For four months I have done nothing. And for another, to graduate in Arts, I mean little in the end, even just on the surface. And I mean on the land surface. Everyone has their own way of shifted (say a friend of mine who has just married) between the mainland and the sea. Everyone has their own way to tell when it's time to return to the sea, as no better than Moby Dick Melville describes incipit: "Every time I perceive to pose a scowling lips, every time I go down in the soul like a damp, drizzly November, every time I find myself involuntarily pausing before funeral homes and leave behind to all the funeral I meet, and especially whenever my hypos get such strong in me that I need a strong moral principle to prevent me from stepping into the street and methodically on the ground throwing his hat to the people, then decide it's time get to sea as soon as possible. This is my substitute for pistol and the bullet. With a nice gesture philosophical Cato throws himself on the sword: keto keto I put myself into the sea. There is nothing surprising in this. If only they knew, most men eat at one time or another, each in its size, more or less the same feelings that I have I to the ocean. "
Now, in these months I spent time with many people. Among these people there are my best friends, strange people, foreign community. Strange to themselves, strange between us, that another strange encounter. Yet there is something common, which allows us to use words like faith, family (for those who did not had a normal, or as an alternative to it), but this town define d (n) homination - because it is something that dominates us and we appoint, any more than we master and we name him - is difficult. I speak of my friends, but is a reflection that each can spend with their own, it is a fact of everyday life, which continues to amaze me. In
Duepuntozero thought - one that threatens assomilglia in writing, to Orwell's Doublethink - it happens you are looking for something, possibly on Wikipedia, and then t'incammini for a link, as you would for a secondary path in a medieval town, you know, Siena. So as you try your Piazza del Campo - in my case the meaning of "proprioception" - end up wriggling linkettino for a small blue says: "Labyrinth".
And you discover that there are fish in Africa that have at their core a maze (labyrinth), a body that also allows him to breathe air, di trascorrere un po' di tempo sulla terra. Eccoci, penso. Siamo noi, questi piccoli animali a bocca aperta. Così quando penso a R., che - pesce piccolo e muscolare - si spinge all'aperto, nelle pubbliche relazioni, nel precariato, nell'ansia da patentino sociale, vedo le branchie chiuse, e il suo labirinto in azione. E poi Z., che - mentre in mare scrive pensieri con piccole bolle, inventa lessico, produce parole, e tutti lo ascoltiamo in cerchio - sulla terra riproduce parole che non partecipa, grazie al suo labirinto riesce a non vomitare in faccia ai clienti l'inchiostro tossico da cui si sparpagliano i manuali universitari, gli opuscoli per ditte navali, i ciclostilati dei partiti. Et cetera et cetera. Quando li incontro, in superficie, vedo the features contract more or less, depending on how long missing from the sea. We do not say much, we say goodbye to the gills narrow, sure to meet again on the seabed. And I think that after all our labyrinth is an organ that we have built touching each other, which allows us to feed stories to bring to the sea. The labyrinth that we are protecting us. The labyrinth is a bit 'everywhere, from Australia to Bologna, from Paris to Finland, reproduce, alter climate and habits, the only way to recognize and touch the belly. If you experience strange cunicolanti cartilage, offer water - verbal or physical - and if you see his face relax, open strange slits on the sides where they exit from strange voices, strange talk like a waterfall bolle, eccoli.
Avviso ai naviganti: ci si vede in mare!
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