Nurses And Sister Belt Buckle

Gemmadisole Silvano Baracco

Another precious gift of Silvano, for those who follow this blog. I also express your opinions. For me it is wonderful, but I'm biased.

GEMMADISOLE
Silvano Di
Baracco
(Walch)

GEMMADISOLE

I always liked staying up late, wait for the morning without too much concern, saziarmi eyes of images of darkness and stars, enjoy the different feelings from those days, other situations other colors. So I love to travel for the whole night, and fill it with gestures and words.
the night the day you meet people who do not exist or were very different, and will not necessarily make them better in the spotlight of the sun (then, you know, the assholes are everywhere, even in paradise). I do not speak of the drunks who entrust their speeches to the wind and the will of their precarious balance, and even those who only fun, because they prefer to close in a few local ones that say run, the misfits, with no place to fate or by choice, those who live at night, and maybe even steal some time: a lot of these people received from life just kicks in the face, and never love, not that of the family, much less affection and warmth of a person who shares the day. They are people assigned to the opinions of others, normal, to their condemnation, because they do not know what it means to live without ever being loved. But among these people at night you can even find out what the friendship if you know, if you love them as they are, you become friends, friends are more real. For example there's a guy they call "Shanghai", which strikes with the eyes and the twisted mouth if someone greets him, use the knife as the shift lever and a passerby asked him if the time, is able to take him by the neck thirty thousand lire and ask for the information, finally dismissing him with a shove, or if it is particularly annoying with a kick in the ass. But if I say that the cigarettes I smoke are not around, if not in some tobacco shop in Bologna, he put in there what he was doing and went to Bologna to buy cigarettes. I remember when I had stolen a moped from a friend, it was clear that the technique had not been a fool to pass, but one of the tour, and then said in Shanghai that that my friend had the money to buy another, and he needed to turn in search of work and to visit the country and that the girl was just not the right person to play him a shot like that, he said, frowning that if they had not already removed would see if he could do something. Two nights later a voice I never heard it said that the phone call from Shanghai:
- Tell your friends that go to the gardens, on the square in front of schools, there is his motor clean and polished, and with the full mixture.
To the good people, ordinary, these speeches are hard to digest, I understand, but I will not convince someone, just tell me.
Sometimes night, the unexpected happens, like when a friend, about two o'clock, is a girl, combines, and you spring the street there to Alexandria, with many apologies for its part, lay with your blessing, but in the meantime the bars close no one gives you a lift at that time, you only have money in your pocket for a quick phone call home, "not to return tonight, I sleep here by a friend."
was an August night, and it is even worse, because you are covered in winter, equipped, but in that season after a day of sultry evening may follow a mosquito and overwhelming that falls suddenly in a storm: I had only a light shirt and trousers, and already the sky was filled with distant lightning, and the rising breeze.
began to spin, waiting for some inspiration, a bar open, the memory of a girl to go to find: Eh, what all married. Had I been anywhere else that night, something was, in Alexandria only behind closed doors, of course, but as a Ovada ... Ovada I went there on foot? Aimlessly, walking toward the stadium, maybe I found someone;
Shanghai does not yet know at that time, the other who knows where they were. I began to think of the station, maybe we would arrive before they unleashed the flood, despite my proverbial slow pace, around a desert, not a dog around, only self hasty I did air, some flashing, some horn sounded, but not stop talking about it.
The first appearance of a human figure, in discreet distance, was that of a girl leaning against a wall, face lit only by intermittent flashes of a cigarette apparently a prostitute, never seen before. I would be passed before continuing. I went into a phone booth, I brushed the thought of spending the night, a situation immediately discarded, left me just a coin in which I asked the last hope in a night shelter acceptable: I was reminded of Sandy, not really a friend, but a good friend, not seen him for a bit 'of time, but if I remembered the character I would certainly hosted willingly, or you might have to go somewhere for the rest of the night. I remembered him as a kind friendly, easy to laugh and drink, and also to fight, but for fun, and its telephone number was similar to that of the school I attended, I remembered again, there was a number change in the end, or was one or the other was at best if I called the school at that time no one would answer, I would have recovered the coin and made the other number, but I center on the first try, and I said his sister Sandra.
- Hello Gina, Sandy is at home?
- Who is this?
- Oh yes, sorry, I Caesar, were asleep?
- No, I have just returned, Sandro there is at sea. Sandro
the sea? In August? Out of the question was not one to go to the beach.
- But you're Caesar who?
- From Valencia, we saw each other once or twice, friends, home of Loren, I think.
- I see, the poet. How are you?
- How do you want that is? Not covered ...
- I'm sorry, Sandro is on.
- how long? What does the lawyer?
- Go to hell!
- Strange lawyer.
- Nothing to do the lawyer, I said to you. Good night.
laughed, but in the meantime I picked up the phone at him, also the last chance was blurred. I did not have even a token, not a document, almost almost hoping to pass a patrol cops, in one way or another I would solve the problem of where to spend the night, more and more cold and threatening. I discarded the idea of \u200b\u200bgoing directly from Gina, could not be alone, he could send me to hell a second time, and after all night once and for all. Sandro was a good fellow, quite naive as to get drawn into some shit, like stealing cars for the account of some old crap Asti, so we ended up in jail Sandro, that one was a decent person. I resumed the walk, I passed the prostitute must have been thirty-five, maybe more, was not even ugly, wearing a complement not very eye-catching, blond bob, she had a pleasant face and two bright eyes. I was about to greet her, but she was before them.
- Hello blond.
- Hello blond, I tell you now that I have not a penny in his pocket.
- Cigarettes do you have?
- even those few, not even half a pack.
- Lasciamene two or three.
I had eight, we did a half, they put three in an empty package that he kept in a purse and lit it right away, I pointed out that I had just turned off.
- So what? Are you my doctor?
- No, but so did you finish in half an hour again.
- Amen, somebody will more. Now maybe you can also raise the fuck out, because tonight you do not already combines a cock, a dog does not stop.
- Of course, in this weather! Well, good evening, blonde.
- But seriously you have no money?
- If you find me on a dime is yours, with nothing in return perquisiscimi well.
spread my arms And so saying, she searched really carefully, before a bit 'nervous, then slowly letting go to a cautious smile.
- You do not have anything, not even a knife around here at this time you could serve.
And I had to defend myself, what ever I could steal? I told her, in a few words and very Ironically, the story of that evening, they had come from there and my concerns about the rest of the night, and finally I saw her smile clear. It was one of those girls who are much more beautiful when they smile, but do not know, and they are often sullen. I've known girls who are more beautiful when it has been set, and they almost always laugh too: how did this evil world! I told her too, and when I advised her to smile often because she was beautiful, she smiled more: once again I was able to get someone to come in a good mood and so I could say I did my little good deed for the day. Waved and I was about to cross the street, resigned to reach the station, among other things, the weather deteriorated, began to drip, I was already a few steps away when she called me.
- Hey, look ... you! Do not you tell me your name.
- Caesar, and you?
- It's not a nice name, Caesar. You'd be better off ... Rodolfo!
was dissolved in a beautiful silvery laugh, not at all vulgar.
- I have not said how you call it.
- My name is Patrick, Patty, if you prefer.
- I like Patrick. Hello, maybe we'll see.
- Wait ... I wanted to tell you that if you do not know where to go, here in a while 'all hell broke loose, I do fear the thunder ... well, if you want you can come to my house, I am the Christ, so you do not get wet and make me company. I speak with anyone.
- and your man?
- Who has it?
- Nor ...?
- Ah, what? Cares about my private life, just give her his, is also married.
had the car around the corner, gave me the keys and told me to wait another hour or two, just to earn the evening, but after ten minutes, now under the shower, I reached by car.
- Let's go home, so tonight does not fight nail. You drive?
- Do not have a license. I had, but I have not renewed.
turned on the radio at a frightening volume, so no I understood a word of what he said during the trip, I tried to explain with gestures, she smiled and went on to say, who knows what. Finally we arrived at his house, a fine dwelling in a new building, furnished with taste. He said he was not working at home, went to the bathroom while I stayed in the entrance hall, who was also at the same time and living room, studying a series of small posters that filled one wall, depicting tropical landscapes. When he emerged from the bathroom was wrapped in a pink bathrobe, very elegant in its simplicity, I asked if it was the place of posters, she said no, but with a touch of melancholy in his eyes told him that one day she would like to go and live , forever, in one of those islands. He ate something, I was not hungry, but willingly accepted a cup of coffee. He also had a good supply of cigarettes at home.
- Rodolfo So should I call? If you want to call it so, even if such name is not that I like very much.
- I knew a guy many years ago, named Rudolf, you looked a bit ', but not so, but he had kind eyes, like yours.
- You were in love with him?
- No, I do not think I do not remember. Maybe I was never really in love, no one.
- The protagonist of the Boheme is called Rodolfo, fits me:
"Who am, I am a poet, what do I do? I write. How do I live? Vivo ".
Canticchiai this air, making her laugh heartily.
- I know, is the 'gelida manina!
- Just that, Puccini for me the most, his music sometimes moves me to tears.
- My father often listened to classical music, but I liked it, not always, and not all the works, are years that I do not hear anymore. Like Cindy Lauper?
- I do not remember hearing it, is an opera?
- But nooo! It is an American singer, I prefer that you Mary, I can hear you now.
He put on a disk, fortunately not too much volume, he began to sing above, was very in tune, and move to the rhythm of music with remarkable grace. The musical style of singing that I did not like much, but it was bearable, then I liked to see Patrick sing and dance, said that for some 'days would always listen to that record, which spared the recently listened to a lot of the symphonies of Bruckner.
- Do you want to lie down a little? I'm not used to sleep at this time, I sleep in the afternoon.
- No thanks, I did not sleep at all, if I'm awake at this hour I do not sleep anymore. Continue to sing and dance, was very nice.
- you tell me that you like a little '?
- I like you very much, Patricia, really.
- A house is not working that is, I do not pay. If you want ...
- Not yet a stove?
smiled, a bit 'sad.
- Sometimes yes, but one thing to work as a punch: do not do this for fun, much less to love or even sympathy. When not working is another thing. You who do you do?
- occasionally, almost nothing. I write, but not public, I write poetry, but can not remember.
- What a shame, you could dirmene one, I like poetry, but I do not remember ... yes, I remember, you want to hear?
- Come on!
- So ...
"dear moon, beautiful moon hanging
nests on rooftops and
ove dorme la rondinella
perché mi guardi e sorridi?
Perché mi guardi e mi baci?
...aspetta, non me la ricordo più... ah sì, ora risponde la luna:
Ti guardo perché mi piaci
coi tuoi semplici occhi nuovi
sorrido perché mi commuovi
coi tuoi teneri occhi fidi
coi tuoi limpidi occhi onesti:
ti bacio perché ti resti
un ricordo soave
quando il tempo verrà
che sarai uomo grave
e avrai persa la chiave
della Felicità.”
- Bella, una poesia tenera, con una punta di malinconia. L’hai scritta tu?
- No, è di un poeta che si chiamava.... aspetta, mi pare Novaro.
- Mmh, yes Angiolo Silvio Novaro, a little-known poet, wrote mainly, or solely, poems for children.
- For the read me this poem when I was little my mother. How old are you?
- Twenty-nine.
- I thought more, I'm thirty-four.
- I thought not.
was lying, she was beautiful, but a little worn out and demonstrated a few years more, especially seeing it in broad daylight, yet the small scars of time, the fine lines between the eyes and temples, more visible when he laughed at the corners of the mouth and on the chin, in a way that I can not explain better and better, I would say that its dignified beauty, especially as his slender body and proportionate, his manner and his voice was full of youth.
- Caesar, but you do not ask me anything? Will not you even know why I make this life?
- If you do not want to tell me I ask you, if you want to talk I'm listening pleasure, however, as I'm concerned everyone does what he wants, or can, I never judge. None.
- I ran away from home at eighteen, I started with a slacker because I had married, but shortly afterwards it disappeared and was made to review only ask for money, then I found another one worse than him and are arrived here, where I am today. Also ended with him for some time. I do not have relationships with their parents, they've cut. He came here once my brother read me the life, also gave me two slaps, since then I have not seen or heard any of them, just as well, going to the dogs!
- Maybe, in their own way, I love you ...
- If they take their own good! Now I'm alone, I'm good! Do not put me with anyone, not even a rich one. Every so often I find some poor fool who wants to marry me, I tell the customers, who want to change my life and promises heaven and earth. I send them to hell, everybody! Every so often there is someone who gives me his advice, for my own good: priests, good people, everyone seems interested in me, my life, you have nothing better to do? You at least not I say nothing.
- Life is yours. I'm not saying there is nothing better to do, but if you like it ....
- not that I like .... so. I have not found better, then maybe, who knows, some day I fell in love with someone, I fall in love for real, not to fix, not for money or for a family or make me like shit, I do not say that to stop making life It depends. Of course the years go by more and more it's hard, I'll have to force quit one time or another, but who cares! The future will not give a damn, I'm here now and stop. And you, you think about the future?
- I do not know what I'll do a quarter of an hour, I figured if I the future. Sometimes I wish that there was not at all: I really do not find good reasons to continue living, but also to kill you need a good reason.
- For example?
- for example because of a great love that you can not create, a great love, indescribable, to be dismissed, even ridiculed here is a good reason to shoot himself. Unfortunately so far the stories I have always had carried out, sometimes without even looking for them too, and have always concluded, with pain, but not enough.
- You're not in love?
- by contrast, are almost always, but never the love I mean. Also in this period I have a girlfriend, I do not know how to describe it, a friend, a lover. One sees occasionally, sometimes often, for a few days, you go around, have fun a bit ', sometimes we cry together, some tenderness, a little' about sex, maybe for two months we do not even call and someday, I think soon, all will end, perhaps with a little fight, recriminations, scenes, trains, perhaps without any of this, quietly.
- but would like to find true love?
- I've found so far, you probably have never even tried, but I am sure that one day I'll find him suddenly, without understanding the reason: it will be an overwhelming love, but certainly you misunderstand my feelings will remain cold and indifferent to my love, not like me at all, and then tells me to not bother me. And finally I find a good reason to kill me.
- For a woman like that?
- This is love, that's life, but then why am I telling you my affairs and my ideas? Do you care?
- Yes, to know a bit, 'I told you that I never talk to anyone, sometimes I do not really want, but sometimes it's hard. Look, it remained one of your cigarette, the smoke there to turn, or be bothered?
- What do you mean? I also chew gum already chewed how do you feel disgust for another human being? I'm not capable.
He looked at me with wide eyes, the face you could read what he was thinking: "Look at that fellow, I went to meet tonight!" Then we talked
really all thoughts of running away, hopes that die, the that dreams are made, and someone was the same. At one point she had nothing more to tell, and then it was my turn to speak to me, the wandering youth, anarchism political and existential, a son away and virtually unknown, the piano bar, rock n 'roll , a motorcycle accident, the need to write the same things as always. It happened a little ' to laugh and a bit 'to be moved, and then, as always, let me drag the whirlwind of words, until at a certain point I realized that more than half an hour talking only me. I stopped. The look was tired of Patrizia, but this, he stretched his back, spreading his arms, squinted and smiled.
- What do you know, Caesar.
- because of my curiosity, but the fact is that I remember them all. But if one stops to think about it, everyone, you realize you know so much more than images, just do not care. You too, you should try.
- I do not know anything.
- For example, do not forget to learn a poem, and instead you know, you have me that before! I bet you never thought you were there.
- It's true!
- Who knows how many other things I do not think you know but ... listen: there's a game that I always did as a boy, pulling a letter of the alphabet at random and then, in turn, must be established early to say one thing: flowers, objects, cities, actors, writers, singers, animals, anything that begins with that letter.
- I like it.
- All right, you will see how many things in mind, let's start ... from what?
- From the names of singers ... no, the city, but only Italian cities.
- Start you: the name of an Italian city that starts with the letter ...
I pointed the finger on the page of a magazine was removed and the letter "p" she said immediately Pavia, Piacenza quickly followed, Potenza, Padova, Parma, Pescara, some other city with a longer pause, until you after a certain silence, and I threatened to count to five and if she had not found another city in that while assigning them one point ahead, slammed his hand on his forehead and laughing almost cried
- What are silly: Prasco !
- Prasco? What's that?
- Like what?!? It's my country!
- And where is he?
- Near Acqui, you have not never really heard?
- see I do not know many things as you say then? Among other things, you win the first game, with the P I can not think of anything more right.
picked up a piece of notebook paper, drew a line between, on the one hand wrote "Patrick" and other "Caesar", and then scored a point on his side, saying that those who arrived first would win ten points. After a few rounds into the city we passed the flowers, she took out the letter "g" and I began with "Lily," she said, "Grisantemo".
- Oh no, we say Chrysanthemum, with the "c"!
- Really? So ... gi ... gi ... Sunflower!
- Ah, I wanted to tell me! So ... gi ... ge ... Geranium.
- Geranium? And I say ... I say ..... Gemmadisole!
- What flower is this? I've never heard.
- is the most beautiful flower that exist, the rarest, most fragrant, the most delicate ...
- But how? What color is he?
- The Gemmadisole is .... I do not know, I made up myself now, no seriously. You have won this match.
- No instead, it's so nice name! Maybe there really: yes, I have decided that the Gemmadisole really exist.
- What color is he?
- Red, no, yellow .... orange, here! And it is the flower most good that exists, like you said, and you'll see that some day I'll bring one, maybe for your birthday. But now we change the game: you think of something, anything, I have six questions to which you have available to respond with sincerity after the sixth question, I'll have to guess what you thought.
- What's playing? I'm not saying money or material things, but a prize for the winner, or a penance for losing, we want to make the game more interesting.
- Yes, you're right, do this: if I guess what did you think I'll give you a kiss.
- if I do not guess?
- guess Unless you give me a kiss.
not guessed, he had thought of the word "Happiness" and I was completely wrong way, asking if he was a human being, an animal or mineral, if it was edible, liquid or gas, she laughed in taste, as you may never had happened to her in life, I threw myself at the end there:
- Have you thought about a Gemmadisole? Kissing
laughing will not be exciting, but it's beautiful. There was a flash, the power went out, and in the darkness the sudden explosion of thunder made her scream with fright and surprise. Embraced the strong, trembling, now he was crying, but it was not only fear, and then pressed her harder, and in silence, let me find out, I cried with her. When the light returned, there was still time to play, remember, joking, I found that are ticklish, and it was another chance to see her laugh to tears. We were sitting in front, she carefully folded the paper he had used to keep score as if it were something to be preserved, then his eyes and his calm smile, I appeared tired, rested his head on the table and closed his eyes.
- Are you sleepy?
- A little bit, I happen at this time. I have another coffee?
- Let it be, is very late, close on seven. You'd better go.
- Where do you go?
- I'm going home, waiting for me. I'm going to hitchhike to the bridge, I find people who work at this time in Valencia many know them, give me a ride for sure.
- I'll take you home ...
- No, rested, then you must, go back, but those are still there. Maybe another time.
- I enjoyed it for so long.
- Some evenings we meet again, I'll take my poems, but they are not so happy, maybe we play something else, go to dinner somewhere, in short, have fun!
- I have always been there in the evening, where you found me.
- Then I know where you live.
- Yeah, I know.
- Now it's time to go, you rest, I beg you, remember to smile as you can, I told you that when you smile you are very beautiful, So always smile, do not get caught with sadness, for any reason, e. .. Patrick hello, hello, blond.
- Hello blond.
was the first sentence that I had turned and was identical to the last, because from that moment I saw her more. I reviewed many times by the road where I met her, sometimes by chance alone, never alone, always in the car with some friends, but it was never there: maybe it was the wrong one hour, maybe it was out with some customers. One evening, by chance, I found myself in his house, I paused, his name was not there and the last name I never knew, I played two or three bells at random hoping to find it, or possibly to seek information from some close, but no one answered, and finally gave up. Then he went a bit 'of time, maybe a year, even two, was almost out from my memory.
One evening in a bar, talking by chance with a guy who knows all the stories about the environment, I knew that was then placed with a guy I barely knew, I had spoken two or three times in circumstances that not even remember. So he found love.
He was two years younger than her, a guy as good as a piece of bread and sad as a concert by Pietro Locatelli, ten years was addicted to drugs. Had moved to a village in Liguria, or perhaps nell'Ovadese Scrivia Valley, he had tried to escape from hell of the hole, but we were not successful, and then she, too, to love him, because he was not alone in his suffering, had entered her in the same hell.
And finally she was dead, perhaps by accident, overdose, murder, perhaps because exhausted by that life, perhaps by choice, perhaps consumed by some disease that does not forgive, I never knew, I do not even want to know. I just wish it on his grave, wherever it is, every day someone posasse a Gemmadisole.
No thunder, as violent, she will be more afraid. Perhaps, somewhere that is beyond our understanding and even the imagination, will find the island where he wanted to live, no matter if and the Caribbean, and even on this planet, so beautiful, so sad.
course will be somewhere in this or other universes, dominated the game and love, and there just smiling.
"Unless you become like children
not enter the kingdom of heaven"

(end)

Deluge Sprinkler System

Republic founded on work?

Republic founded on work?
Edgardo Rossi

The first part of the first article of the Italian Constitution states that Italy is a democratic republic, founded on work. This point of our Constitution has always been very respected in Italy, a country where the black economy, tax evasion, the precariousness have always made by employers. We should not be amazed at what's going on, yet still so much bitterness. In Sicily
three temporary schools are doing a hunger strike, after thirty years of service no longer needed, the cuts have reduced the financial staff redundancies, and then must stay at home. Should not be surprising that a person carries on an activity for thirty years without "entering the role," it is not normal that a person should try for so long its attitudes. Or rather, it is not normal anywhere else in the world, Italy is the rule. Thousands in public administration to be precarious, and without the possibility no stabilization. Depend on the financial numbers, if there is money you work, if no, no. Too young to retire, without being entitled to any redundancy payments are projected into the world of unemployment, forced to invent new activities, but without any help. In Italy if you passed the "door" does not take you more than anyone, maybe you can find the black.
But here in Italy it is not surprising even to workers made redundant because they are too industrial action, reinstated by the employment tribunal, but not accepted by the employer enough to prevent them from entering the factory. The employer has appealed the ruling of the court and then, in the meantime, the workers did not are welcome.
not be surprised that the workers should remain suspended on a platform to defend their jobs by the low financial speculation (and this story ended well). That other workers have to live in abandoned prison dell, because their factory is no longer considered productive, despite being able to run fine. In the Island of the unemployed have occurred in many, but the problem remains.
The list could go on like situations, passing by the teachers on the roofs of the administrator, by Sardinian shepherds that block the airports, from dairy farmers who have paid the fine and you feel cheated because others do not just have not paid but are backed by the government in their intention not to pay anything (but that's another story).
The problem is (are told) who lack jobs, and will remain so for a while ', even if the crisis is over.
The fact that banks, whose profits are increasing, do not take more, even people sent in early retirement and aim to reduce staff, which takes place in the crisis is ending? Companies that close to reopen in other countries where labor costs are lower, has something to do? The fact that the average wages of Italians are among the lowest in the European Union, what is its role in all this? We must say that many leaders in our country, raking in well, and that in return the Italian political class is the best paid of all Europe.
the end of this reflection, this overview of this country where the work should have a primary role, I see no program to overcome this limitation. Everything is left to chance, or rather the decisions are made by those who hold economic power, it is widening more and more the gap between the rich (who tend to increase their assets) and poor (growing). Dismantled the welfare state, too expensive (say), it was not completed implementation of genuine liberalization for which the great powers have increased their areas of influence.
I will be a "nostalgic" but I think that in times of crisis interventions by the governments there should be and must protect especially the economically weaker sections, but not sterile and occasional financial assistance but with the application of protection rules which aim at an equitable distribution of profits. It is not my idea, talked about a certain Keynes more than eighty years ago. But it seems that men have a short memory. And here is part of the ancestral cultural poverty of our country, but that's another story, even more complex and detailed than that which I have just completed and reference to other interventions.

Homemade Ham And Beans Calorie

Generation thousand euro, which is off to the worst.

Generation thousand euro, which is off to the worst.
Edgardo Rossi
There is a country where almost all the best minds are doomed to temporary employment, are forced to live inventing activities or accepting fixed-term contracts, throwing their time in the frenzied search for a job that allows them to be realized.
A country where researchers (if allowed to become) are often paid with ridiculous figures and without any guarantee that the activities undertaken to continue over time. A country where culture is considered a weight loss worse.
A country where important tasks are passed from father to son (from uncle to nephew, from parent to relative, etc..), the leadership roles are won with the "spintarelle" where the jurisdiction is considered a virtue, so that senior executives are rewarded for having scuppered the company of which they were directors.
Of course there are exceptions (such as that might otherwise survive the country of which we speak), every so often someone with skills and ability to get a job that pertains to him, but it is a variant confirmed, however, should not be too many, would change the rules of the game.
On the other hand in this "happy" country was invented specifically for a space help maintain constant incompetence (if not the increase of the same). This space is the policy (or rather the use made of the policy), behind the appearance there is a democratic system of rules that guarantees the choice of the political class more acceptable to various factions who hold economic power, it is divided into two major "strands", the direct and the conditional.
Through the direct system the candidates are chosen by the parties, which puts them in order, according to a rating of personalistic and interest. In this line an ideal candidate, and certainly the future deputy, should either be jointly interested in the project or totally unaware of it, or both things together, however, must ensure full acceptance of orders party. Woe to disrespect the rules. This principle is successfully applied in national elections.
The conditional is less secure, can also lead to unpleasant incidents, like the election of people do not like, but the risks are low. Upstream there is a capillary of flattening of the minds, we tend to make people think to slogan, to create art of the fake fears, which led the mass to be identified in alleged charismatic leaders to whom we must believe with blind faith and absolute .
If the game can (and often succeeds) everything is almost guaranteed, for which the candidate will be advised promptly "chosen" by the electorate, ensuring continuity of the system and avoiding dangerous intrusions. It is through this method than in other electoral areas were voted and elected people of such baseness and intellectual property to border a scandal. I know that many people think of a famous son (for other culturally deprived as the father), but really think about, is one of many, who weighed in and look around is "government" with an open mind and maybe we will wake up from this "Sleep of Reason" that seems to cloud the minds of many.
At this point you understand that the country of which I spoke is Italy, and the generation doomed to insecurity and the current, ongoing process that has been active for many years, the prospects for a revival are very limited and are related to the emergence of a genuine moral conscience, able to rewrite the rules now applying the principles of our Constitution, and in particular the first five articles. For those who remember them would be worthwhile to review them and make them part of their civic behavior.

Article 1
Italy is a democratic republic, founded on work.
The sovereignty belongs to the people and is exercised in the manner and within the limits of the Constitution.

Article 2
The Republic recognizes and guarantees the inviolable rights of man, as an individual and in social groups where he expresses his personality, and requires the fulfillment mandatory duties of political solidarity, economic and social development.


Article 3 All citizens have equal social dignity and are equal before the law, without distinction of sex, race, language, religion, political opinion, personal and social conditions.
is the duty of the Republic to remove obstacles to economic and social nature which constrain the freedom and equality of citizens, prevent the full development of the human person and the effective participation of all workers in the political, economic and social development of the country. Article 4


The Republic recognizes the right of all citizens to work and promotes conditions to fulfill this right effective.
Every citizen has a duty to perform according to their ability and individual choice, activity or function that contributes to the material or spiritual progress of society.


Article 5 The Republic, one and indivisible, recognizes and promotes local autonomies, and implements services that depend on the State the fullest measure of administrative decentralization accords the principles and methods of its legislation to the requirements of autonomy and decentralization .

Machbach Coupe Pricing

Man of glass - the story of Silvano Baracco

A small gift, a fairy-tale charm of the great Silvano. Good reading to those who frequent this blog.
L 'UOMODEIVE TRI
Silvano Baracco (Walk)
Man of the glass had a name. No one knew, but was called Zeno, because his father had read a book once as a young man he had not understood much, and too little if it was soon forgotten, but he had impressed the name of the protagonist, and the title of the book, so he decided that, if its first and only child also had to be a man of conscience, as indeed would have liked, already in its name had to be represented a wish, and with an introduction to that effect . Zeno, the man of glass, was still a boy when he began working at Palazzone in the center shopping area, as a cleaner of its large windows. In Palazzone there were only offices, many offices, full of busy men and women, it is not clear in which tasks and for what purpose, but the common opinion was that in that building, just the Palazzone, forty-eight floors high and long a full two hundred yards away, the Way of Palazzone, you did things very important, even decisive for the City, and perhaps also for the nation, so much so that every four or five years, was visiting the President in person : always arrived around eleven in the morning, with a row of dark cars, surrounded by about seventy people extremely noisy, and the whole procession was sucked into the Palazzone in the space of ten frantic minutes. The people on that occasion, clapped and smiled behind the barriers, the men raised children and adults say, "Look, that's the President." Over time, these children grew up, became adults, and in turn raised new children saying, "Look, that's the President," and he, the President was no longer the same as before. Then even the new children become adults, and so on. Equally, over time, there remained only the scene, the barriers and Palazzone. And the man of the glass. Zeno was born there, in Via del Palazzone but when he was born was still called the Street of flower meadows, and there were only the foundations Palazzone. At the age of one year, when he began to write an outline and a meaning to things around him, the Palazzone was already in one piece, complete with its large windows that light turned into apparent mirrors, and all around the streets, sidewalks, asphalt. His world was there, in front of his house Palazzone, the school side. At fourteen, after the compulsory education of all children and forgotten, had entered for the first, and only, time just inside the Palazzone, accompanied by his father on the occasion that this proves very authoritarian, but rather, in front of the kind in suit, shirt, tie and glasses sitting behind a desk, stood with his head bowed and a permanent smile on his face, holding his hat in one hand and kept the other resting the head of the child, sometimes sketching a kind of caress. On the same day Zeno had climbed on the scaffold wheel, hung a board with two lateral ropes, pulley system, which was pulling up to the forty-eighth floor and go down to the first, as desired. He had become so, the boy of the glasses, armed with a bucket, mop and rags, who worked until evening and then returned home. This is for a certain period, perhaps few years. Then, ritrovatosi alone in the world, has become the man of glass, began to no longer be covered at night. On the top floor there was the outside tap to fill the bucket and the cab of the change of towels, at night where someone came to pick up dirty ones and replace them with clean rags that the man was of glass every morning, when he began work. Besides, there was the self-service cafeteria, where it was enough to push another button to get the food supply. So Zeno began to live on the scaffold wheel: you worked from dawn to dusk, with skill and precision, we ate, we slept. I do not back down, for all the years to come, ma non si può dire che fosse per una scelta precisa: capitò così, senza nemmeno che se ne rendesse conto, come una cosa normale, insieme a tutte le altre cose circostanti, il cielo, la nebbia, il fumo, la pioggia, la notte, il giorno, il Palazzone e, laggiù in fondo, la strada. Cioè a dire: il mondo.
L’uomo dei vetri prestava il suo servizio con molta coscienza, ogni giorno dell’anno, senza sosta per ferie o feste di cui neppure ricordava l’esistenza. Nemmeno un millimetro di vetro restava immune da una passata del suo strofinaccio, neppure un granello di polvere veniva trascurato dal suo spazzolone. Sul suo ponteggio lungo come tutto il palazzo, l’uomo dei vetri started from the top floor, where he had stopped to sleep, and fell to the first, soaping and washing the windows, the ground floor did not compete, because it was all concrete, and the front door was an iron gate. On the first floor stopped for lunch, not even for a moment to support the view below, the pavement of the road, which at that time were always empty. A short nap and then off, began to rise, a plan at a time, until the last, dusting the windows. The road was filled again, slowly, but nobody ever noticed the man hanging on the scaffold wheel. Even people who worked inside the Palazzone did not notice not him, and perhaps unaware of its existence.
Nor, incidentally, the man of glass cared about them, knew they were there, beyond those windows, and they were doing important things, because those who worked in Palazzone was only important things, but did not know which were, not interested at all, and had never seen his face or heard his voice, just one of those people. They hear the roar indistinct, scattered sounds of voices without words, and teletype printers, footsteps, ticking of buttons, bells, and nothing else. After all, the man of glass is not even made accountable for his loneliness, because this was also a plain fact, granted as everything else. But sometimes, the loneliness taken to extremes, results in fact quite inexplicable, perhaps miraculous. Thus, a summer day, finished the work that was not clear enough to not get to sleep now, man of glass began to walk up and down its two hundred meters of scaffolding steering wheel, and returning to the starting point saw apparent human figure, a young man sitting on the scaffolding, his legs dangling in the air and a pair of wings behind his back, as if they were closed. It surprised a lot of that vision, and wanted to ask him some questions now that he was doing there, As was to come, but did not speak for so many years that his voice was slow to emerge. The young man looked surprised, as if surprised that the man of glass coming towards him, staring in his direction, so that, at some point, he turned, as if looking for what might have attracted the attention of Zeno just behind him, over him. The man of glass, meanwhile, was laboriously managed to clear his throat, with a little 'operation and swallowing his saliva, and when he was in front of the young, not even greet him, because he was not accustomed to the habits of life in society, gave him the first question that managed to articulate:
- Who are you? The young man seemed startled
.
- I??
- Yes, you. There is no one else.
- Ma .. I see?
- And why should not I see you?
- Ma .. because ... because ... I'm invisible.
Man of the glass was struck by this statement, from his point of view, of course, completely inexplicable and therefore absurd. But it was not the kind of man that does not permit the next opportunity to explain himself, although to be honest, until then, had no recollection of ever having had the opportunity to relate to any neighbor of any species.
- But then, if you're invisible as you say, why do you see?
- It 's just what I can not explain, because at this point there is no doubt that you're seeing me, to listen, because it responds to tone and logical consequence to the words that you turn.
- Although this should not be possible?
- Exactly. I do not understand ...
- There will be a fault somewhere?
- A failure?
- Yes, your failure mechanism of invisibility and inascoltabilità.
The young man replied, and was clearly puzzled, and the fact of it, just visibly increased its de facto state of perplexity, as one can easily understand. Suddenly, as if he had a communication from the outside, as close to the inside, which had provided a detailed and plausible explanation, the young man lit his face.
- Ah, so! Then everything is clear.
- What?
- That is, you can see me and you can hear me because of you live in solitude, long time. Only when a man is extremely and permanently only with himself, as is the case, and anyway, even in cases like this quite exceptionally, to the man that can happen to materialize in front, so to speak, in flesh and bones, and voice, his guardian angel.
This time it was the man of glass to be perplexed.
- Why did you say "so to speak in the flesh"?
- Why does not actually have flesh or bones: mine is only a materialisation visual and sound.
- That'd be just an image?
- In a way, yes, but a concrete image, autonomous, independent. In a nutshell: I am not a figment of your imagination. Exist. Although I can not touch you, neither you touch me, because they are ethereal and intangible.
- How can there be something intangible? Or is there something, or is not there.
- The music is intangible, yet when you're not imagining the feeling, but there seriously. Oh yes, you've never heard music. Play.
and air, mysteriously, as if someone had turned on a radio, materialized the notes of a concerto for harp and organ. Man of the windows had never heard anything like it.
- It 's beautiful this thing! But basically it is a sound, such as those that feel beyond the glass. Even if you can not touch, it's real, caused by something material, a sizzle of strings, tapping on a keyboard.
Angel slapped his forehead, or so thought.
- It 's true. It is an example of a success.
The music stopped abruptly. It was useless to talk about feelings and sensations, because the man had no experience of the windows, and it would be too lengthy and cumbersome to try to explain it in words. In the end, Angelo decided not to investigate further discussion.
- The only possible explanation is this: I exist, it is not you that you're dreaming, are not the result of a thought, but pure reality, as ethereal and intangible. And every thing has its own specific nature, and mine is this.
The man seemed satisfied with the glass of the latter explanation, but had not exhausted his curiosity.
- But tell me, if you Guardian Angels are intangible, can not be touched, but even touching.
- Yes, indeed.
- But then, if I now slipped and fallen from scaffolding, you do not you grab me in any way.
- Exactly.
- So what is your case?
The Angel stood dumbfounded for a moment. He recovered immediately.
- But it is obvious that we can not physically intervene, otherwise there would be no incidents of any kind, except to admit that every once in a Guardian Angel can also be distracting, which is definitely not.
- So you are invisible, unheard, intangible. Do not be offended, but you serve?
Angel could also have started to shoot, but being an Angel, went peacefully to his speech.
- We assist people with our presence, our advice whispered into the heart, it being understood that the men remain free not to listen. And sometimes we bring God to the demands and needs that arise from the hearts of men. Nothing more than that.
Man of the glasses was a real person, and certain things not understood, or at least not entirely. Even the existence of this God had some doubts: He could not see well and could not be touched, it was not clear what was your role and its usefulness, but he would not disrespect or even grieve his guardian angel, who appeared as a person, or something like that, absolutely right, and certainly a good heart. But wanted to say something the same subject.
- I believe in the things I see, including you, because otherwise I would not be here talking to you. All in all I'd rather not ask me too many questions, and be content with what is, for example those glasses, solid and clean as a mirror, because I am that I keep them clean. Everyone is good at something, and I to this. Maybe one day I will understand the usefulness of God may God's essence is contained in this great building, the Palazzone, where you agree and do important things for everyone. Yes, it must be true.
- No, Zeno, do not confuse the essence of God, if anything, can be found on the small stuff ... and you can not measure everything, least of God, with the utility meter. Also useful things, and even the important ones, if you are studying in depth ... sometimes are not really a big deal. For example: you consider very important and useful to your work. Yet, there is one person she knew, not even those who work in Palazzone.
This time it was the man of glass to remain banned. Reacted.
- not true! I, with my cleaning job, allows light to penetrate into those offices, beyond the windows so that people who work there can do so under the best conditions, even if they do not know or do not realize how.
- But you did not notice the curtains impenetrable, always closed, you are behind every window? Do not you ever noticed that all offices are lit by neon bar, always on? In Palazzone do not know what to make of sunlight, which would come from the windows. Have you ever seen someone looking out a window? If instead of windows there was only a concrete wall, as the ground floor, would be the same. Have you noticed that the windows are gray? This is because you do not see the dirt, the dust that you get up one grain at a time, without forgetting any of them. If you did not, themselves a year or ten, doing nothing, no one would notice, however, because the windows would remain always the same, gray, like everything else: the street, the sidewalk, the walls, the sky , which is always gray smoke rising from the city, and because the sea is too far from here, so the sky reflects only the asphalt.
The man thought that the speeches of the glasses of that being vain, very clearly reflected by its very nature: the lost Angel sight of the concrete things, those of every day, worldwide, to follow his thoughts ethereal and impalpable. All the time elapsed since that day, the man of the glasses did not pay more attention to the Angel, who was always there on the scaffold beside him without speaking. Only every now and then screamed "watch out" when he leaned a bit 'too much. But the man of glass shrugged his shoulders: he had some need of his suggestions and his warnings. One day, years before, who had filed too much, and a gust of wind had moved the scaffold wheel, he was stuck to the windows and nail with your fingertips, as if he the suckers, and another time had risen to some plans, without realizing it, do not pull the pulley, remaining attached to the glass with his towel, and continuing his work as if nothing had happened. It was impossible that he could fall, he was used to distract, to think, and thought much over time more and more. Working and thinking, attached to his glasses and could not fall.
Yet another clear summer evening, after work, man of glass he found himself suddenly to fall on deaf ears, the forty-eighth floor, upside down, waving his arms in the air such as swimming . The angel opened his wings, and joined him, came. The man of glass continued to fall in swimming, as if in this way would increase friction and slow its relentless fall. The man of glass fell and swam, impassive, as if something was going on perfectly normal and predictable, like everything else. The Angel and man of the glasses were no longer entered into a discourse, from the day they had met. It was the Angel to break the silence.
- Zeno! What happened? How did you fall?
- I lost my balance.
- Ma .. how is it possible? Just you?
- Just me. I thought a lot in that time, so I do not speak. I wanted to first complete the thought.
- And now you can not complete more ...
- I completed instead. So I'm rushing. I searched for a sense of it all, the Palazzone, to what I was doing, what I was experiencing, the whole of things, and I have not found everything here. So I lost my balance.
- I'm sorry.
- Why? Now I see approaching the road, but this is gray, like everything else. If you reverse the point of view, putting the huge building in the way the horizontal and vertical, would not change anything. Gray.
- I'm sorry.
- You've already said. And I've already said, and why? Me to stay there, clinging to the gray glass, or plunge into the gray street, then it does not change much. I was up there, useless, useless to rest now. Nobody noticed anything when I was there, and even now is the same. I was just up there and are just now. The only thing I regret is that while the road is approaching, and with the way the crash, still can not find a right way, suitable to replace the lost sense, and perhaps it is too late.
- I'm sorry.
- Ma .. what's that stain a different color, there in the middle of the sidewalk?
- A small flower bed, green. All that remained of the old street of Minesweeper.
- And what is that little thing, standing in the middle?
- A flower. A small flower.
When he was little more than a meter from the asphalt, the man saw more clearly that the glass cramped bed, a few square inches of green grass, half buried in the asphalt, and a small flower at the center, even that meager , but alive, with its fragile stem, its small corolla, and its tiny colorful petals. A flower. It was the first time he saw a flower.
- You were right you know, Angel! E 'in the little things that you feel the essence of God
- The way ... The man smiled
of glasses for the first time in his life.