It' all my life I'm watching you you look at the intent, so that discouraged attention knows how to listen or with the participation of all I am capable of, and the more you know, the more I realize that we are equal. One of the things that strikes me is our peevish victimhood, the indifference to the problems in our survey more or less real, more or less solved. We poison each other with a bruised self-pity and then clenching his teeth, and while we send down the most idiotic of us smile stretches his face into a grimace worthy of note for small start merciless tragicomedy of big performances every day; the performances that give a damn because we served up in the first place to ourselves. Flock, you lift the curtain, the actors are great, great start on the Vaudeville pretend nothing happened. Make a pig to a friend, you blame the family that does not fit, you make a false step you know you regret it, perhaps in good faith, but you do ignore it.
Some children cover their eyes with their hands when they are afraid, the logic is that if you do not see the evil
evil does not exist, those children me and you today, we feel the evil inside and outside of us do not face, not overlooked, not cross it and not avoid it ... and if you think you're cool I'll shoot myself in my recipe for living reassuring in these cases. I with my small antique and adolescent pain, physical and existential, heroic and grotesque, almost always more unreal to what is currently not excite me admit: I got trinket in all the ways suggested by the wildest imagination with mixed results at least. And indeed the range you know, maybe you and I pretend to be anything is the most brilliant of the story, perhaps to make the gall we live a hundred years, but the catch is: the trick of Pulcinella contraindication to alter states of memory.
I'm serious, I swear, I saw with my own eyes people who are generally smart stubbornly turn their backs to a difficulty that, who knows, maybe this time they were real, and completely forget them. Tabula Rasa. Then maybe you rail against legions of emergencies invented for the consumption of their own evil ... to live as the traveler quell'ingegnoso knight fighting puppets and windmills, only if the Quijote was a sad and true metaphor of our folly, you and me when our madness we live it become the only real balls. So one ends up blinking green maybe there are problems, and as long as it is his, in trouble, that's fine, I'm not sure I make the right to lecture anyone, but when the problems which lets show of indifference is also mine , yours, then m'incazzo, and I really do not understand you, if not t'incazzi with me.
take another well-known rider, our Chairman of the Board brand new: he is the typical friend who is distracting. And by all means try to drag you to hand in his Toyland. Nemesis for years of case law in every shape and color are on him like the condor, and the way risk in the event of evidence of his guilt, to pull back the wrath of his countrymen (that of the rest of the world, if the adult world ' deserved it for some time, but this is a personal opinion). Now we have made it absurd to blame: the ghosts of his past dirty in front of the parade as a procession of ghosts of Christmas Past, I give the idea? A hypothetical Silvio, realized his wrong dall'onta disturbed, rushed to cover themselves head ash and justified: the first in front of himself for the violence that is inflicted (in the range of knowledge, maybe he believes in karma), and then, hell, you and me. To you and me that every day we look at the boat on which willy-nilly and we are sailing in front of so many absurdities, so many injustices we see him losing skid and meaning: a bateau ivre that with more or less conniving we have entrusted to this ineffable captain. But what is the last thought of not hypothetical, Silvio, Silvio real, Grand Vizier of all Pulcinella in Italy? Get rid of those interceptions than any other tool that allowed all but a precarious grip on reality of his deeds (which acts as the captain of the Ark of miracles, also concern you and I), in other words, to close, and let us close our eyes (or in this case ears) with the noble aim of allowing everyone to continue to the best of their resources to pretend anything. The logic is that if you do not see the evil, evil does not exist.
I dedicate this posting to a friend who a few days ago, at work, decided not to ignore it and put it across in front of an unjustified charge at windmills. Do not worry. It 's over-thinking regularly scaled from Pulcinella. And I close with a small consideration: if you come to read this far these Beppe Grillo even had sleepless delirium, or even make me bring up something, you're really fruit. But to show you that I'm not being serious about sending the song that, for some reason, spin around in my head since I started thinking about this matter and that at this moment is keeping me up in spite of a perfectly right out of place.
Some children cover their eyes with their hands when they are afraid, the logic is that if you do not see the evil
evil does not exist, those children me and you today, we feel the evil inside and outside of us do not face, not overlooked, not cross it and not avoid it ... and if you think you're cool I'll shoot myself in my recipe for living reassuring in these cases. I with my small antique and adolescent pain, physical and existential, heroic and grotesque, almost always more unreal to what is currently not excite me admit: I got trinket in all the ways suggested by the wildest imagination with mixed results at least. And indeed the range you know, maybe you and I pretend to be anything is the most brilliant of the story, perhaps to make the gall we live a hundred years, but the catch is: the trick of Pulcinella contraindication to alter states of memory. I'm serious, I swear, I saw with my own eyes people who are generally smart stubbornly turn their backs to a difficulty that, who knows, maybe this time they were real, and completely forget them. Tabula Rasa. Then maybe you rail against legions of emergencies invented for the consumption of their own evil ... to live as the traveler quell'ingegnoso knight fighting puppets and windmills, only if the Quijote was a sad and true metaphor of our folly, you and me when our madness we live it become the only real balls. So one ends up blinking green maybe there are problems, and as long as it is his, in trouble, that's fine, I'm not sure I make the right to lecture anyone, but when the problems which lets show of indifference is also mine , yours, then m'incazzo, and I really do not understand you, if not t'incazzi with me.
take another well-known rider, our Chairman of the Board brand new: he is the typical friend who is distracting. And by all means try to drag you to hand in his Toyland. Nemesis for years of case law in every shape and color are on him like the condor, and the way risk in the event of evidence of his guilt, to pull back the wrath of his countrymen (that of the rest of the world, if the adult world ' deserved it for some time, but this is a personal opinion). Now we have made it absurd to blame: the ghosts of his past dirty in front of the parade as a procession of ghosts of Christmas Past, I give the idea? A hypothetical Silvio, realized his wrong dall'onta disturbed, rushed to cover themselves head ash and justified: the first in front of himself for the violence that is inflicted (in the range of knowledge, maybe he believes in karma), and then, hell, you and me. To you and me that every day we look at the boat on which willy-nilly and we are sailing in front of so many absurdities, so many injustices we see him losing skid and meaning: a bateau ivre that with more or less conniving we have entrusted to this ineffable captain. But what is the last thought of not hypothetical, Silvio, Silvio real, Grand Vizier of all Pulcinella in Italy? Get rid of those interceptions than any other tool that allowed all but a precarious grip on reality of his deeds (which acts as the captain of the Ark of miracles, also concern you and I), in other words, to close, and let us close our eyes (or in this case ears) with the noble aim of allowing everyone to continue to the best of their resources to pretend anything. The logic is that if you do not see the evil, evil does not exist.
I dedicate this posting to a friend who a few days ago, at work, decided not to ignore it and put it across in front of an unjustified charge at windmills. Do not worry. It 's over-thinking regularly scaled from Pulcinella. And I close with a small consideration: if you come to read this far these Beppe Grillo even had sleepless delirium, or even make me bring up something, you're really fruit. But to show you that I'm not being serious about sending the song that, for some reason, spin around in my head since I started thinking about this matter and that at this moment is keeping me up in spite of a perfectly right out of place.
We apologize for the ' Extemporaneous REFLECTION POLICY. PRIVATE to compensate for his brevity 'ADD LINK OF TWO videoconferencing journalist Marco Travaglio USEFUL IN MY OPINION TO INTRODUCE THE "QUESTION intercepted that, although it here with a certain lightness, I think it is SERIOUS. THANK YOU FOR YOUR ATTENTION. PASSAPAROLA 06/09/2008 - "TESTS OF FASCISM" E PASSAPAROLA 06/16/2008 - "IRON CURTAIN FOR CRIMINALS"
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