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Tra nuvole ed arcobaleni

I left behind in Guatemala, starting around 5 am.
The rain accompanied us, flash memory, which bring me back the image of man riding tight in his poncho. Color of copper at first light on the mountain.
crowds of children with strips of wood on the head by the roadside. The rainbow in the mountains. Tin sheds and a lot of poverty '. Too much.
last evening and 'was in the company of a boy of 31 years, he and his family with no more' home 'cause burned in the morning. The hiring of a pick up and bring in a church, a bit 'of begging that the priests here do not deny anyone.

I feel lost, I think back to that time when I carry a 'to buy powdered milk for her son, she would not offend me gave me an idea to be looking only for money.
I'm shivering and I feel a lump rise in my throat. Come down 'is good for the soul.
Pieces of a distant world that meeting after years, I feel good and I'm sick at the same time. Too many kids who ask you to clean up the shoes, so many girls with colored bracelets that try to convince you of how you can not help it.


And look at you as if you come from a world distant. Unattainable.
Adios Guatemala, I salute andnot idea if I ever returns' here. I saw Livingstone, Garifuna those who still live there. And 'they also changed a lot' and the memories fade when comparing what there 'now with what I remember. Better to let the dream of the past. The thing that is 'now and' worse. For everyone.

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Che dire?

Gia ',
that mean?
E 'started with a sore throat that made me aware of the capacity' of a Guatemalan doctor. A prolonged visit, those who refuse to be more 'from us. The pressure measured in both arms, a prolonged auscultation, measurement of fever etc. In the end
150 quetzales (15 €) the response and care. The
antibitiotico me and 'cost 458 (€ 45), antihistamines, 100 (10). One who earns € 140 (the average of an employee) should expect to feel better, forever.
Luiss works as a security guard at the bar, with his shotgun walk through the tables for 12 hours a day for 26 days a month. Then rest for four. 18 years old.

Here life and 'hard for everything you need to do. Move, heal, survive and even die
.
place more 'hard Mixco. The more 'high concentration of crime in Guatemala, assaults on bus (11 deaths the past two weeks) Repin and murder.

I asked if they feel the crisis, I replied that for a poor makes no difference. In the Ixil triangle
I gave my contribution to memory. when you show the locations of the killings do take the name of famigie who lived there.

Zone to 2,000 meters in the Quiche '. They fought hard, and the visit 'to a sort of museum of horrors.
Now I'm here to keep them warm. Tomorrow division after losing and greeted my companion. It did not take pharyngitis, jumped a bit 'programs, patience. Next stop Chiapas.

Hasta Lueger-

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Me voy

read this when I'm somewhere close to a seat and about to fight a decisive battle with my neighbor for the conquest of the armrest.

The day started early this morning, a bus to Caselle started at 5.20. The first plane to Madrid at 8.00

I stroked his curly head of my son (a marvel of Brazil) and kissed my wife (a wonderful woman) and I started.
I leave with sadness that it could not healthy for the last time a mate that yesterday is gone forever, his name was Sergio and so we shared. Dreams, hopes, struggles, hopes and failures.

I hope this post finds you well, all without exception.

So for a few months off and "me voy". I'll be back in places where not even for far too long.

Some of you I have already said, will taste with a quiet trip. I will try to find people who have not seen for years, to remake things as usual to sit and drink cerveza from El Portal in Zone 1 of Guatemala City, the favorite spot for Che Guevara and inserted into one of the toughest neighborhoods of the city.

And then space.

That can not be told, you live it.

meetings and friendships of a day, the sadness and the happiness of those places. The life that flows around you, the Indians and the Zapatista communities. The beaches of the Pacific in El Salvador and Mexico. Places with fancy names like La Libertad, black beaches and lava of the volcanoes made by, and endless white.

The paths traveled by many that in many places in those who sacrificed their lives for their children to live a good life.

partisans, farmers, women and children died in thousands in the indifference of the world.

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I go back there and I know that I'll be fine. Better than how I am here for a while at least.
places that are not easy, indeed. Just read any newspaper there to realize it.

Well, I leave in addition to the suffering and the end for a short time? A country that does not love you anymore. A country that struggles to regain dignity, pride and strength to get rid of a network made by cliques of power, arrogant and rich men.

Sure, there are also there. Except that there are showing strength and energy that is not here. I just
riandare con la memoria a quelli che ho conosciuto, a quello che mi hanno raccontato, a quello che ho visto, di come seppellivano amici,mogli e figli continuando a lottare.E' sufficiente comparare i loro leader con le amebe di cui dobbiamo (dovete) accontentarvi da queste parti.Come procedono loro e come noi.



Bisogna toccare con lo sguardo e le mani certe cose per sapere di cosa parliamo.
E poi ci sono loro, le comunità zapatiste. Gente che ostinatamente difende uno spazio di vita, che non cede alle lusinghe di chi si presenta con valigetta di cuoio e dollari per farli arrendere e, quando non bastano quelli, li ammazza.
Con un tipo che va in giro ad alimentare un sogno. Un tipo che somiglia tanto ad un argentino. People fall in love and nothing else.

So "me voy" and the temptation is to do it again and for longer. We'll see. I do not see us here to grow old looking at the ass of some young lady to a bench, talking about revolution to lazy to "feisbuk. Continuing on to the misdeeds of the company Italiot which, after all, I do not care more shit.

How do you do? I leave a place that has as a new prophet as a type Marchionne, one that so casually pointing a revolver at the head of the faint blackmailer "or with me or I'll take away the hope of survival." How do you not rise up and take a machine gun against these people?

Lascio un posto in cui regna sovrano un settantenne ricco che ha conformato a sua immagine e somiglianza gran parte di quelli che mi sfiorano al mattino.

Non è tutto nero, sicuramente. E non è giusto mettere nel mazzo anche chi "resiste", lotta duramente tutti i giorni e lo fa mettendo a rischio se stesso. Io sto con loro, senza se e senza ma.

Ci sono però troppi "culi" flosci.Troppi "intellettuali" benpensanti e con le chiappe al caldo, garantito da una condizione sociale che li fa diversi da me e dai tanti che viaggiano sul filo del rasoio. Gente senza nerbo, presa tra una dimostrazione al sabato e lo shopping per scegliere la scarpina adatta per l'uscita serale.

Ci sarebbe da dire anche qualcosa su qualcuno di voi, di quelli che conosco (maschio o femmina non dirò), di come siete e di come vi siete rivelati in questi mesi.

Però lasciamo stare. UN ABBRACCIO.

Bene vi lascio, passatevela prendendo il meglio da ciò che passa il convento. Vi penserò.

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Io scriverò

Io scriverò se vuoi perché cerco un mondo diverso 

con stelle al neon e un poco d'universo 

mi sento un eroe a tempo perso 

io scriverò se vuoi perché non ho incontrato mai 

veri mattatori e veri ombrellai 

but only people able to ask how are you

I will write if you want to because I loved all sexes

but I can assure you that I

I never gave too much weight to my sessso

but anyone who knows I'll save that fun

live life without too enrich me save

know that love that knows God as his pockets

I write because I lived by their wits

because sometimes I have also shown their teeth ;

because I could not live otherwise

I will write about the world and its ugliness

on my public image and darkrooms

about my past and my fears

Rino Gaetano

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Quei fenomeni dei riformisti, il caso Ichino

few days ago, my cousin, during a walk, he said, "The policy has three choices in life and are simple, or you are with the conservative right and that everything you do is perpetuate a view to why do you think the differences are the engine of society, or with the reformists and then try to reform and improve the system step by step in order to improve the status of social classes that shortens the distance between them, or you're out and try to work for the revolution because the real processes of change in society comes through the traumatic breaks "

This morning I read an interview with Ichino which, by the way the story Fiat, says, "Those who say we should not change anything in the reports are conservative
I tried to combine the two arguments and place this gentleman ( preaching good but Razzola bad) and I noticed how everything has a meaning in life depends on the time and its historical setting, so I find myself right and conservative, and he left with the owners.

And so this dialectical masterpiece at the end puts people like me right in the camp of those who have fought for the preservation vita.Per Ichino is the stuff that is resistant to the dismantling of a number of rights that is resistant to the algebra of social relations synthesized by a minus sign for those not already have it in everyday life. For him too the gap of differences is the lifeblood that drives the whole (this does not say much but will not fail to discover this truth.) A professor from the air this phenomenon
seraphic vaguely resembles Himler. These people frighten me and instinctively, to be conservative, it makes me take my hand the holster. Who knows why!

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I giovani Napolitano

Napolitano from its 80-plus years says that we must invest in young people. Everyone in the queue, to say "Shit, as we were right!" All

clinging to their seats.

Now, when one has no more to say is fuck the president because in that position, represents people who have a cock to ask.

country lobotomized mostly.

Just a footbridge on TV and also a young man returns to milder revolutionary councils. Think you to give them the mission of liberating the country.

size dell'età è una variabile impazzita in questa economia. Che vuol dire oggi essere giovani? Uno di 50 anni espulso dal mercato del alvoro cosa rappresenta? Una terra di mezzo?

Investire sui giovani. Cioè? 

Perché non raccontate loro che in un sistema aziendale fortemente gerarchico lo spazio è per pochi eletti, contano le relazioni. Il resto è fuffa e la tua preparazione scolastica con tanto di master e laurea in ingegneria gestionale te la puoi appendere al pisello. Se sei maschio.

In un paese che produce tortellini e rigatoni, bottiglioni di vino e servizi per drogherie che significa investire sui giovani?

Perché non la smettete di propagandare un'idea di società che non esiste?

Il futuro è fatto dal tempo passato dietro ad un bancone a friggere patatine con la tua bella divisa addosso, oppure a battere scontrini. Magari, se c'è, in qualche fabbrica alla Marchionne.

Ma con quello non è cambia la sostanza. 

Questa è una piramide, come tutte le piramidi costruita a forza di schiavi e di illusioni. Fino a che uno non realizza.