On my first trip to Italy, I wanted to greet Venice as a holy place. I somehow saw myself as a profane being, ready to plunge into the secrets of a city I could not understand, whose name only reminded me of an overwhelming culture and Renaissance busts. The floating city of Venice was, in my imagination, the same with the ancient city of Atlantis and I expected to see Venice too sink under the seas the very moment I would get to its lands. At the same time, my Venice was full of Romeos and Juliets cuddling all throughout the city, in the gondolas and on every narrow bridge. I was quite sure their tears of joy actually added up to the water that would eventually sink the city. That is why, when I got the chance to approach Venice, I was grateful to the fact that I managed to see it before it totally disappeared. Continue reading…
As a very determined video game player I have many times wondered if I’m not crossing the border between real and unreal too often at some point. What I mean is, am I trying to compensate for a sort of insufficient reality? Am I better off as a very voluptuous Lara Croft, or as a sensual assassin wreaking havoc in the Italian countryside? Or as an evil mastermind building cities and rushing against my opponent? Are video games my drugs? Giving me a sense I sometimes miss in my own life? Continue reading…
Only those shot in the head go to heaven. Their thoughts crawl out that hole looking like smoke rings. Like halos. And they diguise the dead into angels.
Today I’ve learned the most important lesson of all. The beauty of silence lies in the fact that it’s close to nothingness. It represents all the ideas and no idea in particular. It’s a complete feeling and at the same time, sentimental numbness.
MOTTO: I love the love you bring
It takes more than ten years of our petty infant life to realize that we were born alone. From this moment on, the search is vivid. We dodge dicks and pussies, we dodge hookers and freebies, we dodge the dreams and desires of others, we dodge the snow and the rain, the storm of emotions for that one thing that makes us human. Our desire to be left alone with that one person that makes a difference in our loneliness. The person in whose soul “I love you”s never dig up the void, but rather make it of a creamy consistent flavour, so that you can eat the void with a soup spoon. That someone that ripples our sinapses and makes silence confortable.
I miss my mirror image.
Each time i shout at the mirror only echoes fight back.
Loud and clear, they scatter my memories on marble.
Memories of glass, memories of shattered stone.
The infinite loop of my dreams gets lost in the embrace of the mirrored self.
I have forgotten you.