STORY OF UNDERWATER

At the bottom of the sea the sun never sets. The sun, which seems to go out in the waves, has no place in the ocean depths. LAYA swam fearlessly among the corals and sponges of the seabed, of a dense, blackish blue; a viscous darkness for human eyes, but not for her, who possessed it, controlled it. It wasn't like that on dry land where darkness possessed her, controlled her. It infiltrated her body more and more every day: a tarry poison that penetrated her eyes, nose, mouth and filled her head, polluting her ideas; then he went down to force her breath, to numb her limbs. Although LAYA felt that something was wrong, that it wasn't right, that she had to rebel, she never did. The darkness comforted her, cradled her, clutching her organs, her muscles, her bones that she could no longer move. And she didn't want to move. When the darkness was thicker, his heart, so impregnated, slowed down so much, stuck, that LAYA watched him concentrated, wondering how faintly he could beat before stopping.

In his world it was not like that. In his world, even darkness was his subject.

He swam to the surface; hidden among the rocks she looked at the city where she had no place she could call her own, where all affection was a stranger. He watched the sunset color the horizon pink and lilac. He watched the sea sparkle with gold and wondered what could be so precious there, in the dry, for which it was worth facing so many humiliations, so many failures, so many losses. He watched his tail flicker under the surface of the water which gradually became an increasingly intense crimson: the princess, the symbol of a proud people, the leader of a valiant army, swam in those red, violent waters. There she was not placid, meek or compliant, there she was not herself, there she was free from herself.

She plunged back into the inflamed waters, swimming energetically towards the bottom, where she was alive and light and strong, where she didn't need or want to hide. He spotted a scorpionfish camouflaged among the rocks: he pounced on it and scrubbed it unceremoniously with his sharp teeth. The flesh tearing deliciously, the brittle bone shattering under her jaws gave her a thrill of satisfaction. She felt no pity for that fish, as she was sure no one felt for her.

VENICE DREAMING

Estoy escribiendo nuevas paginas
Nuevas palabras Historias con otro sabor
Otro olor Tengo miedo de tocarlos a veces
No arruinarlos Eres como el cristal
Brillas con el arcoíris incluso cuando caes en tu oscuridad
Cuando te aíslas y buscas la llama en el espejo que te encendí
Que sepas que no estas solo alguien lejano te ha extendido su manita y te acaricia .

He encontrado mi lugar en el mundo: un grupo de mujeres son "donantes de abrazos" para bebés necesitados en el hospital. También quiero dar mimos a esos maravillosos pequeños.
Últimamente se han estado produciendo una serie de hechos y situaciones impactantes, por decir lo mínimo, que todavía no puedo entender.

En solo dos días, me encontré catapultado a un mundo del que siempre he huido durante años; una realidad formada por focos y roles que deben mantenerse claramente visibles, con el fin de lograr objetivos predefinidos. Tengo muchas ideas, pero no me gusta estar ahí para que todos las vean, soy alguien que prefiere pasar el rato detrás de escena, en lugar de mantener a los demás en lo alto de un escenario.

Sin embargo, a pesar de mi timidez crónica, hoy me encuentro asumiendo el cargo de Consejero en el Patronato de un Onlus, trabajando para hacer realidad un futuro mejor, ya que sé muy bien que si no te arremangas, acabas ser aplastado por el peso del egocentrismo de los demás.

Aquí, quizás esta sea la motivación que me empuja a continuar: dar mi aporte a quienes están pasando por las mismas dificultades que yo, pero que no tienen los mismos medios que los míos.

I WAS FULL OF IDEAS

Me too I would have liked to have few ideas, but fixed; instead of ideas I have many, but there is no glue that keeps them attached to me. Then those go far away, take flights that are not so controlled, they collide against some walls at times, at other times they get stuck in the trees and remain hanging somewhere that in any case I can no longer reach. Instead what I like, and what I like is what I do not stop wanting. I don't know if the nature of desires is to change and disappear: I only know that mine is to keep them close to me, close enough to let my heart and body, thoughts and all the pains related to thoughts shape me; I let them make me somatize, host the pain even on the skin and under the skin, in all the organs corroded by what I want and cannot have. I know it never changes what I like, but it was more important to find out what it is that I like. There was a time that seems very distant to me when I needed the wishes of others to discover mine, and I swear that I also tried to adapt, to file my edges to please me what everyone liked. Then I learned to choose, to choose for me and to choose me, which in the end I only recognize myself in what I like. And so I choose to prefer my pale skin to tanned shoulders, and black eyes to my almost transparent ones; I choose to prefer the leaves of the trees that are moved by the wind in the spring, and to let myself be bothered without shame by the smell of the sea in the summer; I choose to prefer D'Annunzio to Pirandello, and also to fight to defend this position if needed and for nothing else; I choose to shop together rather than watch a movie, kiss you with your eyes open to see that you laugh a little; I choose to prefer to offer you a dinner and then ask you if you will buy me a flower: it is a slightly more beautiful gesture of love; and I prefer to wake up early in the morning, sunset on the marble of the cathedral to the one on the sea, tea with coffee, being touched, lilies with roses. And then I know that I prefer to remember these things, to write them so as not to forget them, because it is always better to know where to return: in fact I choose to prefer to write to everything else, because it reminds me how to do it.

I WAS AN ABUSED CHILD

I have been abused since I was only 4 years old and I still don’t know if it was someone from my family (uncle, cousin, grandfather, or friend of the family) and therefore my happiness was taken away from me so quickly that all theories and ideas of world are not enough to bring my soul back to life. I also went through years of therapy, but you will understand that undergoing such bad things as a child destroyed my inner world. I saved myself, thanks to my imagination and creativity. I have never had help from anyone and even if I always do good in return I always receive evil. I don’t believe in happiness. It is a harmful and illusory world. 

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