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And if happiness suddenly ended? If the calm apparent, reassuring, peaceful, makes you feel good about yourself and others suddenly with a thunderous shot tear into a thousand pieces and more? Perhaps
basically thought you lived in peace and serenity, and perhaps you believe that your happiness was arrampiacata on a high tree, wrapping the trunk very fast, crawling and climbing to the top, tapping unexplored peaks, spikes never touched so high that the fear of emptiness underlying literally make you shudder. Maybe so, or maybe you just wanted to believe it.
The truth is that it suits the situation remains in this rewarding and crystallized form, which does not undergo no further changes, which agents outside can not touch it in any way. Why are you afraid of, that's why! If the swirl of feelings and opposing forces and antithetical to cling inside you like an endless spiral was afloat in a world that certainly has nothing to do with the swirl your stupid, you may no longer be recognized, no longer to be loved. Transparency is not something to brag about, it is better to be a misted glass, a thick blanket of water vapor, which can not be made immediately visible what lies behind. Only the eyes can be an indicator of this truth of these secrets locked away. The eyes know, see, think, laugh, cry.
why I keep in a glass di vetro ogni lacrima, per poter poi enumerare tutte le mie verità.

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The thrill of the moment

Ieri pensavo, come al solito, pensavo....Pensavo a quanta bellezza c'è nella vita!Davvero andiamo quasi sempre troppo di fretta e non ce ne accorgiamo....oppure vogliamo dare subito delle etichette alle cose che ci spaventano, e nel frattempo ci perdiamo la bellezza di ciò che ci circonda.
La bellezza della paura nell'avvicinare la persona amata, di capire le controvorsie della gente che ci sta intorno, la bellezza di un corteggiamento goffo e appassionato allo stesso tempo, la bellezza di sguardi complici e pensanti la medesima cosa, la bellezza di una risata a bocca spalancata, in cui il tempo si ferma, gli occhi scintillano, le grida rarefanno is in the air.
The beauty of a real and important argument, which would not want to affect the balance of crystal, but with one glance you can go to pieces, the beauty of the tremor before an exam, the beauty of the thrill of the first kiss, as with eyes half-open waiting, almost a reassuring look on the other hand, the beauty of touching for the first time, to be wrapped in each other's bodies, hear the sighs, the mouth on his chest, his lips swollen with emotion, the beauty of being rejected and to be able ricoinquistare, the beauty of a fireplace, a drop of rain, a warm breeze, the intense fragrance of a flower, a peaceful embrace, a handshake sweating; la bellezza dell'impaccio nel dimenarsi per cose nuove, di cantare a squarciagola, di sognare sotto un albero o dal finestrino di un treno puzzolente. La bellezza delle indecisioni eterne e delle scelte fatte in modo approssimativo.
La bellezza di vivere intensamente senza tralasciare nulla per strada.

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I, you, he, I, I, I .....

Non riesco a togliermi dalla testa questa teoria della confederazione delle anime, di derivazione francese. Questi medici-filosofi che l’hanno elaborata credevano appunto nella presenza non di una sola anima ma di una confederazione, guidata a turno da un Io egemone, più forte, più dirompente, che riuscisse a prendere il sopravvento sugli altri. Tanti Io, tante anime, a volte più forti da prevalere, altre times weaker than to succumb. Speech that perhaps can not appeal to a Catholic believer, because they (we) believe in the presence of a single soul, sometimes called conscience would dictate her actions and behaviors. Approaching to this theory of confederation could be accused of heresy, but perhaps the problem vanishes when we substitute the term to the term soul personality, how they want the doctor-French philosophers. Each of us, you know, has different personalities, it is doubled or tripled or more. But then it will revert to the problem of not being themselves, mask wearer, or maybe you just accept the impossibility of a being one and only, ma per forza modellabile e malleabile a contatto con cose o persone differenti. Mah …. Forse non siamo così intelligenti come crediamo (noi uomini, intendo!); forse siamo esseri molto più deboli rispetto al mito dell’uomo che ci siamo forgiati negli anni. Se siamo così malleabili, plasmabili, duttili, forse poi non siamo così diversi dagli altri animali.
Mi sovvengono delle reminiscenze di un esame di filosofia della mente che feci qualche anno fa, in cui si trattava l’argomento del dualismo mente-corpo (perché in effetti non possiamo dire con sicurezza che sia l’anima a darci impulsi per i nostri comportamenti e le nostre azioni, e non il cervello, la mente. Alcune popolazioni africane, mi pare, even when they say "I think ..." or "I do not remember ..." do not touch the head as we in the West, but the area of \u200b\u200bthe stomach / liver, because they consider the essence of thinking / who command is located just there!) . The philosopher and scholar Ryle argued precisely the impossibility of this mind-body dualism contained in a single entity for him and thinking the same agent at the same time. But those are other stories, to which one can not believe how ... and live the same. Maybe even better. I am sure of one thing that people meet and the situations that they live, so essential, mark us, change us, mold us, make us become other people, if not completely different but certainly corroborated by another I, another nuance of personality, that was totally unknown. He was right back to Pirandello, and I will continue to do so, I say that surely we can all be one, none and a hundred thousand at a time. And I focus primarily on one hundred thousand.