Trembling, mirage.
Wait.
Promise.
A mouth to go deep inside the stellar corolla.
Wet.
Quivering.
Released.
On the water of a small stream,
where has a heron passed.
Return to fetal silence.
In the greenery that welcomes, breathes, the caress of dragonflies.
In its wings I have my future day.
Not lived.
Donated.
Gifted.
Is it more important to know how to repair a car or paint a picture? Is it more important to know how to repair a boiler or create a sculpture? Is it more important to repair a fridge than to sew a bag? If you don't know how to fix certain objects then you can't drive, you can't store food, you can't heat the water. Let's imagine for a moment that there is a black out and you can no longer turn on the TV, the fridge will not be able to turn on, the car batteries will not be able to charge. Therefore it will be necessary to do without everything that requires electricity and repairs. So what will humans do? Will they return to observe the paintings they have in the house and dream? No, because they didn't want to spend money to buy the paintings but only spent money on useful things. And art is not considered useful. But in the future all the appliances will be turned off and whoever has books and paintings will be able to dream. Everyone else will perhaps die of boredom.
... present, past and future, three crystalline and infinite filaments, follow their own destinies unaware of each other and can meet only in a single point of the universe: the only, the absolute, the thin strip of existence in which they come together in a deafening moment that is nothing but life ...
But if past, present and future know how to make themselves independent of each other, perhaps they also have the obligation to clear themselves into forty-six reckless chromosomes which, after having grouped together in that deafening moment, right on the edge of that single thin limb of existence, they have evolved into a self-conscious matter which, once again, is nothing more than human life ...
You yearn for freedom and independence in a world that is already a prison in itself, these wings trapped under the shoulder blades, under the burning skin, we are those of the sunrises and sunsets, those who stay awake at night, who are lost during the day, we are children of freedom, those who “wow if it’s dangerous, or frightening, I only feel alive if my heart is in my mouth” Those a bit like that, who caress you a second and a second later want their own spaces, those considered crazy, the ones that “you are crazy who don’t know what it means to jump and get hurt, get up and try again”. Unfortunately, even those who, if they feel too attached to something or someone, leave. Those who are a bit disappointed when someone gives us delusional ones, those who leave without specific plans, who live a little for the day, who create adventures because it is so beautiful, who are enchanted in front of storms and rain, who a little and also inside us, but it doesn’t matter, we are happy only if free, safe only if a little crazy. Stripped from the wind. We are all in the fear of the future. We don’t eat. We don’t sleep. We are not hungry for roads. We don’t travel anymore inside the Moon.
“What are visions of the future? Who are the aliens and why do they sometimes contact us? Human beings have become numb and can no longer understand the messages that the protagonist of this story brings to them through visions of the future. Could the Earth be saved?”
I translated this science fiction novel into English just to make you read something important. I had started writing it three years ago, after some strange things had happened, but I had left it incomplete for all these years. But now I have finished it by putting in it the visions concerning the future of this planet and which I believe are very important to know.
I’ve seen people leave my life without even apologizing for the inconvenience. Then I saw other people sitting quietly on a bench waiting for me to notice they were there for me. I met people who just met made me think “I could never share time with someone like this” and became the most important people in my life. There were those that I liked at first glance and they then showed me, along the way, that it was just superficiality and mistake. Those people I judged negatively only because they didn’t convince me, or because they didn’t think like me on many and many topics and then, they taught me that, despite the differences, people know how to be beautiful precisely because they are “different” . I met someone who made me say with conviction “I will never forget you again”, but after a couple of years I no longer wondered where they were and how they were, not out of malice, but because sometimes it just happens. And then I met those who traveled only a little way with me and in the end embarked on their path, different and distinct from mine and has remained with me even today. Because life is a way to go. You will meet many faces, some will simply remain so, others will be much more than this.In a moment of time, my life took a break. She relaxed and focused on the world around her. It was all chaotic and peaceful at the same time, like calm water in the open sea and destructively marvelous crashing against the rocks. And that was how I felt that sentimental gash; I felt like a hot wind breaking on my skin, it was the steam that the old train was expelling from the fireplace, while its engine was revving and pawing, it made its way into the walls of my heart. A crust by now settled there was to protect it, a really hard crust, behind which there was hidden a roaring and pounding heart like that train. That crust, under that warm wind of steam, began to weaken, and the vibrations of the engine cracked it. The future refused to answer his questions, however, telling him that he had to focus on the present, do what he felt without looking away.It’s all so fleeting, volatile Speed is relative, pure mental perception Time, the only constant of everything. Therefore learning through attraction complexes is nothing more than a distraction of the space-time perception of the present around. If there is interest in an unknown girl, but present in the present, it is good to express it, against any reaction. Imperturbability is the ability to have firmness of mind. This, combined with the passage of time, puts up resistance to this, however, releasing awareness of actions and consequences. This is to say that if you find a girl you like, don’t mind talking to her. Don’t let time try to unite you, because time will do nothing like that for you, no one.
I don’t understand those people who when they turn one more year get demoralized because they feel older and older or who say they don’t give a damn. Instead of focusing on the fewer years they have left to live, they should be happy that they lived up to that point. Each additional year of life is a wonderful milestone to celebrate, as every day of life should be. Just for the fact of opening your eyes and having another day to live in front of you, you should smile and try to feed that smile all day. When you are young, you take everything for granted, including your health, and you don’t fully realize the extraordinary power you have right now. We often focus on a happiness that will only be achievable in the near future, but the future is only our imagination. Today it is reality. The air we are breathing, the beating of our heart and the sweat of our hands, these sensations of the present are what we take for granted as if they were eternal but they are not. Our vital senses take on their true value only when we are about to lose them. Do not allow this to happen, whatever you are doing stop for a moment and completely forget about it, breathe deeply closing your eyes, listening to your beat, touching your hands but above all enjoying being alive with a sublime smile.I look at your graceful figure and no fantasy is needed for me to follow the return to the origins, your morning toilet is of fine oyster cloth and you are an invitation to a mud bath, your blue eye stares at me through a milky keratome, with the stiff forefinger you push aside the yellow twigs of the weeping willow and you know well that you can expect all the worst things from me. Emotional flashes and a hundred and eight gold in the finish open the way to the sewer, to the sad weekend that I am now starting to live, the dress of which I dream is woven in the rice color of Siberian cellulose, the green hands of eight hundred girls are the foundation of a sweet confession, the isoipse of the rice solidify you with a courtesy mask and the ratchets of your porcelain ears are perfectly hidden in the listening bush of your oxide macerated hair. The spheres of things and events triggered, against the course of the clock hands, run at zero time, however a single day spent with the beloved girl on a Norwegian glacier is the love bag of all worthy people.Splinters of smashed dolls hurt my soul, the caterpillar crawling right next to my eye is bigger than the express train that passes in the distance. I don’t know which mountain farmer when he couldn’t find work years ago he started talking to a sheep. I see how my life is sucked into my mother’s life, I see how I am wound back from the umbilical cord to the womb of the progenitor Eve. I see how the stained underpants are the imprint of infinity and the intestines stirred by noble horror lead to a higher vision, I see my semen as against the current being sucked backwards to the first pollution like a mountain trout, I see how from the organ sexual intercourse of all my ancestors are sucked back into the spermatic canal of the progenitor Adam. I live tactfully the resection of the rib that I still miss today.And in the meantime this is your little waist and this is your pleated skirt from the belt to the delicate crepe and this is your toilet of the silky ivory color and it is an empire model and this is the confirmation dress kept as a souvenir and this is your back dappled by beer coasters and these are your loose hair and staves of music flow from your head. I see how naked you are now sailing under the dark beams, I see your rhythmic hands illuminated by the violent spray of the yellow chandelier, I see how from your little beating legs gush springs, beads that rise from all the pores of your body, you are immersed in a bathroom phosphorescent and vibrating ankles whistling rapids of seltzer, sparkling wines, sparkling fins, mineral feathers, flying fish wings, the flys that the beautiful and young Greek god Mercury wears on his ankles. The full moon shines with the footprint of Armstrong’s sole, but I was most moved by the news of the evening newspaper, a 68-year-old medical herb picker dozed off on a flowering meadow and was sucked into a lawn mower and her corpse escaped from the car along with the medicinal herbs and hay beyond recognition.Along the belt of the streets I return to the origin of going, the revealing splendor of animal experiences wishes pools full of children to thirsty cities. Your myosotide eye broken by a sliver of Modra majolica now understands my cold gaze, rightly follow how the knife of my imagination pushes back to the sources of things. The last stream is sucked into the small river with the last drop, the last river is sucked into the ocean sea with the last clear cloud evaporating in the blue skies. I see how you follow this ascending fall with me, I see that not a single phase of this striptease has escaped you. Apparently I follow the memory of your white silk dress embroidered with gold, on the wrist the sleeve was decorated with slits for my desire, two hollow folds of cream yellow cashmere, but I follow all the more quickly as the pure source and the divine Needle they go towards spring and you smile at me when you see how I take handfuls full of creative clay in my hands and smelling the earth I smell you too. Meanwhile I feel only in my brain the screeching of your sweet limbs, the skin you have adorned with tender cracks, you are transported by the coordinates of cigarette smoke, Climb high like the bubbles of seltzer, the trees and flowers describe circumferences, an apple falls from the melo, already with the apples in the seed, the last ruins of the evening slip silently into the soft dust, but in the meantime I like the excesses and extravagances of the songs with poetry in the newspapers.Graceful comes in the wave of the evening a lonely throb of a star. Gradually a light cloud the pupil closes them smiling; and as she passes with veils and feathers, in the great blue tremulous sparks they are born in swarms, they are born in garlands, are born in a hundred, are born in a thousand: but I don’t see you anymore, my star. Liable illusion How many anxieties you neglect. I woke up. Beyond the intoxicating essence of your insidious substance Vast expanses of multicolored black poppies They linger mischievous Willing to stem severely every unwary dream. Cleverly designed they will refute the insolent lie to which you are prone Allocating your vain shy escape to an inevitable departure. We cannot evade An intimate truth. Along the way we meet as graceful souls. Sensitive fairies. You covet butterflies and you love days sitting together.
Dear Alice,
perhaps
Wonderland
it's not that unattainable
as you thought
and maybe
the mad Hatter
it's always been
behind the corner
waiting for you
and maybe
you just have to throw yourself
you have to let yourself fall
in what is the future
and you can't know
how big
will be that door
what you are waiting for
but you can rest assured
because fate
will give you a way
to get to the wonderland in your core.
The heart is nothing more than a row of rooms, smaller and smaller, one leads into another through a closed door and stairs that descend. There are seven rooms in all. The heart of the heart is the seventh, the most difficult to reach, but the brightest because the walls are made of crystal. Every system evolves towards disorder. Everything is provisional, order cannot be sought where it cannot be found, the birth of a life is an ordered system, just as the birth of a project, the creation of something is a defeat for the universe and for entropy, because it represents what puts order in a disorderly context, the universe is always expanding towards disorder and will do everything to create more and more. Entropy always wins, each of us is destined to die, every material good to break and every emotional bond is destined to dissolve. The concept to quickly understand what this fascinating word means is this: Everything flows into disorder, every living being dies, every object breaks, is forgotten .. And we can’t do anything about it, life is disorder and despite the fact that we always try to put some order in our thoughts, in the our home, among our objects, it is not possible to avoid creating more disorder. But we will start over and continue to try to get out of the chaos.The universe is part of this one cry in this mysterious land, where everyone is born to die. Every tree and leaf, every star shows that the universe is part of this one cry that all life is known and welcomed and all that is loved will not be lost. Let it be. Let it be. Let things happen. Do not fill yourself with paranoid problems. Or worse still of fears. Sing. Dance. Dedicate songs. Dream. Dream a lot. And go out of your way to accomplish your goal. Rebel. Don’t get submissive. Don’t worry about the future. Don’t be afraid to get involved, to dare, prove yourself for who you are. Let yourself go, let yourself be carried away by life and emotions. There will be no second chance to relive certain moments. Go out. Go dance and come home at six in the morning. Or don’t go back at all. But don’t stay indoors. Don’t be proud. It is useless. Or rather, it only serves to keep people away. Everyone has had bad experiences. Everyone has had their disappointments. Don’t think you are the only one. But you don’t have to close in on yourself for this. Write those messages you don’t have the courage to send. Don’t be left with the doubt of how it could have gone. Don’t regret it. And don’t judge yourself. You are who you are. Don’t waste time with envy. There is no reason to have a plan B, because it distracts from plan A. Relax. Lie on the lawn and look at the sky. Go to the beach. Listen to the sound of the waves. Don’t pay attention to what people say. Yes solar, even pissed off. Don’t be afraid to laugh out loud. Read the instructions, even if you do your own thing. It is never too late to change. Or not to change to fact. Look at things from different points of view. Don’t be stubborn. Yes curious. Travel. Don’t take yourself too seriously. Not too lightly. People come and go. Like the seasons. Only promise if you are sure you will keep. Surprise yourself with the little things. Amaze with small gestures. Watch a lot of movies. Believe in many things. Especially in yourself. Laugh. Yes happy. I am wasting happiness. Because smile brings smile. Yes humble. Love so much, love everything, always love. Let things happen. Let it be as it should be. Let it be.
If you present yourself with a naked soul to a person, you are presenting yourself unarmed and defenseless. You are giving him all of you: hidden truths, your emotions, your soul. As you do this you need to be aware of it, you need to know that there can be an after-effect of ashes. You must know that if and when he goes away there will be nothing intact inside you because you have given him everything, but believe me when I tell you that there is nothing more beautiful than doing it totally without limits or inhibitions. Without putting a limit on your being. But while you do it you must not underestimate the consequences, the taste and the quantity of the tears of the after, of how much it could hurt the end or discover that it was only “lies of words” to enchant you and make “Strip” your soul. If you introduce yourself to a person with a naked soul, do not underestimate anything because afterwards it will be too late “to get dressed”I think it’s in our nature to want to try to the end. We are not made for lukewarm emotions: when we choose, for better or for worse, we do it with the heart and soul, and we do not give up until we have given our all, even what we did not think we had. Pain does not scare us, this is our problem, so we are willing to throw ourselves into the flames … All in a desperate attempt to keep a balance, something as abstract as love, which we women continue, despite everything, to believe that it is concrete and stable.
I like the idea of the station, of the train. If I stopped even for 5 minutes at the station, my whole life would pass from there: my life in the past and that of the future. I don’t know why but the stations have something magical about them. Sometimes I would like to go to the station and stop there for hours, just to observe the people, try to understand their gestures, their lives and their thoughts. Because only if we stop to observe can we capture the details. Also, I think it’s the only place that can give me the answers I’m looking for. For example, I could talk to a bum: after all they are nothing more than people who need someone to listen to them. I could find myself in front of scenes of children leaving their mothers to go to work or college or mothers leaving their babies to their husbands because I have to leave for work. I might meet travelers getting on and off from train to train to get around town. Or I could witness the kisses: the real kisses and the goodbyes, the real ones of two young lovers. Who knows maybe I could also find some crazy kid (like me) who has decided to escape but who in the end can’t because he knows that what he leaves is too precious for him and if anything one day he will take a train, it will be the one for eternity.Or maybe the person I really imagine I’m meeting is a woman. I don’t know what age, maybe around fifty, or maybe younger, I don’t know, I know for sure that I could share my whole life with her. I know that I would not hesitate so much to tell him all the things I have never told anyone, everything I have inside and I know that behind his silences his answers would be hidden. A person who would be able to undress me, in short. To strip myself not of the clothes, but of the masks that society obliges me to wear, that I manage to strip my soul: to dig inside myself. I love this type folks. But I don’t just love the people I can find there, I also like the objects, the sounds we find in the station. For example, his bell always reminds me of the school bell, and how at school it rang when the time changed at the station it rings when a train arrives. The benches make me reflect on how sometimes it is bad to wait for someone or something that does not arrive, and then all the tiredness that we carry with us. Then there are the time tables that remind me that everything has a time: life is based on time and it is up to us to decide how to occupy the waiting moments.Then there are the tracks … well I love those. You never know where they end up, you only see infinity in front of you and behind you, and then if you see them at dawn, what a strange effect they have on you. And then the tracks made me understand that coincidences are nothing more than a pause: you stop, parallel to something else and after a while you leave. And since for me life is made up of coincidences, because I don’t believe in destiny, I realized that every time I stop I leave with a different baggage, richer or poorer, ruined or healthy and shining, but the fact is that that coincidence has changed something. That’s why I don’t believe in destiny, we are the proponents of destiny… at every coincidence we stop and it is precisely in that waiting time that we decide our future.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 