Stories and News No. 914
I read that thanks to commitment of the "Meeting of Civilizations" Association and the fundamental support of Third Pillar - Italian and Mediterranean "Rising from destruction" Foundation various works damaged in Iraq and Syria have been faithfully recreated using modern technology and put on display at the Colosseum in Rome.
They say that things are ever getting worse.
The usual pessimistic.
Before was better, the future is dark and other depressions on the horizon, I know them.
Fortunately, the truth is that in the peaceful world they look ahead, keeping a careful memory of what is left behind.
What behind was shattered.
Forever.
Well, we cannot say it anymore.
Meeting of civilizations, what a beautiful sentence, I write it anywhere.
In my head, in the essential records of a wounded memory and on the few usable pages of a soul tattered by a destiny that I would call sadistic.
Well, I cannot say it anymore.
Reborn from death? But this is even more beautiful than before.
I will make a tattoo on my skin with these words, one of those that are fashionable in your country, that I never dreamed to show off as well.
Well, I can do it now.
Calmly, I know, I should not be in a hurry with the miracles.
They are like good stories and true love: you should not look for them, they find you.
I know how good luck’s world slips away. Many despicable things take precedence over life. But if it is something as sublime as art I may be patient.
First the statues and towers, the busts and arches, amphorae and capitals, there is no problem.
And then it is up to us, coming back to life from the destruction, am I wrong?
With your magical machines in infinite dimensions I know that you will do what is right.
I get emotional just at the thought of seeing again the room where I started playing.
And the road that would take me to school.
The class and the blackboard.
The beautiful square and the old one.
The house of my grandmother.
And one of that man... I cannot remember his name, but he was my father's friend.
Then you will give me back my dad too, don’t you?
I want to think so, that in your town, where bombs and wars are fake as a video on the news, having returned love and dignity to the sublime works of oriental humans, you will do the same with their children, even if they never were equally magnificent.
But maybe one day we will be, I can say now.
Read more stories with morals
Buy my latest book The hoax of the migrants
Listen my song Wolves
Storytelling videos with subtitles
I read that thanks to commitment of the "Meeting of Civilizations" Association and the fundamental support of Third Pillar - Italian and Mediterranean "Rising from destruction" Foundation various works damaged in Iraq and Syria have been faithfully recreated using modern technology and put on display at the Colosseum in Rome.
They say that things are ever getting worse.
Before was better, the future is dark and other depressions on the horizon, I know them.
Fortunately, the truth is that in the peaceful world they look ahead, keeping a careful memory of what is left behind.
What behind was shattered.
Forever.
Well, we cannot say it anymore.
Meeting of civilizations, what a beautiful sentence, I write it anywhere.
In my head, in the essential records of a wounded memory and on the few usable pages of a soul tattered by a destiny that I would call sadistic.
Well, I cannot say it anymore.
Reborn from death? But this is even more beautiful than before.
I will make a tattoo on my skin with these words, one of those that are fashionable in your country, that I never dreamed to show off as well.
Well, I can do it now.
Calmly, I know, I should not be in a hurry with the miracles.
They are like good stories and true love: you should not look for them, they find you.
I know how good luck’s world slips away. Many despicable things take precedence over life. But if it is something as sublime as art I may be patient.
First the statues and towers, the busts and arches, amphorae and capitals, there is no problem.
And then it is up to us, coming back to life from the destruction, am I wrong?
With your magical machines in infinite dimensions I know that you will do what is right.
I get emotional just at the thought of seeing again the room where I started playing.
And the road that would take me to school.
The class and the blackboard.
The beautiful square and the old one.
The house of my grandmother.
And one of that man... I cannot remember his name, but he was my father's friend.
Then you will give me back my dad too, don’t you?
I want to think so, that in your town, where bombs and wars are fake as a video on the news, having returned love and dignity to the sublime works of oriental humans, you will do the same with their children, even if they never were equally magnificent.
But maybe one day we will be, I can say now.
Read more stories with morals
Buy my latest book The hoax of the migrants
Listen my song Wolves
Storytelling videos with subtitles