Stories and News

Stories and News No. 747 In a B&B in Rome a mother of Ravenna was advised to get out for his son, an autistic child. Because he might disturb... Once upon a time there was a population. A united population. Tight in the middle of the world. Safe, protected. Possibly away. From danger. Real or narrated it might be, because if the story and the news will greet along the way, it means that the boundaries between the naïve invention and the roughness of the bare ground becomes ambiguous. Confused and rarefied. Getting the most paradoxical outcome. To fascinate drunken people by misguided tales, at the same time, to strengthen the beliefs of the population in question. No one knows when it all began. The exact moment when the intruder dared to shatter the evanescent eggs in the basket of dull anguish drawn. What matters is that the story changed. A girl with unregulated voice screamed, spotting the silent living of the population away. So the latter reacted by pure c

Stories and News No. 746 Rishi Khanal, 27, was rescued . The man remained 82 hours under the rubble of a hotel in Kathmandu, due to the earthquake that recently hit Nepal. He is still alive because he resisted. And because someone went to save it. Well, the story is all there. In the middle... Once upon a time there was the earthquake victims. No, do not immediately jump to the logical conclusion. Imagine. Imagine with me the overwhelmed and buried lives by more or less noisy shocks. You choose the preferred scale. That seismologists of human destiny may define as well the severity of the quake. The result does not change and the picture remains intact. Tiny breathing and late hearts, behind the last turn, but still in the running. Still determined to overcome it, that blessed breakthrough. Come up with me at the turn of the simple metaphor and watch them where usually the living eye sees things. You do not see anything, don’t you? Dust, confused vapors of dust. A

Stories and News No. 745 Once upon a time there were superheroes. But not those of the comics. And then the movies. Because let's face it, before they were comics. Then movies. It is always fine to remember well, where you tell of heroes and great exploit. Deadly challenges. Between good and bad. The superheroes which I speak of are different. Because they are real. Seriously, there do, I know them, I saw them. We spoke with them. I heard them. Some do not know it yet. They are the Avengers , yes, just like the movie. They have got the powers too, no jokes. There is Tor , without the aitch, which stands for Torquato , but when you call him you do not see the difference. He is an alien , a real alien: he is a bricklayer. Because only an alien would be able to stand still in front of the quantity of hate so-called news is told every day. He is an alien with a tireless hammer. A marvelous weapon, capable of transforming the empty and the walls that enclose them i

Story published on the collection: Italian short stories, a dual language book : True short stories collection to understand contemporary Italy (2017)

Stories and News No. 743 Once upon a time there was the world. No, hold on your intolerant bellies. The hearts lightened by a wise disenchantment. The accusing fingers of a perpetually sitting jury. It is the wrong world, which I speak of. So, you may safely consider the story and also the narrator blatantly out of place. Decidedly inappropriate. ‘He is smart, but does not study enough’ and ‘he is overly exuberant’, as someone wrote several times on my school stone. In the wrong world there was the sea. Yes, like ours, but in the wrong version. Only two kind of people lived in the distorted world. Travelers and guests. Without any other category. Classes. And, if you really want, you may say races too. In the wrong world using such words would be just fine. Wrong, I mean. The guests were all living on an island. Then in our world should be a limited portion of land completely surrounded by water. But since in the wrong world it was the only mainland, was called t

Stories and News No. 742 I read that Matheryn Naovaratpong, a two years old Thai girl child, was declared dead in January because of an incurable brain tumor and now is the youngest person in history to be Cryogenically frozen. With the hope that upon awakening, mankind has discovered not only a way to bring her back to life, but also care to heal her. What a big shot, betting hope on mankind... Once upon a time there was a girl. A dreamer girl. One of those stubborn. With masochistic dedication to gamble everything on the ending surprise. A twist, the virtuosity of the script or just a clumsy deus ex machina, the crucial turning point. The unexpected turn, that becomes grimace on the face of cynical pro grumblers. Wishing to claim: ”Improbable stories and plays were fine. The outbreaks of possibilities really survived the utopia’s storm. The one that may convince you that all was just a utopia. So we were right. Then...” Craving speech, this, meaningful only in the rea

Stories and News No. 741 Once upon a time there was a republic. I will not say what it was founded on. So I will avoid to make fun of you. The republic which I will not tell you what it was founded on was still. Now, we all know that in the world republics do not go out for a walk. The republics do not emigrate. Those are the mutilated souls. In search of the missing fragment. Even if it means losing everything else. Nevertheless, it is a good thing when human travelers decide to pursue common horizons. You might call them republic, as even gang or band, what matters is that at least one of those horizons is every day closer. Otherwise there is wasted asphalt on the road. And even if there is no more evidence on the way, someone has spent blood and dreams to draw it. Yet, that republic was still. Because it was always stopped on the same day. The hours looked at each other puzzled. The minutes seemed to be surprised. And the seconds... well, if hours and minutes do

Stories and News No. 740 It seems that finally the US president Barack Obama has asked to remove Cuba from the list of countries considered – by the USA - terrorism sponsor. This suggests me the following story... Once upon a time there was a land and an island. The land of opportunities and the island of obstinate people . So defined in one direction. Island of free people , on the contrary. Depending on where everyone looked the other. For smooth and democratic agreement, I will use the most welcome to both names. The land of opportunities was so called because this is what it was. Endorsement of any opportunities. Even to self-define. The land of opportunities . The land of opportunities, then, allowed many of them. As the right to create a list. A blacklist . Always black the unpleasant color, isn’t it? Well, being honest, since immemorial time the bad guys lists are white . At least originally. Then you fill it with red pen. There is no trace of black. All

Stories and News No. 739 I read that according to the French press, the new Vatican ambassador in France, Laurent Stéfanini, despite being nominated since four months did not get the final approval because of his sexual orientation. Of course, this suggests to me a story. Another one… Once upon a time there was a State. I am not talking about them, I says another State. Do not think of them, right? They were other people, with other rules and different moral precepts. Now, I have to say also that at the head of this State there was a government which paid much attention to those rules and precepts. In a manic way, being honest. Everything was going in a workmanlike and things went straight according to the road indicated by the government. And by the Book, the one with the capital B. Yes, because when burning conflicts arise and there is need to write better stories of the past, there is always somewhere a Book with a capital B. The day when the government decided to ma

Stories and News No. 738 In a gypsy camp, in a trailer, somewhere. A man looks out the window and watches the life in the camp. Because, despite the more or less astute delusions by vile guys. There is life in a camp. Of human substance. A six years old girl child is with him. And she is curious. “Uncle Nicolae?” “Yes?” “Can you speak well?” “Yes for sure. We live in a camp, but the camp is in a larger one, you can call it Rome, which is in another camp that is Italy, in another camp that should be Europe, which is in another one...” “I understand, uncle. But you know all the words? “ “You can be sure about that.” “What does gypsy mean?” The man leaves behind the window and observes the child's eyes. There is life in the camp, but in her any infinitely more. However, he notices the apprehension in her face. He must do something about it and uses the better human weapon, whereas the larger camps are always too many for you. “Dear Nadya, Gypsy is a beautiful word.

Stories and News No. 737 After the sentence by of the European Court of Human Rights in Strasbourg for the police violence on the Diaz school, proper today it was expected that the Italian parliament discussed about a special bill on the torture crime. Better late than never. Different story in the blessed land... Once upon a time there was the blessed land. No, do not raise your heads. It is not up there. Quite the contrary. This is a simple story, the kind that, as negligible crumbs, slip away from the VIP’s table. To feed those who touch the ground with their very hands. Blessed is the land no law prohibited the tying and gagging someone to put cigarette butts on his skin. Yet, none was stained by that unspeakable act. There was no provision in the blessed land, which prevented anyone to strip persons humiliating them. Nevertheless, nobody performed such infamy. In the blessed land there was no rule prohibiting a person to lock up people unfairly. However, no one

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