Stories and News

Stories and News No. 1222 Once upon a time there was a problem. A huge one to say the least. It is still there, to be honest, and has been around for a long time. Some claim it dates back more than two hundred thousand years. Others even double. So, think about it. Imagine how it has grown and spread everywhere with the passage of time, making its solution inexorably more difficult. Consider Congo, for example. Point the lens of the most reasonable part of your brain on the precious rain forest within the aforementioned African state and widen the frame, while doing the same with your curiosity. Because the topic is urgent at every latitude, no one should feel too far away. Well, do you see the village of Seh? And most importantly, can you see those people? Yes, it is just as you think. They are indigenous, despite the fact that entire generations, ignorant and superficial, have associated this term with misleading and even profitable meanings. I mean savages, uncivilized or worse.

Stories and News No. 1221   November, 2020. We won. Once again we won. Because we are still alive. Because surviving is our triumph. And the simple daily life, which follows this unexpected primacy, is the prize. The first time the virus appeared and made its roar heard in the world, our world - immensely more tangible and vast than yours, it was in another country. Another nation. With different and at the same time similar humanity, identical for the undervalued preciousness of living and incomparable for overestimated trifles. Nonetheless, none of us has ever dreamed of considering those people as cruel planners of the evil or perfidious infectors. Because for us senseless hatred has a very high price and when you are forced to buy it, we know how the story ends. For the record, it was June 1976 and in the aforementioned sister land, nearly 300 were infected by the most invisible enemy of human beings, a creature of negligible size and proportionally inverse danger. At least h

Stories and News No. 1220 My name is Joseph, I’m from Guinea, I’m only coming but I don’t arrive, it will never happen, and this too was written. But not by me, never from me. I died , yet I am here, at six months. Six months from the shore that I left and from the one I only imagined. My last breath, the only consolation, left me while I rested in the arms of someone who has sought and found me, in spite of those who have in vain forgotten and erased me. Between Open Arms everything has gone, figuratively in the English meaning, and much more in the only interpretation that really matters, when the lights go out and you are alone inside you: humanly, an adverb now obsolete in the virtual vocabulary where the most clicked word is indifference. Nevertheless, the unspoken phrases at the moment that mattered, that is before, and the necessary and never performed actions when they would have really saved the rest of the story, they find space the same, six months after a dream called

Stories and News No. 1219 Imagine. Imagine with me, for a minute, at most two. Let's imagine together, for a brief moment, that instead of Covid-19, the invader of our global community – already seriously ill and inhumanly distant – were an alien civilization. Yes, I’m talking about them, as we have almost always described and feared, with novels and science fiction films: the hostile extraterrestrials, who arrived on our planet with the sole purpose of killing us, at best, wearing us out and above all separating us from each other as minimal result, since the well-known Latin phrase “divide et impera” seems to have spread everywhere in the universe, wherever the desire to dominate others lodged. Striving to make the alternative scenario similar to the real one plagued by Covid-19, let's say that the enemy star ships landed in the notorious city of Wuhan, in China, and that the world invasion began from there. Well, I assume it is obvious what would be the inevitable though