Stories and News

The Story : My name is Ciro and I write from Naples. I never sent a letter to a newspaper, but tonight I couldn’t resist. Sunday was Noemi’s birthday, a beautiful girl of my school. I confess here, on this page: I love her. The fact is that I wanted to open my heart just that evening, on her birthday. I crazily worked to buy a new dress. Then I went to Pasquale, he is my father’s barber, and I told him: “Pasquale, I am in your hands: make me gorgeous!" I know that I am not beautiful, but I am a little brave. Not so much, but enough to put the brilliantine on my hair and go to the party, to conquer her heart. I perfectly know that Noemi has very important friends. I know that she has a lot of suitors, but I am stubborn. Capa tosta*, my mother says in Neapolitan dialect. So, I entered the nightclub and I started to look for her eyes. Then I saw her in the middle of the disco, beautiful like a star. A step, another one, I was almost arrived and I was trying to remember what I wanted

For many reasons we are used to see Italian Parliament, particularly the Chamber of Deputies , represented in this way: Centre-Left on one side and Centre-Right on the other, divided by the Centre , or more precisely by the Centre of gravity , indicated by the black dot in the middle. If we want to describe the parties that are no more represented too, we can imagine it like this: In an ideal world, especially created by our imagination, the Centre of gravity coincides exactly with the geometric centre . In Physics this happens if the body (the Parliament) has uniform density . The density directly influences the weight . Applying all to the Chamber of Deputies, we can deduce that the centre of gravity corresponds to the geometric centre in proportion to the weight uniformity of the parliamentary groups themselves, according to the actual results of recent elections. In other words, the Chamber has a uniform balance in relation to the wishes expressed by Italian people in 2008 if ea

The Story : I don’t want to worry anyone. It’s not my intention to create highly inappropriate psychosis. I am not an irresponsible as a researcher in the Abruzzo region, which has lead to unnecessarily panic... It’s not my fault if in Mexico over a hundred people died for the swine flu! Yes, I agree, in India from 2001 to 2007 12 million new cases of leprosy came out. Only in Sub Saharan Africa there are 28 million people affected by HIV . Each year 2 million people die of tuberculosis worldwide. I don’t want talk about the SARS flu, which nobody longer speaks of, but yes, let’s talk about: the World Health Organization warns that in the coming years there will be an increase in the spread of the virus. Why no one says anything? And what happened to the mad cow ? Who may assure us that we are in danger no more? About me, for my safety, since 2001 I no longer eat beef. Since 2005 I stop eating Chinese food and generally not Italian cooking. I don’t need to go into the street eating

The Story : Our country has almost ever followed the United States in a blindly way. The recent prove is that the previous Berlusconi government was fully agree with Bush opinions on environmental issues and, despite Obama has a radically different point of view , the new Silvio’s government is still in perfect sync with Uncle Sam. So, very soon, after the sensational announcement by an American researcher on the cloning of 14 embryos, here is an Italian scientist ready to go after the important ally: "Here in Italy I have cloned 14 embryos too. Precisely it happened in Milan, the capital of the north and soon also of the rest of the country. I don’t need to say from whom I have taken the basic cells for the experiment. I chose the best that our country has today. I am talking about a man who every day represents all of us, showing a considerable temperament and a bit goliardic attitude , which hardly fails, despite what his detractors say. The reason for this futuristic project

The Story : Here is the transcription of the phone call : My name is... No, I don’t tell you my name. After all, it doesn’t matter to you… I am an illegal immigrant, for you I am just an illegal immigrant. I haven’t your citizenship and your law says that I have no right to put my feet on your country. I have just the licence to stay here, in this CPT (Centro di Permanenza Temporanea), this Temporary Residency Centre, where illegal people are collected before to be deported. Indeed, they are now called CIE, Centre for Identification and Expulsion. Left or Right style, the substance doesn’t change. I have not much time; they will soon notice that I have stolen a mobile phone to a guard. He was distracted watching the Big Brother. Fortunately the TV transmits this boring shit. So, this is my request: could I remain here? Please, don’t let me out! Here I live in a kind of container. I'm not complaining. Containers are what Abruzzo quake’s people dream as replacing of the tents. The hy

The Story : From Rashida Kirimova’s diary, the evening before her death : My dear Diary, I perfectly know that I am old enough to stop writing here... However, when you have nobody to talk about something important, when no one seems to think like you, when you desperately want to believe that you are not alone seeing like that, the only solution is to put it on paper, black on white. The vantage is that you can always read it and discover that, at least there, it doesn’t seem so bad. Indeed, it’s the contrary. For this reason, I will write it here, now: I have beautiful legs. It’s not enough, I don’t need to be modest facing the truth: I have wonderful legs. The line is perfect, the skin is smooth and velvety, the knees are undoubtedly proportional and my ankles, well, and my ankles seem those of a valuable sculpture. I could talk about the legs but I don’t necessitate: if this is the prelude… Mom never told me, but she thinks so. I just look at her eyes to believe, or at least I wish

It’s not time for polemics, someone wrote. This is the moment for solidarity, someone else has said. I agree. I worked in the world of solidarity for fifteen years and I learned something. If we want to help people who are suffering because of a tragic event, two things make the difference: quality and time. Quality of help we offer, in other words, an aid that must match people needs, which must arise from them and not the contrary, for example. Time is not less important, time that we really choose to sacrifice for the tragedy, remaining close to people, especially when all forget them... The Italian earthquakes* and the day after we don’t want : The earthquake in Molise (2002) : The 2002 Molise earthquake was a magnitude 5.9 earthquake that hit the Italian regions of Molise and Puglia on October 31, 2002 at 10:32:58 (UTC). The depth of the earthquake was 10.0 km (6.2 miles). Most of the victims of the earthquake suffered when a school collapsed in the town of San Giuliano di Puglia.

The Story : Peter was nine years old. Together with other students of his school he was chosen to participate in the G20, having the honour to attend the world leaders meeting. When he returned from the visit, he received the task of writing a composition to tell to his school companions about his experience : My day at the G20 was very beautiful. There were many people, from all over the world, of every colour. Everybody was smiling and shaking hands, talking and giving packs on shoulders. It’s nice to know that the world presidents get together to solve problems of all. My mother has been fired, but my father still has a job and this makes us lucky. This my dad told to my brother and me while we were at dinner, but I think he was talking to mom. The most beautiful moment was when I met the leaders. It was just before the group photo. I had never seen the Queen so closely. She seems only an old woman. She is an elegant lady, but just an old woman. Our Prime Minister, Gordon Brown, was

The Story : Somewhere, after the death : Jesse took the newspaper for his usual read. Well, yes, they read the newspaper too. Besides, they have time... The news was on the front page! The man did not believe in his eyes. Yeah, eyes. The whole body goes there. You might ask: “What about the soul?” No soul, that's an invention of the living. Jesse was breathless when his brain realized how many dollars the Philip Norris would have to pay to his wife... Inevitably a tear flew away from his right eye, the one with the tic. Yes, there you will loose all your infirmities, stay calm, but the tics remain. They are the trade mark, as your favourite football team and your secret vices. Suddenly a voice called him behind his shoulders: “Mr William? Is everything fine?” Jesse turned his head and saw the angel. “It’s okay,” he said, “I feel good. I'm just happy...” “I’m glad to hear it," the other said, putting on him his dark eyes. Another surprise, I imagine. The angels are not blon