kind of ornament, cute, harmless, useful, immersed in my parallel world, in which only my vision of things was true. A world in which I could not be disappointed. Nobody would hurt me, I was a totally self-sufficient being, satisfied with the little things, independent of people because it was like that, it had to be like that. The study on friendship, my beliefs on reality. Then the awareness, realizing that my strength was my weakness, had created a void, made up of forced friendships, of people ignored. I realized that I had built an image that hid the real me from anyone, everything I was in addition to a studio machine or a perfect daughter. Maybe I was still nothing beyond that, and I wasn’t hiding anything, I simply hadn’t given space to everything I thought was “surrounding”. I tried to recover. In part, I grew up, I opened myself to others, to those who were willing to listen to me, now that I was willing to build something.
We continually seek the company of others, in fact we are not able to be alone with silence. In the silence our fears, our anxieties, and our truest self emerge, which we nevertheless repudiate as if it were the most disgusting substance. I don’t know if the hatred we feel towards ourselves is something we have learned or that is innate in us, but it persists despite everything, indeed, whoever claims to love himself the most is the one who hates himself the most. Narcissists cannot listen to silence, as they have learned to ignore it. The less fortunate learn to hate each other without knowing the reasons, while some have to live with their own suffering in continually admitting the existence in themselves of dark places that are unbearable for everyone. The existence of man is a continuous escape from his own essence, since we are born without the means to contain our fullness.
I can’t define my state of mind. It’s strange. It is as if I were totally normal, but at the same time I couldn’t help but think about this situation, which is both uncomfortable and fascinating at the same time. I lose my eyes in the void, even if to others it does not seem that it is distracting me. Or maybe I hope they don’t understand. I look at myself from the outside to try to understand something, but I don’t even know where I want to go, if I want to go all the way, or if it’s all an illusion, and what I’m thinking makes no sense. It probably is, although you find people here and there confirming that they are reality, these thoughts will remain imagination.

SNOW FLOWER AND THE SECRET FAN

China, nineteenth century. Two girlsSnow Flower a White Lily, become linked for eternity with the Laotong rite, after sharing the practice of foot wrapping.

In the situation of isolation of the women of the time, the two friends will begin to communicate with a language unknown to men, the nü shu (女 书), through the folds of the Snow Flower fan.
Shanghai, today's times. The descendants of Snow  Flower and White Lily, two girls who have been friends since childhood, Sophia Liao and Nina Wei, bond with the Laotong ritual through a CD by singer Faye Wong. The various events of life will separate them and then discover that their union will transcend time.
The bandaging was a ritual that mothers imposed on their daughters, between four and five years of age, with the aim of changing the shape of the feet. In this way they would have remained small, about seven / eight centimeters, and would have assumed a pointed shape.
Unfortunately, there were also less fortunate girls, who did not survive due to the resulting infections and gangrene.
Furthermore, having deformed feet was an investment in marriage and in the possibility of social ascent, since marrying such girls was a sign of prosperity.

The only women who did not follow the practice were those of the Hakka ethnic group, very poor, and the fisherwomen, as they needed normal feet to be able to balance their weight on the boats.
The shoes used by women with golden lilies, compared with a hand. (Photo and hand by Amanda Foreman)

EVERYTHING N FIRE

It's true I often burned my paintings, notebooks, books, I burned to forget that I was an artist. To forget the power to create from nothing. It was exhilarating, demeaning, tiring, it was destructive to me too. But my life was fire, fire lit every day. Now there is not even the ash left. I have burned souls, I have burned whole nights, burned words and loves. All together incinerated in a moment of sublime beauty. The green fire.
My green fire guided me. It was night, it was day and for me it was always life. But it doesn't burn forever. Eventually we turn off.
Eventually the coal becomes blacker. Very black. You find it in the walls, inside your inner walls, and you always get dirty every color you try to trace on your door. But Black crosses the threshold, reaches you, takes everything, burns you completely.
She was the one in the photo, holding a bouquet of flowers and a red hen’s crest on her head. It was she who acted among the frightened girls. Hamlet hadn’t hesitated either in his gestures or in his voice. And she continued to play a role that was not hers: the good girl who goes out of her way to meet her father’s expectations. A studious pupil, a caring daughter. Never any drift or dangerous friendship. Never any friends who are too annoying or a boyfriend who is too jealous. Never any of that. Only music and art, mixed with the tears that often bathed his pillow. He loved his mom and dad. He went out of his way to make them happy. And her little sister also loved and often played with her and never teased her. Growing up he had kept that naive and innocent look, that beautiful vivacity of one who has not known evil. Yet Hamlet knew evil from an early age, when a man took her innocence. Her nightmares were frequent and she did not know who that man was and she could never see his face. Maybe it was the shadow that appeared in her paintings or maybe she lived next to it without knowing that her executioner was the one who fed her. The executioner was always present. The executioner who had destroyed her at the age of 4.
The needs of an artist are different from all those of others. Of course an artist eats, sleeps, goes to the bathroom. He may have things and people he cares a lot about. May have interests and hobbies. But one thing distinguishes him profoundly from all other people: the need for stimulation. An artist feeds his art from himself and from what he sees, knows and experiences. Visual, mental and empirical stimuli are deeply necessary for every artist because in the absence of these his creative lymph dries up. In fact, if an artist is not put in the conditions of being able to have these stimuli that satisfy his needs, he will slowly fade away. His imagination, not being nourished, will become dry and will find it difficult to give him the input for artistic creation. Just as an animal dies in its instincts if placed inside a cage, an artist dies in his creative life if he is put in conditions that are not favorable to the expression of his artistic talent. Fantasy is like a plant and must be fed with the water of stimuli. If these are lacking, the substance for dreams is missing. It lacks the energy itself to create other dreams and other works. So for this reason it is sometimes said that an artist cannot live life like the others and the same things that others are enough cannot be enough for him.

PEEK A BOOP

We love each other very much, it’s the only thing that comes to my mind because it doesn’t matter, it’s kept and played with them, it’s made in every way to ride! It doesn’t explain anything, I like you, you make me fucking good! I have never been so good with someone, I want to know you better, I want to see who you really are, I want to be able to hug you when I want without anyone talking about us, I want to be able to talk to you about everything, scratch you, kiss you a thousand Important to me, I want to be able to say hello as it should be with a nice kiss and not a simple hello when it happens, you are a fantastic person you have a world inside and I want to discover every corner of you, you and I are not friends, two who if we are guarded as guardians we will not be able just be friends, we will do everything possible, we will talk to them and we will not be with them .. I love my husband so much, and I love him so much, he alone with me. something that I don’t think I can manage, I’m afraid of suffering, of still being hurt and now of being sick another time I don’t want to, but I know one thing, you do me good yes you do me really good, please we let’s build something, beat these walls of fear and pride and become what we are not now.
Anxiety is your mood that changes in a matter of minutes. Anxiety means uncontrollable tremors and spasms. Anxiety is tears, it is real and painful tears. Anxiety is nausea. Anxiety is paralyzing. Anxiety is dark. Anxiety is having to find one excuse after another for your behavior. Anxiety is fear. Anxiety is worry. Anxiety drains your body and your emotions. Anxiety is raw. Anxiety is real. Anxiety means arguing with your partner even though you are not angry. Anxiety is a jolt at every slightest annoyance. Anxiety is made up of flashbacks. Anxiety is an “What if …”. Anxiety is full of “What’s wrong?” and I do not know”.
I had to understand that right away. When someone has a heart like mine, they end up dying before death itself. When someone has a heart like mine, the heart loses it, loses it in unspoken words, loses beats in sighs, loses itself as the tears flow and no one stops them. When someone has a heart like mine and gives it to someone, they never find themselves again.
I looked at it as you look at something you already know we will miss. Too good to last, to be true, too good to become a habit. I looked at it as you look at the sea at the end of summer, when the days become even clearer and the sun shines in the sky. I just looked at you, and you smiled at me. Do not forget certain smiles, certain looks and certain words.
Maybe one of us had to make a decision and maybe it was right that whoever was stronger among us made it. My psychologist once told me: “You can’t love the cause of your own destruction and your own suffering, it’s crazy!” I lost with you, but I won with myself.

THE SECRETS OF MY FRIENDS

When I have a friend I tell everything to him/ her but I’ve seen that he/ she has secrets for me. He/ she doesn’t tell me everything.My friends are strange people and I don’t see them that often they visit the day like iguanas and the night they forget where they parked. They do jobs that you don’t understand they always have their phones dead and in the eyes the eyes when they built houses with the sofa cushions. To recognize ourselves we open shells that make a flash, we find them in our pockets without knowing it. My friends laugh like water and they broke a thousand lives to get here they have unscrewed the spiral of galaxies drank beer with the angels and they say it was a coincidence. But I know that they have come to empty the deposits of weeping to show a heart that sings beyond the balconies of sleep.
There are certain friendships that are destined to end. Without regrets, without rancor. Only awareness of something that was there before and is no longer there. They are those friendships, which leave you that light melancholy of pleasant memories, which have not left too much mark. That you will remember in the strangest moments, wondering what happened to that person, but without the bitterness that the loss of a true friendship can leave you. That will make you greet that person on the street with a smile but no, it won’t make you stop talking. They are those friendships that are created in a short time and crumble in even less, that without realizing it slip away from your hands, until all of a sudden you realize you don’t know anything about that person anymore. And it doesn’t hurt the loss, because it’s so gradual that it almost comes naturally. They are those friendships that will remain forgotten in a secret diary or in a photo album of your adolescence. And it will be like losing one of the many clothespins that no, it’s not your favorite.
It was a long painful time, because she wasn’t there. When she disappeared from my life, my world was empty and my dark times got worse … I remember when I was at the lake watching the sunset and wondering why all this was happening, why I lost you, why you weren’t here by my side. After months and months, I got over everything and my heart closed, it was all right in a way. Then you came back and my life went back to being like many months ago, I was fine again, I didn’t understand why but it was going much better than “all right” … And it was strange. Until then we started talking to each other again and there I understood after weeks why … Because you were and have remained the most important person in my life, which gives me an absurd purpose and relief, where all the pain dissolves and disappears. You are the best friend I could ever want and have by my side … Watching the sunset and thinking that tomorrow will be a new day next to you, just makes me understand how much I have to fight to be able to meet you one day and hold you in my arms. It will be the greatest joy of my life, to see you and hug you … Fuck how good it would be … I can’t stop smiling at the thought … Imagine how important you are to me.

OUR EDUCATION AS WOMEN

Unfortunately, from an early age, especially us women, they teach us that happiness is found only by finding another person to love, or who loves us, and this leads to a whole series of deviations from the path of well-being that sometimes become destructive for us or for others. The educational field should be enriched with this component which concerns the construction of self-esteem created by oneself and not by the contribution of others. Perhaps in this way we would avoid making many mistakes and always seeking in the other what we already have in ourselves. A long time ago, I was building inner bridges to reach out to others. To get closer to their world. I wanted at all costs to be part of it, to feel something, to be seen, to be friends with many. I envied those who had so many friends or acquaintances. Then I found out that it’s not a great thing to have friendships. In the end, you always have to reciprocate in some way. You have duties as with relatives. Then if you understand that they exploit you it is even worse. My presence has sometimes been used and that’s not a nice thing. Now I don’t build bridges to anyone anymore. I like it as it is. I believe it is better. They don’t disappoint me. I’m not looking for anything. I don’t have to reciprocate. I don’t have to feel compelled to do anything with anyone.

MORE BEAUTIFUL

What do you ask the people of this society? To be efficient, brilliant, beautiful. What’s so much about the women of this time? The trick. Because women always have to be perfect. They always have to be beautiful to be noticed and to be considered. women can never forget in their lives that they must always be beautiful. If they do not show themselves at their best they are considered witches, mussels, zombies. In short, women are always required to take care of their appearance. And women spend a lot of money to buy make-up products. They spend a lot of money going to the gym. To make destructive diets. Women are required to have an image always suitable for their role as females. If they don’t show this picture of themselves then they’re lesbians, or crazy, or depressed. A woman who neglects is considered depressed. If you don’t reflect the current fashion model then you are out of every pattern and therefore out of every round of friendships and stay alone. If you don’t talk about all the topics women talk about, then stay alone. Women themselves marginalize you, women themselves are the cruellest throws at other women.

%d bloggers like this: