jesus man, i left seven years ago

from my home town. i thought my mother taught me better than that. for seven years i wondered how life could have otherwise turned out.  i kept applying old hierarchies and shadows of values to new surroundings. i wandered. i thought i was the one who was worse off.

and now in seven minutes i see. seven years passed, eighty-four months. and you are still there, motionless, myopic and comtempt! it took me seven minuted to flick through the pictures. you lying in the crystal water in Bali. you smiling at a camel in sharm-el-shiek. you drinking from a taittinger bottle. you lighting up a cigarette in rue Grenelle. you smiling at the camera from a green sofa and a crimison top.

i was told i was the quietest and the most conventional one. never loud never smart. a pretty kid, a goodlooking girl, and a lovely mother to be. a wife to rely on.

now here you go, hero. i talk too much, i took the bravest choices and i am not going to get married. a-ha, i got you. be cool.

well, i was having lunch at the DLG

let me warn you, the following is Sad.

those luggages, those that have a shape which is out of fashion since longe, with dust all over, and with belts to keep them together
(belts that once had the colours of the rainbow, and now have to colours of the vegetable soup that your aunt makes in the rainy and hopeless days)

THOSE luggages are the luggages that are left on the luggage belt of any airport in any country
(no matter when you land no matter with whom you land)

They are there even right now, turning all the way all the time, with no owner and no peace, shedding some allure of bad luck as those early 20th century black and white pictures
(that the same above mentioned aunt keeps on her desk with a sample miniature bottle of a too sweet and too cheap perfume)

what a sight, those luggages

to the lost hat

when i was a kid i used to go to bed with a peluche. it was a dolphin from Trudi, and his name was Dolphin. I remember, but i might be wrong, that he was a present from my maternal granmather (who is still with us, thanks God). I got it when i was approximately 3 or 4 maybe, because as far as i can go with my memory, he was there. He slept with me for 15 or 14 years, depending on when i got it. I should stress it would be unfair to say that I slept with him, he is a very dignified being, it was his choice to curl up somewhere beneath the blanket. To confirm this, some nights he jumped out of the bed on the floor. His choice, at any rate. When I was 16 I went to Berlin, on a trip with my parents. When I got home, I realised he stayed in Berlin, which was very inconsiderate, because there it is way too cold for a mediterrean dolphin like him. So I called back the Hotel personnel, who kindly sent it back to me by mail (free of charge, praised be the Germans!).
The year after, i went to the Canary Islands. When I got back, I discovered that he left, again. But this time it was in the warm sea down there, so i decided that he didn’t want to be rescued and I didn’t need to be rescued as well.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
Ecclesiastes, 3. 1