The attic is cold these days my friends, drafts at windows look sharp needles every time that you pass, pierces my flesh like the old archers fired from infallible. I'm not sure what happens to the human mind that every time we approach the Christmas for Christians, the second most important day of the year after Easter, if we were all Christians should be awake, alert, excited to hear everything, picks up, we absorb. instead we should be careful and stoned, fuck. I look around me as someone who has just awakened from a colossal hangover, with the sick feeling in the throat and brain try to focus, try to understand where I am, who I am, and that fucking day is today. The streets are filled with colored lights everywhere Musichini Christmas and gift items, except at the gas station, do not understand. People get beat to get gas first, thirsty for oil as in the worst withdrawal symptoms from heroin, dozens flock, fighting, punching each other. It 'a scary enough to shake up the terror listing of our society: a horrible omen lashes out on us, no more gasoline for three days, it is chaos, and fear, and confusion. The perfect ingredients for a hypnotizing people, in order for me to do what you want him to do, right asshole?. Then all of a sudden all our fucking good intentions they go to hell: "Christmas is a tough, no money, I have to save, no dinner, no caviar" .. all of a sudden, out of fear of being without, people are massing on the shelves of hypermarkets, suddenly the shelves empty. E'caos, and fear, and confusion and the economy again, blaming the two poor unsuspecting truck drivers, who are planning to bring down the powerful. A supposed great at least as their truck is coming in their ass and not even notice it even if they take the blame. Vomiting. God How much different is the pace of the quiet life, while we are beaten at the distributor, while we spend our thirteenth fear, Julius died, quietly, calmly, without even a whimper. While I was vomiting, his heart goes out after years of suffering for a fucking Alzheimer's disease, their loved ones at his side, his family. Pain to set the rules, rhythms, sobs, slow, slow, slow. A child born in a manger, the pain to set the rules, contractions, stress, the screams of a mother exhausted, then the liberating cry of a new creature, the pain, the joy that time, the tempo, the tempo, il, Giulio time ... Have a good trip, do not be afraid, do we have enough here. I will always cherish your place in the attic, my friend. A Storyteller
soon.
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