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.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 