last few weeks I have nothing to tell .. I would have much to tell the truth, but I can not express in simple words to describe my thoughts complex. I knew the wickedness of people, menschinità of who should be a manager and instead is only a "corruptor simple" (the quotation is of great Guzzanti), a small small small man trying to hide their ignorance behind a finger .. I'm waiting to prove myself to be different, a recognized authority could mature from the bottom, a legitimate power because of the work of friendly people and pointed straight towards a distributed and shared progress. I seek a lit-inspired capitalism Olivetti, which is based on a deep knowledge of things, sharing experience, the sense of belonging to a project, the kindness, cooperation. I say enlightened capitalism to socialism and I think philosophically (not the real one, which only had the real idea of \u200b\u200bhigh treason, the highest that man has ever made), I think democracy, self-determination, civic duty, the community of men who cry freedom from preventive wars, freedom from the well-being of banks failed, freedom from the exploiters of all time, oozing the blood of those who work the land with their hands that no longer gives any fruit, barren terrain sophisticated by the interests of those who do not know the beauty of a sunset equatorial. Bell'osservatorio indeed Africa, will confirm in subversive ideas that cry out that another world is possible.
I think that, perhaps drifting, and it makes me incredibly homesick for my sweet and beloved Julia, who lives among the tall buildings of glass there in Frankfurt, in the heart of old Europe, the cultural center of our little western world, where perhaps decide the fate of those who now lives among African toqul, dirty and without running water, with the complicity of corrupt and wasteful government. But I think also to my dear friend Luana, returning from a dream in Mexico, which is experiencing the poetry of confrontation between cultures, and I imagine the Allende wrapped in a while along the gloomy corridors of the Roman law .. And I think even with no Peter, immigrant like me the third millennium in a land of rain and sea, as I suppose .. Graziana, sweet look of Salento, which is myself. Emphasizes the distance many things, and often fills my eyes with tears .. like the commissioner of Saramago, who cries a life wasted chasing monsters invented. Holy
I think that, perhaps drifting, and it makes me incredibly homesick for my sweet and beloved Julia, who lives among the tall buildings of glass there in Frankfurt, in the heart of old Europe, the cultural center of our little western world, where perhaps decide the fate of those who now lives among African toqul, dirty and without running water, with the complicity of corrupt and wasteful government. But I think also to my dear friend Luana, returning from a dream in Mexico, which is experiencing the poetry of confrontation between cultures, and I imagine the Allende wrapped in a while along the gloomy corridors of the Roman law .. And I think even with no Peter, immigrant like me the third millennium in a land of rain and sea, as I suppose .. Graziana, sweet look of Salento, which is myself. Emphasizes the distance many things, and often fills my eyes with tears .. like the commissioner of Saramago, who cries a life wasted chasing monsters invented. Holy
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