There are those days when you no longer understand anything, what up to a second before gave you happiness, makes you nervous, that thing that gave you suffering, becomes pathetic. In a few moments, everything loses sense and you feel like in a bubble, enclosed with your apathy, while the world around you goes on. Maybe some individual expresses perplexity, almost anger towards you, wondering and wondering, the why of all this … But you can’t answer yourself, let alone them and then you stay inside, waiting for the arrival of something or someone who instead of continuing to soap you, it will be able to burst your barrier and make you feel alive, again.
During these two years of imprisonment I have clung to words and promises that very often people make based on the circumstances, the moments of darkness. When this life returns to “normal” these words will have vanished, forgotten, because supported by a general illusion of being able to be better than what we really are. We are human. We need comfort and a foothold in our worst days. As soon as we get better we will behave exactly as we have always behaved. There is a pre-pandemic and a post-pandemic. The present we are experiencing is just a parenthesis that contains everything we would like to be but that our pride and our selfishness will extinguish as soon as possible.
I miss walking. Yes. Walking through alleys, villages, woods. Walking in search of things that I do not know and have never seen, of faces. Walk meeting faces. I smile many times at the people I meet and don’t know. Smiles come back to me. I’ve always done it, I do it on purpose. With the mask I will have to make my eyes smile more evidently. I will have to learn to collect returns quickly, so as not to lose them. Because the eyes change quickly,
faster than the mouth. I often think lately about my life a few years ago with all those dark moments. Especially shortly before leaving I had reached the point that I always tried to escape the eyes of others, I did not speak, I did not respond to provocations, as soon as I got out of the bus I hid in the gardens, I took the longest roads, those where no one passed but a few dogs with the master. Obviously not everyone judged me but I saw it like this after the sad judgments of some and imagined living in a giant plastic bubble where I could see the world and roll like a hamster and others saw me blurred or even better. they ignored me. It’s a lot of fun that I only got out of it by stepping forward instead, putting myself on the stage in bright colors without thinking about anything but who I loved. Perhaps I should understand this even now that I live more peacefully than avoiding exposure takes away both ugly and beautiful things equally.


Evenings spent in front of a pizza with the sand between your feet and the roar of the sea. You played an ocher guitar, I with my head between your legs, I watched you sing. We waited for the sunrise to go home, so that time would not pass, so that the summer would not end. You asked me to dance for you, I loved dancing, but with your eyes looking at me even more. You told me that some summers are never forgotten. That certain nights by the sea are for a few. Go home at 6 on tiptoe so as not to make noise, with my hair that smelled of the sea with my skin that smelled of you. Falling asleep and realizing it wasn’t just a dream. Some summers don’t forget you were right. But sorry if I can’t remember your name anymore. The virtual communities that have replaced the natural ones, create only the illusion of intimacy and a fiction of community. They are no substitutes for sitting together at a table, looking at each other, having a real conversation. Nor are these virtual communities capable of giving substance to personal identity, the primary reason for seeking them. If anything, they make it more difficult than it already is to agree with oneself. People walk here and there with earphones talking loudly alone, like schizophrenics, paranoid, oblivious to what is around them. Introspection is an activity that is disappearing. More and more people, when they find themselves facing moments of loneliness in their car, on the street or at the supermarket checkout, instead of collecting their thoughts, check if there are messages on the mobile phone to have some shred of evidence that shows them that someone is somewhere. part, maybe he wants them or needs them.
I would like to escape from here: I would like to go to another world or even, simply, in another place – maybe somewhere far away a place even beyond the sea. I would like to escape from here why all this world I don’t understand it at all: it seems unfair, distant it seems terrible, perfidious. Exhibitionist. I would like to go to another world, but I believe that even in another single era it might be enough for me because I’m not the first and I’m not the last to feel out of place to hate this era and the generation that lives it – my own generation. I wanted to live elsewhere: in other times in other spaces in other fashions, where a like on Instagram was not enough to woo you and they didn’t dedicate a song to you on Facebook but they invited you for a coffee or maybe two – even three – and they asked you to talk about yourself – because someone willing to listen to you it’s the best thing there is. I wanted the technology not to exist – indeed, that it existed yes, but in the right way within the limits. I wanted love to be shown in other ways not with photos on social media at all times or posts here and there full of cheesy phrases or senseless digs. I wanted a world just different from this world where they always kept in mind the right principles where rancor was always neglected, but above all technology, because technology has ruined many things and destroyed relationships, but most of all it made us more distant: because if we are happy, we write it on Facebook and if we are sad, we publish a sad sentence. I wanted a world that did not take us further and further, but that every moment draws us closer, where the technology was used only in extreme cases and not every day to say “I love you” to say “fuck you, it’s over”.
But you imagine a different world where we move our hands only to touch other hands to caress faces and not to touch infinite screens? Can you imagine it how many things would have been different how many of us would have been happy? Because eye to eye is something else entirely from profiles on profiles chat on chat “is typing” on “online”. A different world, that’s all I wanted everything I asked for. I wanted a world where love and feelings had nothing to do with exhibitionism: more complicated of course, less easy, but still more and more true. I wanted a world where there is no surrender for an unanswered view, where you had the courage to go under the house and throw stones at the glass of the window of his room to ask her to open up and speak to shout at her the truest “I love you” in the world. I wanted a world that I have always called “world of letters” where I could smell her perfume trapped between the lines of a letter arrived after a long time with the adrenaline of reading it with the anxiety “who knows if it comes”. I wanted to live in the world of letters to keep all the letters you would send me under the pillow to have good dreams, sleep with your perfume and wake up happy even when I reach out my arm from the largest part of the bed that I always leave you free – in case you come back – and I can’t find you.
How can we say that you and I are not now somehow linked by a chat, albeit virtual, nonetheless real? How do we say that just because I can’t reach out and touch yours we are not real acquaintances anyway? How can we deny having known each other, perhaps in the depths, only because we could not meet our eyes. Yet physical contact is so important, despite the fact that there are so many people around who never touch. What is this contact of minds, brains and hearts? How it works, How could it ever matter who I am physically, what my voice is like or what my smell is like, if we never meet? I was brought up and raised in a certain way. They taught me what respect is, the value of words and feelings. They gave me the ability to listen and explained that it is my right to speak. They taught me what a heart and a sincere feeling is. That not everything is real and that not everything can be played with. I have carried these values, these principles and these teachings with me always! Growing up, however, I learned that it is not always possible to respect all this. I realized that I didn’t have to lose what I was taught, but that along with it I had to learn to respond and defend myself. To ignore the stupidity. To leave hypocrisy and lies to his way. I have learned that silence is often more sacred and cutting than many words and that sometimes there are words that cannot and must not be kept silent. I don’t care about the saying “Always do good and even where you receive evil turn the other cheek”! Not me, I protect the other cheek with all of myself if you step on my feet, if you hurt me and I lack respect. I have no interest in saying who I am and how much I am worth, the only interest I have is to live with these priorities… I prefer to show it instead of saying it. Words are short-lived, the facts remain, you always remember them and leave something of you, for better or for worse. I understood that the words of “people” often hurt, they hurt me too. Then I also realized that from the words of truth to the words of those who are only interested in destroying you, there is an essential difference, and that some words not only must not touch you, but must not even be heard. I understood that I have to take with me who matters and who is worth, but to leave to his path those who should not be part of my life. And from the moment they are no longer a part, everything they say and do does not have and will never have the slightest value or even the slightest attention on my part.

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