teca esorcizzante
Il PESCIOLINO DISPETTOSO,
more than just a summer storm in the winter blankets, for the scandal of the reactionary right-thinking
THE FISH NAUGHTHY
When I approached the counter wood to pay my Petruzzi transparent plastic, the Chinese lady behind the cashier looked at me and asked, "What do you need?" and I replied, "I do not know, but they are expressive."
Then one night, at home, I began to connect them to each other: they are the sea, are ice, the intracellularly, are glass, are transparent, are lacrime, sono il teorema.
When I went near the wooden counter to pay for my plastic transparent beads, the Chinese woman at the cashier’s desk looked at me and asked. “What they for?”; I answered: “I don’t know, but they are expressive.
Then one night at home I began putting them together one by one: they are the sea; they are ice; they are the intracellular space; they are glass; they are transparency; they are tears; they are the theorem.
Questa in realtà è la vera prima teca esorcizzante, è antecedente a "Il Lego": ma ogni teca di cui vengo a raccontarvi ha il suo momento di narrazione. Le parole ristagnano nei nostri corpi e a seconda della materia di cui sono fatte evaporano, sedimentano, germogliano, imputridiscono, infettano, curano, guariscono, leniscono, o aggravano la situazione. Certe parole che prima creavano malessere ora ci stupiscono per la loro inconsistenza, quelle che sembravano scaturire da una tragedia insuperabile ora appaiono ridicole. Altrettanto, alcune parole che ci facevano sorridere possono tramutarsi in piccoli ragnetti avvelenati che iniziano a scorrere nelle nostre vene e intossicano il cuore, l'anima. Le parole che ci hanno reso felici ricordate in un altro tempo ci fanno solo stare molto male. E quel fiume di parole che arriva finalmente e fisiologicamente al delta porta con sè i detriti della stessa acqua pura che sgorgava alla sorgente.
As a matter of fact, this is my first exorcizing display case; it precedes “Lego”, but every case I’m going to tell you about has its moment in narration. Words stagnate in our bodies and, depending on the material they are made of, they evaporate, settle, sprout, putrefy, infect , cure, heal, ease or worsen the situation. Some words -- that once created malaise – now amaze us for their inconsistency; those which appear to come out of an insurmountable tragedy now seem ludicrous. In the same way, some words that made us laugh can turn into small venomous spiders, That Our start to run through veins and intoxicate our heart, Our soul. The words That made us happy, When at Another Time Remembered, only make us feel very bad. And That stream of words That finally gets to Physiologically and ITS delta Brings Itself with the detritus of That Same That well water spouted from the source.
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| running pirate adrift |
On this sea of \u200b\u200bwords, on this river of tears , in which someone is drowning - I'm going Deeper underground - there is a fish that wallows indifferent, that hovers over the waves without thoughts or feelings of guilt, without feeling the weight on me of any responsibility, without feeling the guilt of abandonment, indifference to pain that causes, flickering and the water car absolves them of sin, jump out of the waters, from quell'amarezza from that mess of tears and words. Was I? Are you?
On this heap of words, in this flood of tears, In Which somebody is drowning - I'm going Deeper underground - there is a small fish that splashes indifferently, that springs over the waves with no thought or guilty feelings; without feeling the weight of responsibility on itself; without feeling the remorse of neglect. It’s indifferent to the pain it causes; it splashes and through the water; it acquits itself from any sin; it jumps out of those waters, of that bitterness, of that mire of tears and words. Was it me? Is it you ?
Ma tra un pò da quegli abissi uscirà Paperino Surfista!
But from that abyss Surfer Donald Duck will rise!
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