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The appropriate measure, too, is the law?

But if a tyrant (or a bunch of morons, even democratically elected) and usurps the power to prescribe what people should do, is this a law? Alcibiades

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A fable without a moral

people, sooner or later, cease to be missed.

I can not say exactly how, or why.

I could not even tell when it happened or why I have not noticed before.

The absence is no longer blank .

Everything flows and we return to flow.

End of story.

A forgotten statue in a park in Milan.

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letter signed and sent

least once every two to three weeks, full of high hopes, I ask myself the objective of regularly read magazines and newspapers. To keep informed about current events, to know what happens in the world is important. Because if we do not know what's happening in the world we can not talk about it, and if we can not talk, we can not (try to) change it. But every time is tough. It 's hard to read about a journalism often not informed and does not plan to do so, because more important than truth and opinion and make news, create a scandal, to devour. It 's hard to read the news of this humanity without tears, without disgust, and without a big question mark on his face. Just a question, because frankly I do not know exactly what would be the questions. And every time I throw away the newspaper before you finish it, because I do not think I could stand another Brevini on a rape on a political scandal, on phone or on the last fight-with-dead for the queue at the cash bar. I try to ask if you can change something, but the ways to do and people think I look so old, so complicated, so deeply rooted: an inextricable tangle. It 's a question of mentality wrong for logical social ill, and there is no solution, perhaps this is human nature and all attempts at moral and social elevation were not merely attempts to force something rather artificial part of us from the Stone Age. I am not in charge. Wait until it passes: a few days, with a little 'courage and full of high hopes, I come to a newspaper stand and try again.

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Doubt

THE BELIEVER - I am a believer, man, plagued by doubt that God does not exist.

the atheist - I worse. I'm an atheist, sir, plagued by doubt that God, however, there really is terrible.

Achille Campanile - Tragedy at two bars

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never accept the hard truth:

" Sounds easy, but it is not
almost never
not a mystery is revealed

When you think: 'I do not see '

not going to miss the true love. "

lightness I want, I want to carelessness.

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For my torturer, Lieutenant D.

I have slapped
- no one had ever done -
electricity and
your fist
and that language from hooligan
too bloody for us to put blush

a locomotive all night in the belly
rainbows before the eyes
was as if I ate my mouth and drown
I had my eyes

hands everywhere and a great desire to laugh.
Then one morning, came another soldier resembled
you like a drop of blood
your wife, Lieutenant,
put sugar in your coffee?
Your mother dared to admire your good wax? You
stroked the hair of your kids?

Leila Djabali, Algerian poet, born in Algiers in 1940, captured and tortured by the French in prison in 1957 Barberousse

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devils and buffoons

who expects the world to go around the devils with horns and with the clowns bells will always be their prey, and their lure. Arthur Schopenhauer

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immobility

Even a stopped clock tells the time right twice a day. H. Hesse

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Any excuse for a killing (ie: the great, unexpected return of two wheels)

Here they are: they are again. A hot sun so this is making too much spring in February and no time to lose, you feel good without the sun without scarf and gloves. The bitter cold of a few weeks ago now seems a distant memory. Like ants with a drop of honey, such as women with the last dress on sale at 70% .. it took a few warm rays of sun to bring them back en masse and rage. Them bikes. Turn machine has become an enterprise considering the constant risk of smudging indelibly conscience and no criminal record. They acted quickly and silently this morning, feeling a reassuring warmth in the air, are now willing to battle stations, certain not to leave even a round or a discovery intersection.

So there was the nice guy he thought was a good idea to cross across the street just around the bend. But even more frightening is the lady of the unconscious boys-in-bike.

Mrs. Cycling is a double jeopardy: not only you never know what could be done, but even she knows. Loads of shopping bags hanging from arms and handlebars, with the basket full of bread and rack supported by the latest issue of Who and Novella 2000, the lady-in- limps bike (usually way) and swings from side to side dangerously. At a time when a car peeps from the beginning of the street, that's the lady part in the attack: a foot off the pedal and try to place it on the ground to slow down while the other continues to ride. Of course, the leg is too short and does not reach the road. So the lady-in-bicycle shall seraphic, defying gravity, more and more unstable and dangerously unbalanced on two wheels, skidding to the side of the road. Many are the questions in the mind of the driver to come: what will you do? Stifle or continue? But above all we will do it? It 'a snap: the machine goes and the road is free again. Thanks I do not know at what capacity the preposterous lady-in-BIKE able to recover the balance, to bring the foot on the pedal and continues as if nothing had happened. But one thing scares me even more: Gesture .

The gesture is nothing more than the threatening stick their arm suddenly to the right or left (on the heel of the medium). The gesture is always unexpected and compelling: it is an order that you can not subtract.

A man on a bicycle went this morning on the white line separating the lanes of the road when suddenly: the gesture. The terror in my eyes: When will run, but more importantly, where? Where?! Of course, cutting across a couple of lanes. In these cases, the yield is the only solution to quell'autoritario "Oh, I ride, then see you." We can not respond in any way: it is a card invincible ... praying that the brakes hold up.

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Contagion pessimistic

What immense burden of our fears. Ours, I would use this plural, because they are convinced that no one-to As can swear to the contrary-is immune. The fear seems the most universal of human emotions: what other state of mind, in fact, accompanies us always, every day, and unites us all, without distinction? Fear is part of us. E 'at the same time irrational, because we can not explain, and rational, because we can control it, defeat it, learn to live with it, curbed. I will not go into the details of illnesses or ratings (not that I need to explain that fear can have in different ways and at different levels): I think, as I write, only to myself and the fear of the future. The fear of not doing enough, not to realize a dream and not even able on trying to get-a-day far too many regrets. Not to be happy. being forced instead to settle: what will be, and whatever happens we will call it happiness. not, at least for me, constant anxiety that accompanies me breath by breath, every day. And 'subtle. He hides, he lets forget the thousands of thoughts and daily tasks and then, at night, when I least expected, crops up outside. Every time I'm amazed, every time that thought scares me like the first. I should be used, instead of every night and start again from the presentations: pleasure, my pleasure, what are you doing here does not t'aspettvo, I do, tell the future. With a degree of resigned serenity I started thinking of being ordered: the choice of not wanting to satisfy a standard is too high to hope for true happiness.