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The Kite

Put one evening at dinner.
Put one evening at dinner with chicken, Paul and their loves.
Suppose we talk, we laugh a lot and often strap.
Put that in the midst of words that follow, come back, overlap as often happens among us that together we are an ocean with many waves, then eventually something big to me lockup soul. Put
saying that I was playing a decisive concept of sharpness Bina me reveal a paradox. Put
I feel displaced, disoriented, perplexed.
Suppose then that sea of \u200b\u200bwaves converge on me to reshuffle the confused ideas. Put that if n'esca
Polle, as only his genius can do with a simple example of simple but full of power and poetry. And I, who in a moment I was having dropped sharply, muffled in my dreams, I find myself back up there to twirl in a sky more blue.
Put me to be thinking that it's not true that "talk about important things," the so-called "maximum systems, "must necessarily be a ball, a hard, dead serious engagement of the mind.
Suppose instead, as always happens between us in this beautiful evening has not done anything else. Yet everything seemed a game, crazy, laughing.

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Pearl Grey

The sky is a gray pearl
Walk The
wrapped in your coat collar turned up, an umbrella between his fingers
The city life flashes
flat on the balustrade
There right there
slipped away from us

Your bold steps
Your legs
pants puffing on your shoes I follow
the shape of your body
quick look a shadow that hides your face
Lift your chin ...

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To As far as possible, no regrets

A friend posts a video on Facebook.

highlight of a movie scene where he tells her: "This time I wanted to kiss you on the boat."

"Me too." She says.

They kiss.

Life has given to both a second chance.

Nothing original. It was written and narrated by film and literature on the very unspoken words, gestures withheld the regrets that accompany both having the other.

Ok, this is an aspect of history, what could be and was not.

But is not what interests me. To me the scene of the movie did come up with another, opened to the thought all the pieces of life that concerns me and that I'll never know.

How many words were for me is I have been withheld, those gestures that I was delighted I have been denied, what is left inside of me a person without my ever did share?

suddenly appeared to me obvious that a huge injustice, almost unbearable for the damage emotivo che mi ha procurato. È un tesoro che mi è stato celato, nascosto. Una ricchezza che mi avrebbe permesso di camminare con più baldanza tra le strade di questa terra complicata. Una coperta calda ed avvolgente che avrebbe reso più morbide le miei notti, più dolci i miei ricordi, più profondi alcuni legami.

E chi ci ha guadagnato in questo insopportabile silenzio emotivo? Nessuno credo.

E non capisco perché a volte, e sempre che ci dica bene, sia necessario attendere decenni per conoscere una parola, un sentimento, fosse anche un   pensiero che non poteva che farci piacere.

Uno strano muro di pudori s’innalza spesso between us and the rest of the world. A shyness that stops beautiful words, loving gestures, confirmations on our quality.

A strange confidence that strikes us, on closer inspection, much more to say on the beautiful rather than ugly, as common sense would appear obvious. And instead due to a strange phenomenon, the bad words, bad deeds, the actions we are rude which is a marvel, fluid and spontaneous. For the rest we are tyrannized by invincible blushes.

be paradoxical us humans.

Last night I asked a friend of mine: Do you like autumn?

"The fall was time of year when planning to visit you. Since then I love this season. "

a trivial question, an answer unexpected emotion donated. This particular

so cute, so tender it remained for decades in the heart of a man to whom they are closely linked. Maybe it was not the occasion to tell me, was probably not essential that I knew it, but if you think about it with me who would share this memory?

And then, but why should he hide it? What is so shameful to say to another person: yes, you account for me? What is this strange shame which assails us in having to admit that the person X has its own niche in our hearts? What's all this barrenness, this emotional sadness?

But there seems folly to think that, without knowing it, we often live parallel lives of thousands in the heart and mind of God knows how many people. Lives in which we continue to exist, nourish and excite.

Ultimately, it is as if there were barred windows behind which we "are" beyond our everyday perception of reality.

Not everything can be told, the secrets have their charm, but I propose a time limit beyond which the right to what belongs to us, because we have provoked, There is in some measure returned, or at least be shared with us.

And just because you think I preach and not practice for several years my philosophy is: No regrets as possible.

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The horror that walks beside

This is a world gone mad, crazy indeed humanity, the world as natural environment and it has nothing to do worth emphasizing. Aberrations we see are almost always the work of human beings. Increasingly, I do not want to talk, but they are too sick and angry to be silent.

my contemporaries call modern and disparage the values \u200b\u200band principles that my ancestors believed in the basic respect for others. Today, everything slips away, everything is absorbed by our minds, forgotten by our consciences. We now find ourselves in a modern new part of prehistoric at the mercy of instincts and needs that we do not know or do not want to control. There are of course mental illness on which they are unable to say anything. In contrast, however, there are shared social behavior and in some cases upheld, against which we can all stop and think.

Violence against women is not a novelty of our age, is a deviation that accompanies the journey of mankind. Yet this ruthless and unjustifiable violence does not make us shudder, not enough in my opinion. Really be aware of many abuses of so many abuses of power, depravity we abhor? Or our mind and our consciousness have learned all too well where to relocate it suits us what disturbs us?

We see ourselves as more culturally prepared, civil, ethical, progressive technology, we self praise and in some cases to glorify the social gains that we have arrived yet, paradoxically, do not stop using hateful violence, sometimes subtle, always intolerable against weak or assumed. Mostly those that are made by the overflow of violence itself, which takes advantage of social tyranny, which they use them, which they deny. Violence is violence in whatever form it appears, use any instrument, whenever a person tries to bend to the will that does not belong. But it is a form of non-violence and respect the way in which women do not cease to be represented, considered diminished. The way, making sex objects, try to reduce them to a soulless entity. But without soul, without the ability to feel real feelings are those who act in this way, not who is the victim of an injustice.

I can not consider a civil kind, the human, which in 2010 still needs to draft, sign and countersign rights that should not even be a source of debate. He was born and is a person, period. Equal rights, equal duties. Still thinking about what we should? The obvious?

It is not so. The Charter of the Rights of the constant necessity of having to reaffirm the equal rights of women, the disabled, homosexuals, the poor, I confirm that the course has not been achieved and the desire to dominate has never left mankind I belong to.

I know it's a great speech, I know that for completeness, it should touch many aspects, I know that not all humans are equal and that there are enlightened men and women who with their intelligence and the famous battles allow progress of humanity. They're the good part that makes this world wonderful.

But today was killed a 15 year old girl guilty only of having unleashed becere desires of a being that does not even want to define.

I am a woman, I am a mother and a person and never stop shouting my horror and my anger in front of any type of violence. I always try to fight it as I can, writing, speaking, paying attention, educating my child respect for others, not indifferent reference, never forgetting, even for a moment, that violence can strike anyone at any point in their lives through a thousand forms. The monsters, as they teach the stories that we tell our children at random, they can hide behind every face, even the most unexpected.