Yesterday the courier brought me "On the Harmony of blood," the second book of Albino Guidi. Track 7 tonight at the Monza replica "maiden." Now is dawning, wherever there is silence, the birds have not yet been stored on the bushes outside the window to claim the daily food and the people (and Saturday) is still asleep. Magic Hour, such as dusk. Soon I will go with Betty over the fields and vineyards to the usual walk. Meet herons and hawks, squirrels and even deer. Their presence tells stories, all of nature tells stories. I also tell stories. That Albino against fanaticism and wickedness and that of a girl raped by her uncle. Tonight I will go to the theater and I'll be fine. "Lupusagnus" I will see my story. What could be better in life? In these times of poor people and escort of VIPs and villas in the Caribbean, lies, and selfishness, violence and cynicism, materialism and religious complicity ... because he knows that telling stories of real life! Are no proclamations, dogmas, doctrines, contracts, anathema, ban, delusions, condemnation, flattery, deception. They are just stories. Their quality is freedom to imagine and describe, as part of humanity they are born, in sincerity, in the synthesis of heart and mind that gives meaning and value to the passions, in the acceptance of man in his natural reality, the only way to get closer to the truth beyond the clerical ideologies and manipulation. We tell stories that do not feel the need to enslave the rich and powerful to enjoy the favors. We shy away from the dung heaps. In the world there will always be someone willing to listen to a story and we will always new ones. But do not listen only to those who want raccontiamole stories. The true stories are always talking to victims, including those of love, and the rich and powerful do not want to mirror rascality in which they are responsible.
Here, the sky is lit. And a blackbird was installed in the bowl pecking crumbs remained. Tear off a tit. Here comes the life of a new day.
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