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Sleeping in a room without windows

As I looked, the voice of another age, his hands fell on his face, for fun, I thought it would be a bit 'a shame, a bit' an insult to the intelligence (dis) ordering of the meetings, an illegality beautiful and good, with the complicity of our immaturity and distinct so innocently obvious, a certain awkwardness to make reservations and to stir up the pole and the rest of the world barricaded off, with photographers and onlookers, waiting for an event that will be consumed in silence and without the knowledge of authorities. A shame, an outrage, an illegality, not to delay as much as possible the moment the applause, when people casually talks as if the stage had suddenly dissolved under the wave of their shots, not to regulate stunned the last traces of white lights and white, which is also a redemption and a chance to start again from scratch as a separate new.

She slept in a terrace where there was room only for the bed, and a wall of bars to repair the falls, or their simple projection in fear, devouring the moment in which a tear had shown the possibility that the words were finished talking to them, they shrank the conflict in the confirmation of the complications away.

He watched a stream, the stream that had every kind of American action film that is, every time I needed a scene with a stream going to frame that. Had they not pointed out by showing photos of various films with a stream in the scene, and actually matched them all. It was not asleep. The cries for help of a road in the Trans had lacerated his stomach, and had died when he tried to tear away the cynicism in the concern of possible damage to his car, parked below. At that point the wall had started to sneeze and some windows had been opened as an annoyance call. The black writing on the ceiling, dashed from the chandelier still, only letters were indistinguishable and presumably changing and did not give any explanation to the kit launch vehemently injunctions against the impotence, in spite of the uncertainty principle of H, its an observer in the face of reality.

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have the meaning that you will give to my presence

when the door closes I feel a bit 'vacuum. or maybe socks. maybe you just so that I do not even realize, one hand clutching the eyes to cover the violent scenes and a song to hide the background of gunfire and explosions. protect you from the emptiness of a fog on the first floor of Tarkovsky indistinct, but you will get closer, printed sul mio viso, che la luce e il respiro depurano dal tempo, come in quel sogno, una bambina. Il vuoto è proprio dietro di me, disteso alle mie ombre, una per ogni luce sul palco. Perderti e proteggerti coincidono con lo stesso movimento in avanti, io sono il punto d’equilibrio, la barriera saldata sul precipizio che è anche l’unico appiglio esistente. Quando te ne andrai, un istante atterrito concederà al corpo invaso dal nulla  di incespicare spandendosi a terra, togliendo materia al vento, ritornando lentamente alla distrazione degli specchi, niente di cui dolersi, solo spazio da riempire, fra gli interrogativi sul senso avuto dall’uscire da se per incontrarti, giustificazioni nella Beauty to wake up find you sprung up from the collarbone, in the perception of the potential you have to let me get the picture I have of me, that is on your liquid form and discontinuous, which are modeled your cheeks in my hands.

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Adrift: Parks and Gardens 3 / 3: The Naked Park.



The main objective of cities such as Milan is to believe that underneath it never existed at all, that there was no grass, earthworms, crickets, mushrooms, rivers, land.
Rather, a sort of neutral ground, a platform specially designed to accommodate urban areas. The green one encounters around gives the impression of having been imposed from above with a crane, as the great vessels of asphalt in which to grow trees stuffed. Of course you do not think that Milan has spread around at the park in your house, that urbanization has shunned them for mercy.
None of us is a city, but who would have had to become probably very proud to have finally destroyed nature, earthworms, crickets, the earth beneath our shoes dirty then I cleaned all day, the ants. And it feels so
Milan. Free from the inconveniences of the world as we have been given.
For this reason, it is absolutely inconceivable to any sort of climate change and weather patterns.
The sky, which in most of the land has the advantage of not being built on, not afraid of zoning or late capitalism.
The sky's the dorks, and that Milan is not well. It rains a lot or a little rain, there is the summer heat or air in the mountains, cold or humidity Soviet of Satan, Milan on time are surprised and very quickly try to draw from their stupor of statements parascientific.
Living in this city for 28 years, and if only I had kept a notebook with some notes, I probably would have noticed that in February is always a fucking cold, it rains a lot in June, that sometimes it snows a little 'accident and with the snow that we do not make the bullets, which sooner or later comes a week of awful hot.
Each of these events come to Milan but as it was unique, with an exasperated roar, and soon the ranks and the ranks of the symptoms of an impending climate apocalypse (people at the bar that worried face and says Hollywood "anyway is not normal that makes this hot ") or as a sort of one-off miracle. In the latter category is the big snow falls.

The Snowstorm is every couple of years, but none would be ready to swear, because each of them can boast the legendary memories contours and difficult to place in time. There is talk of serious snow, the one that blocks everything and that triggered sensational battles in front of schools, the snow of a God who tries to tell you something. In one of the biggest snowfalls in Milan in which I participated in, or perhaps in all, we went to the Parco Lambro do bob races down a hill, which look more like an episode of Jackass since almost everyone was completely drunk.
Ecco, il Parco Lambro, quello sì, dà l’idea di un pezzo di mondo schivato dalla città, dribblato per rispetto. Entrateci da Via Feltre, possibilmente di notte, possibilmente non dopo aver visto filmacci sui serial killer che girano per i parchi a caso, e cercate di sfruttare gli alberi e le pendenze – due cose con cui a Milano non si ha mai a che fare. Sugli alberi potete arrampicarvi (io non riesco), per il pendio potete fare i rotoloni o aspettare che nevichi tenendo il bob in mano. Potrebbero volerci un paio d’anni o forse no, ma quando accadrà sarà bellissimo e arriveranno persone gioiose e forse un po’ oblique, convinte che Milano sia sotto un incantesimo.

Quello che il Parco Lambro può offrirvi senza manto bianco vale comunque una visita, possibilmente in una notte ispirata, nebbiosa o disperata (quella nel video era un po' di tutte e tre). Fu il teatro dello storico, discusso, incazzatissimo Festival del Proletariato Giovanile nel 1976, quattro giorni organizzati da Re Nudo, duecentomila persone, mille casini. Oggi, gente che lo attraversa in cuffia pensando sto dimagrendo sto dimagrendo , animali feroci che non si fanno vedere e luci aliene che ti fanno credere che a Milano di notte ci siano dozzine di lune.
Anche quando non ce n’è neanche una.

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In progress