Stories and News No. 1206
Once upon a time a petty password, a shabby - anything but secret code, an irreverent mantra -more than sacred mantra, all in one abused, plural present participle: migrants.
That is a shape shifting word depending on the decade, but of univocal meaning, in the truth of appropriately manipulated facts. In this regard, see also immigrant, clandestine and refugee.
Cui prodest? This is the decisive question, as often happens in questions related to sinister and cynical interests.
The answer is there, everybody may see it, without disturbing wise historians and authoritative translators of the controversial contemporaneity. It is shamefully simple and obtusely cyclical to materialize in time with electoral consultations.
The current ones are italian regional elections, which should take place immediately after the summer, from 20 to 21 September.
Well, as if moved by a sort of call to army for sleeping spies, Matteo Salvini and his associates immediately took action to bite their favorite prey, with stale blood on the fangs and foul-smelling drool on the mouth.
So that the execrable poison spreads again inside what remains of the hearts of those in need of hatred and enemies. So that they should vote according to that hate rather than conscience. For my part, I do not give up and I still trust in people of healthy will, and in the strength of the words themselves. Even if they have been exploited to death.
I am talking about migrants, plural present participle of migrant, by the verb migrate. Well, it regards of each one of us, nobody may feel immovable.
Hence the following, poetic as provocative in its intentions, illustration of the many, misrepresented meanings:
Curious migrants: those who do not just focus their gaze and trust on the diversity of the world, but who find the courage to stand up and walk in their direction and run the risk of embracing them.
Migrants in love: those who are willing to cross every distance, even the one who separates the heart from one's pride, for the loved ones’ happiness.
Ambitious migrants: those who see the climbs as the only roads worthy of being the name.
Lucky migrants: those who at the beginning of the journey are free of charge both skin’s colour and birthplace. Maybe, that is why they find hard to understand inescapable urgency of leaving - or arriving.
Dreaming Migrants: those who refuse to accept their fathers' choices on the world that no longer belongs to the latter.
Emotional migrants: those who avoid any kind of lucid landing, since, among other things, living means feeling.
Fearful migrants: those who come to light to walk in reverse, along the path that deludes them to bring them back, to the refuge that perhaps has never been so. They are often harmless, sometimes they are terribly dangerous.
Intolerant migrants: those who proceed with their eyes blinded by lies and delusions, attracted only by the cheapest scapegoats.
Megalomaniac migrants: those who have only one goal, placed at the end of a false rainbow, without colors and with a distorted line: they called it power, but the truth is that none of them has ever really found what they are looking for.
I could go on, but I will stop here and finish with the most important one, once again mistreated and exploited these days.
Living migrants: those who wish to breathe oxygen, love someone, not necessarily all, and feel some joy from time to time. Without demanding the moon.
As you can see, migrating from our life to others’ and back, it turns out they are migrants and we all are too, despite what is ignobly told between one election and another...
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That is a shape shifting word depending on the decade, but of univocal meaning, in the truth of appropriately manipulated facts. In this regard, see also immigrant, clandestine and refugee.
Cui prodest? This is the decisive question, as often happens in questions related to sinister and cynical interests.
The answer is there, everybody may see it, without disturbing wise historians and authoritative translators of the controversial contemporaneity. It is shamefully simple and obtusely cyclical to materialize in time with electoral consultations.
The current ones are italian regional elections, which should take place immediately after the summer, from 20 to 21 September.
Well, as if moved by a sort of call to army for sleeping spies, Matteo Salvini and his associates immediately took action to bite their favorite prey, with stale blood on the fangs and foul-smelling drool on the mouth.
So that the execrable poison spreads again inside what remains of the hearts of those in need of hatred and enemies. So that they should vote according to that hate rather than conscience. For my part, I do not give up and I still trust in people of healthy will, and in the strength of the words themselves. Even if they have been exploited to death.
Hence the following, poetic as provocative in its intentions, illustration of the many, misrepresented meanings:
Curious migrants: those who do not just focus their gaze and trust on the diversity of the world, but who find the courage to stand up and walk in their direction and run the risk of embracing them.
Migrants in love: those who are willing to cross every distance, even the one who separates the heart from one's pride, for the loved ones’ happiness.
Ambitious migrants: those who see the climbs as the only roads worthy of being the name.
Lucky migrants: those who at the beginning of the journey are free of charge both skin’s colour and birthplace. Maybe, that is why they find hard to understand inescapable urgency of leaving - or arriving.
Dreaming Migrants: those who refuse to accept their fathers' choices on the world that no longer belongs to the latter.
Emotional migrants: those who avoid any kind of lucid landing, since, among other things, living means feeling.
Fearful migrants: those who come to light to walk in reverse, along the path that deludes them to bring them back, to the refuge that perhaps has never been so. They are often harmless, sometimes they are terribly dangerous.
Intolerant migrants: those who proceed with their eyes blinded by lies and delusions, attracted only by the cheapest scapegoats.
Megalomaniac migrants: those who have only one goal, placed at the end of a false rainbow, without colors and with a distorted line: they called it power, but the truth is that none of them has ever really found what they are looking for.
I could go on, but I will stop here and finish with the most important one, once again mistreated and exploited these days.
Living migrants: those who wish to breathe oxygen, love someone, not necessarily all, and feel some joy from time to time. Without demanding the moon.
As you can see, migrating from our life to others’ and back, it turns out they are migrants and we all are too, despite what is ignobly told between one election and another...
Subscribe to Newsletter