INCIPIT E UN PO' DI PIU' 1
I'm still on the ground with my weight
as if I were afraid of being swept away by a hurricane
Milan, Monday 25 December 2006 - Christmas
"Here is told the secret of the revelation that Jesus began talking to Judas Iscariot ..." So begins the first page of a fragile papyrus manuscript that reads the story in a radically different of "traitor" most hated in history and makes it the most faithful disciple of Christ, a remarkable document that in addition to providing unprecedented information about Judas rehabilitation as one who delivered Jesus to the authorities on request of the Christ: The Gospel of Judas.
"Have you turned on the radio you? Turn it down! "
Chopped zucchini, melt the butter in a frying pan, add the chopped zucchini, I cook for about twenty minutes. Let cool, combine the eggs and cream but before amalgam together properly.
Yes, okay, even in this recipe is the cream. And what about my chili, which are multiplying so embarrassing? But I have to take what ever I so intense in this period? I'm still on the ground with my weight as if I were afraid of being swept away by a hurricane.
I could try the soy cream, maybe it's better than his milk, not that awful aftertaste. The sweet soy sauce is another thing, that yes it's good, sometimes we dress the salad. But there is in sugar syrup and molasses also, too many calories.
let it be, now returns to the piece I was writing for the newspaper: I try to frame the upheavals of the cosmos and the atmosphere, continents and oceans of our Earth. It is not easy and not at all clear. Or maybe I could prima dedicarmi al mio racconto? Sì, incomincio da dove l’ho lasciato ieri. Ma dove mai l’avrò salvato? Possibile che non riesca ancora a mettere i file nelle cartelle giuste? Vorrà dire che continuo con il pezzo per il giornale, ho poco tempo ormai per la consegna.
E oggi è anche Natale. Ma è possibile che mi devo ridurre sempre all’ultimo?
Un file a lungo coccolato che si perde nel nulla di uno schermo e svanisce: lì ci sono le molecole del mio pensiero divenute parola, poi d’un tratto non ci sono più. Non riesco a ripescarle in quest’abisso a cristalli liquidi eppure esistono, hanno preso corpo e vivono in una dimensione che non vedo. Riuscirò a riafferrarle to remember?
So today is my every moment: turn the page, moved by something invisible that takes me out of me, far away from me I've been up to that moment and suddenly I do not know what color were my thoughts , a few moments before. Maybe gray, sometimes red, when I get mad at me, or green, when I would like as a whole. When I close my eyes and say: Now I wake up and I am not afraid.
My name is Mary Light, but I prefer light and little I forties. I live in Milan, gray and sticky but open to the world like the great belly of a whale: eats anything it finds and then he boasts. He also tried to devour me but I was stuck between his mustache and sometimes there can see the sea and light. The whale has used a homeless made me meet in the late eighties under the house, just as I was going to park my car in the garage.
"Let me go," he yelled through my window partially open, but I pretended not to. I've received in my car. I do not know, was the first time I saw him in my part.
But in Milan, you know, we do not even know the landing between neighbors. And then I went to pick him up. It was almost dark, the droplets of mist and vapor were stuck on that glass half-open: I looked out the window with his eyes a bit 'closed eyes and an enigmatic. I could ask him why he wanted to get on my car but at that moment I could not help but imagine invisible as I left without answering.
I chased running: When I turned off the engine, I thought maybe I had gotten into a mess, but what was the point to get in the car that I had never seen one? 'Hello,' and I thought I get along well, but he had another idea. I understand when you are stuck in the box, opened the door and sat in the car beside me, silently, without speaking. He remained motionless staring at the windscreen wipers, still like him. I realized that was the object del suo totale interesse perché ha avvicinato la sua mano grossa e segnata dal tempo al finestrino e con voce atona mi ha chiesto: «Funziona solo quando piove?»
«No, anche se non piove.»
«Bene, allora aspettiamo qui che si metta a piovere.»
«Nel box? Qui non piove mai»
«Non è vero. Qualche volta succede»
In questi anni ho sempre cercato di tenere lontana da me quella sensazione di grande imbarazzo e quella paura che ha accompagnato solo un paio di pensieri, mentre desideravo fuggire: speriamo che qualcuno ci veda e speriamo che nessuno se ne accorga. Il primo pensiero fu per me, il secondo per lui o forse ancora per me. È vero raped the woman feels a deep and unhealthy guilt. It was my fault because I did not get on my machine. But what the hell was he doing around here a guy like that?
"Be careful when you go to put the car in the garage, you know how many we read in the newspaper?" Certainly, for my mother is always a disaster, the life in every corner there is a trap, a danger.
"Okay, Mom, but in your opinion what should I do? Starmene locked in the house and unlikely to prevent future hazards? "
But here it is, the future is unlikely and this was done and reliable. And I was, then, the next of which would be read in the newspaper? Or perhaps victim was this poor man who had felt rejected by me?
And then I yelled, even if my voice came out barely. I do not know if it was fear, my habit of discretion, or the certainty that quell'anziano man dressed in rags was not there to hurt me but only because he had a house is not there. And I do. And I also had a car. I screamed and he ran away, flaky but fast.
"What happened, sir?"
"Lady?"
I got married very early and has always made me feel that they call me. It happened rarely, and then I had little more than twenty years. And he calls me ma'am ...
"It was a bum, he wanted to get in the car with me, I have not heard. He opened the door and sat down beside me. But where did he go now? "
Trembling but smiling, with the air of one who is good and" nothing happened "out of the box are accompanied by worker workshop that he had heard my screams and came in my help.
"We need to make a complaint. If he wants to accompany her to the police. "
'Forget it. That's fine. It's okay. And then I did nothing. "
I've always kept hidden what was wrong, I swallowed it all. "That's okay, it does not matter "was my motto for years. But maybe I was right to speak, at least not let the little dragon swallowed grow inside me, making giant.
I have lost the habit of rejoicing in the foggy season, who knows if it was the beginning of my senescence, or baptism of my life. After a few months, my first panic and a sense of suffocation that often took me to the ER. It still happens, but less frequently.
My great discomfort now someone calls him a gift, who is treating me says that at last with my illness I am remembering to exist: for now I'm just so bad, but I hope that this absurd gift is under my wing and do not fly away along with that part of me that I still can not hold back. Perhaps realizing
to exist I have ceased to live my omnipotence, that certainty that nothing could happen to me outside of my will, but I have my physicality under the laws of all, they are destined, inevitably, to retire before or Then my physical body. I felt immortal? But what teenager does not believe to be one? And I have always been a bit 'in teenager: I had not thought at the end. And with the sad awareness of non-deity, came to me through a homeless man who asked only to be just a drive up to the box, it was perched distress, seizing vital functions. I chose the disease.
How your body, even my house is infected with nolontà : its lack of harmony with that part of me that perhaps you're waking up, it weighs on my desire to love her. It is a strange house to my mind, a shell from autonomous life that is self-managed, independently of me.
And my table is filled with sheets piled up that I can not throw away, that I can not control, like the thousand ills that assail me against my will.
"Throw away, do not take things that do not need, do some 'cleaning,' My mother did nothing but repeat words like that.
When I write for the newspaper myself I speak of Feng Shui and packed impeccable services on "letting go".
Yet I am unable to throw in the trash these shreds of life, notes and loose sheets that do not belong to me most: my illness is that maybe there is but that is invented every day its space in my brain. And I dare not throw it in the garbage because now I know to exist. If the total illness which threatens in my mind and then sinks into the organs of my body ceases to exist, what would become of me?
is not yet time to clean up this table: Let them make piles of toxic paper space in which I live, my house I do not like, will not be mine till I will not resume possession of me. For now I just make an apparent temporary cleaning for a few hours, because my husband, coming back tonight, I do not touch my stuff to get rid of the chaos. But I know that chaos will return: let things live their breath, I'm not more responsible. I want to be responsible only for my breath. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale ... It is not difficult, but every time I think ... Here the crisis is coming. And now, as I do? With the Christmas lunch in the middle ... and the guests that he will soon come.
2
you also for the earth?
me a little 'see what happens over there
Another Dimension
They told me that it is time to return. It seems to me to be a little 'back, I still have not decided anything, the ideas are a bit' confused, I do not know what is best to do. I asked a few suggestions but keep telling me that not even mentioned, that I must take my responsibility to the end and that I just have to decide based on my budget.
Yes, this is clear to me, I must go down and spoke in the wheels turn in fertile ground, I believe that my role is also to remember that you can not solve a problem with the same thinking that caused it.
of my lives do not remember anything but I mind the day when I came back here after one of the lives that probably the strongest I have ever lived, all looked at me with a strange admiration and a little 'pity.
"I have been waiting for. It seems that everyone has anxiously following your every gesture and every word. "
was a woman with ebony skin color, the most beautiful I have ever seen. I realized later that in this dimension at some point the bodies lost ground their boundaries, where space and time dissolve completely and the illusion fades and then vanishes. I, however, did not remember any of my up and down through the various existences, I thought that this new friend was a good company.
"Thank you, it was hard but I felt the sky next to the last moment."
I said so. I thought it was strange but the logic of Heaven and the Earth do not always go in the same direction. True, it was tough, but a spoke in the wheels have been valuable for my Flight Plan: what ever else I redeemed?
Sometimes I get these flashbacks but still do not know connect anything, can not remember my old identity or what he did, but the eyes of the woman I was impressed.
I have to go down, all right, but the space-time variables displace me a bit '.
time I was already on cue, almost kindly sending me stand where you count the time, even on the European choice will not let me speak of the Earth, they say that there have already done great things and I have to go back because ' opportunities that humanity is only in recent years. But other than that, I can do as I want, or rather, I do not have to do is get into the flow of events.
is strange, since I have given this news and I have announced a new task, the colors in the sky have changed and I start to see the looks of other souls and to warn the faint outlines.
I can not speak of the body, it would be absurd, but there is something evanescent that radiates around each light.
"What are you doing in front of the veil?" The space around me is filled with flames excited. "We're squinting, we must choose where to go. You too? "
" You, too, for the Earth? Let me a little 'see what happens there. "
is not easy to agree to look at, now that we have long since learned to detach. At first, between the other life, we are always here for nostalgia, regrets, regrets. Then all this goes beyond the veil and those who want to watch more? What is here is because there may be more desirable. But when we have to go, a nice refresher does not hurt.
"And you know where to go?" He asks a violet light.
And if she was really the woman who had never seen again? Strange thought, I'll just be, next to the veil, for the nostalgia of memories come to me got out.
I do not know. I'm here to make me an idea. And you? "
While I ask him to tell myself that I shall find that we will little way along this new life that is waiting.
"I have no idea but I'd go with you."
I feel that I smile, his light has a new vibration.
We approach is offset slightly the veil.
We are here to choose where to go and the endless possibilities for a moment make me dizzy. It is true, one need only tune where we want, think hard to be there and probably we would end up immediately in the town we chose, but we can not want something so intensely that belongs to another dimension, that of earth. We stopped doing that.
So peep beyond the veil, and seeking scraps of the world that make me want to be there. For now I do not feel anything special, I'll get used to slowly. But I'm happy here, in this location, is an opportunity to get together, chat with other lights waiting to be made flesh.
"They called you?"
