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Showing posts from October, 2015

German killer of refugee boy: the stealer of future

Stories and News No. 806 Germany, the man who had kidnapped Mohamed , the four years old Bosnian child refugee, has confessed. He killed also Elias , a six years old boy, who died in July in the city of Potsdam . My name is Mohamed and I am four years old. This is my future . The coming dawn, regardless. And the following sunset, in spite of anything. That is reminiscent of my past . There, where everything is still possible. Drawing the path leading to the top. The name of the peak does not matter. Which piece of world it overhangs does not too. What really counts is that once standing, with flag waving in hand taking a breath and satisfaction, I will not be alone. The days behind are a few, if you look at them from above. Anything but sparkling with joy and lightness. But it was a start. Somewhere we have to start. Leave. All the scenery at the shot of the starter does not count. If you are sure to have no chance to finish first does not matter. What is worth the

Gender equality stories: the perfect school

Stories and News No. 805 Once upon a time there was the perfect school. It was perfect because had banished once and for all any trace of “gender confusion”. In the perfect school there was the perfect principal. So, in the perfect school with the perfect principal - no room for modesty, they had decided to hire him, the perfect teacher. That is, this was his dream, and after a heated succession of talks he was chosen among many. Eager to be such. Perfect. After receiving a formal good luck by the perfect principal, the perfect teacher came into the perfect class of the perfect school. The perfect class, at first glance, appeared to be as many more. The desks, the little chairs, the blackboard and the teaching post. And then they were there. The fragile incomplete creatures, but grown and well selected to be perfect. "Teacher," a girl child said after the man had just finished to present himself. "Can you tell us a story?" "Gladly," he said

Stories about life: the most important before

Stories and News No. 804 In the US, while his father slept in his own bed, a two years old child died after accidentally shot himself with the dad’s gun. This story is for him , for it . And especially for you ... Once upon a time there was a “before”. The first and more important one. There is always. There was, alas. Before you pulled the trigger ? Yes, maybe. Thanks to a simple thought, in the form of the memory of a precious admonition. Do not touch, do not touch it. It . Is this the most important? No, let’s try, be brave, don’t be satisfied. Before opening Dad’s drawer ? Perhaps, it could be. The above thought, but also a blessed distraction. A melody behind, a more interesting game or just getting back. Exactly what you were doing. Before . It is flawless, clear, smooth as the slide at the park. Among all, is this the most important? It does not seem, let's move on. Before entering your parents room ? That is, before you know that it is there , in the

Story about Gun Control

Stories and News No. 803 As the rest of the world, also in Italy there are political parties that promote guns vs migrants, just looking for support from weapons manufacturing companies… Once upon a time there was a land. A land like many, but only one too. You know what I mean. The land as many, but only one too, you know what I mean, was said the reign of sun . Because there was always the sun? No, since even lefties platypuses know that there is no place where there is always sun, except the sun itself. And if even lefties platypus know that, indescribably dumb animals, well, you draw your own conclusions. The land as many, but only one too, etcetera, was said the reign of sun because there was a sun, that's all. In the sky, at least once a day, not every day. Often. Then the night came and all started to doubt the light. As if the sun really died at sunset, instead of playing hide and seek with the moon. Nevertheless, in the reign of sun people was more likel

Mistaken killed in Israel

Stories and News No. 802 In Jerusalem, somewhere, where the Story is told. From above. Very high. Where things of the world must necessarily be small. And confused. "A man was killed", the voice that saw says. "What man?" the voice that writes asks. "A Palestinian ," the other voice replies. "A Palestinian was killed," the second voice repeats. "A Palestinian was..." the voice that will share is about to announce before being interrupted. "Hold on," the voice that saw says, "he is an Eritrean ." "What do I write, then?" the second voice inquires. "What do I spread, then?" the third voice asks. " Eritrean killed by mistake ," the first voice replies. "Eritrean killed by mistake", the second voice repeats. "An Eritrean has been killed by mistake", the voice that will share echoes. "Another man was killed," the voice that saw says late

Man killed by landlord to prevent theft: one of us

Stories and News No. 801 In according to a recent update , the investigation contradicts what told by a retiree landlord who murdered in Italy a young man with a shot straight to the heart. Not in the bedroom , as the murderer stated, but when the victim was on the stairs outside the apartment. So the thief died even before committing break-in, theft and so on, even before being definable a thief . Nevertheless, many citizens of killer’s town, in the province of Milan, marched under his balcony screaming together: you are one of us … Once upon a time there was a game. No, it is a movie. Indeed, sorry, it is a dance. Pardon the mess, really, that is not my fault. The story is chaotic. As a road that leads everywhere, bounded with dangerous approximation. Where those who have good glasses are traveling in the middle. And all the others just breathe. Until falling down. Outside the envied edges of the way. Of life . But we, who are we , in the fuss of lives that contradic

Proof aliens exist in space of the red dwarf

Stories and News No. 800 I'm not a star and I never desired that. Despite sometimes I give bursts of light too. I'm an alien. I know well and when I forget, there is always someone around the corner. Ready to make me remember. I care about it. I care about to say it. The whole universe bless the red dwarfs . I mean the stars, of course. Even if I do not slight at all the modest height and red hair ladies. I care about it. I care about to say that too. However, it is for one of those giant stars that I am here today, to affect the white of the page. Anyway, you might call her dwarf, but we are ever talking about a star, not a nobodies asteroid, full of self-importance. I care about it. I care about to recall that everything is relative, even for the dwarfs. Because there is always someone dwarfer than you, once the quark told the atom . Nevertheless, I forgot the fundamentals: the essential clarifying introduction. The red dwarf is the star which today new

The migrants and the polar bear: the true story

Stories and News No. 799 After decided to cross the Eurotunnel and reach the UK, four men climbed onto a truck in Calais, France, and found a polar bear in a cage. One of them escaped, while the three remaining were then arrested. The animal, named Nissan, arrived later at its destination, a Yorkshire park, to join two other bears, Victor and Pixel. This is the story that Nissan told them… Once upon a time there were three migrants. The three migrants were actually four. In fact, to be honest, I have no idea if they were migrants . Or in any other way humans love calling each other. Distinguishing. At worst, estranging. Four of them have got on board. And only three are left. Too bad, I thought. Who knows what the fourth could have said. Well, as you know, we bulky souls, who travel from pole to pole of the planet only reluctantly, we are always there with our mind. On the empty chair in the classroom and the blank place in the crowd. On the lacking horizon. Any

Diversity stories: marriages and adoptions

Stories and News No. 798 Once upon a time there were two friends. Indeed, it begins so: there are two friends . But it is not a joke. One of them meets the other, who is reading the newspaper. "What are you doing?" "I read." "What are you reading?" "The news on the discussion about same-sex marriages ..." "I see, gay adoptions ." "No, not at all, I said same-sex marriages , you know? Those forms of cohabitation between two people of the same... " "Yes, I understand, you're talking about gay adoptions ." "It’s not true, when you hear that? I said same-sex marriages, forms of cohabitation linked by bonds of affection..." "Yes, of course, gay adoptions." "I did not say gay adoptions," the man screams. "I repeat, I said - by spelling – same-sex marriages ..." "Of course, gay adoptions ." "Are you deaf or what?" His friend almost yells, victi

Diversity stories: the child and the assistant

Stories and News No. 797 Well, take a look. Take a look for a moment. Take a look for a moment and think if today an eleven fifth grade should explain world things to you. Listen, are you awake or not? When you decide to tell a story, you should be prepared at least. Well, look... Take a look at this news: Rubbles fall in the classroom: "two" - I repeat - "two" children and a teacher injured in the province of Agrigento . One of them is disabled , this is what the article says. Meanwhile, here you violate the first consideration for a storyteller who claims to deserve the vast audiences. Well, take a look. The title is important, dear sir or lady who, using ink and imagination, throw your vision into the web. However, incomplete one, since I am the person who have got the true vision. So, let’s take a look. To me. Yes, because I am the only child that was hurt. How someone specifies further. Well, take a look. Just take a look at: Rubbles in sch

If the mayor of Rome was a good person?

Stories and News No. 796 Once upon a time there was a town. Look, let’s avoid controversy. Another city, not the Italian capital. On the antipodes of the universe, where you want, just that you cannot bring up anything. To transform it in the usual and stale string of confused semantic twists linked with delusional syntax. In short, cackling. Let’s imagine that this city is like many. Inhabited by ordinary people. To define ordinary you may refer to what you encounter every day on the road, prisoner of traffic, lined up in a row of any kind, surrounded by any screaming grouping, from the condominium meeting to the union assembly. Imagine that, despite the above ordinary human material involved, for a mere coincidence of chances a good person was elected mayor. As if that were to happen by mistake. Listen, stop the rumbling emotional eruptions. I mean another one, not the actual one. A person beyond the boundaries of your imagination, anywhere as long as you avoid getting

Gay priest Krzysztof Charamsa: the future coming out

Stories and News No. 795 Commenting on the debated revelation by Monsignor Charamsa on his sexual orientation, the Pulitzer Prize-winning writer Michael Cunningham argues that " the Church should apologize to the world ." How many more excuses will be asked, and not only from the church. Until we will hear yet another special kind of “coming out”… I confess. I am not better than the others. Not better than myself and all the fake representations, well-formed or approximately cobbled together because of the rush, that I have sold, given, lent, imposed to you. At worst, left behind as crumbs to casually pick up. I have got a lot of vices, let this be known right away, where you intend to go beyond the reassuring line of mere knowledge. I do not think about sins as many as I make them. And I never make them as many as I will think about them during the following instant. Now. Even now it is happening. Because that’s how it works - I will never be tired of repe

Moral stories: the forest of the seven

Stories and News No. 794 Killer of Christians . According to many newspapers that is becoming the main fragment of the news title to spread yet another massacre in the United States. Needless to imagine what it would have been, if somebody were able to bring up the Islam. Nevertheless the recurring theme , the lethal greatest common denominator, is always present at the crime scene and every time it comes home undisturbed. The alleged lawful possession of a weapon ... Once upon a time there was a forest. It was called the forest of the seven. Because seven men lived in the woods. Not one less, not one more. In the forest where seven men lived, not one less, not one more, running was the only activity. There was no other hobby. There were no soccer, rugby and basket balls. Even no tennis racquets, which might have been useless. Because there were no balls to hit. The only things they used to throw out were themselves, at various speeds, but there was none able to defin

Right Livelihood Award 2015 Gino Strada Nobel in the alternative world

Stories and News No. 793 On 30 November 2015, in Stockholm, for the first time an Italian will be awarded with the Right Livelihood Award , known as the Alternative Nobel Prize , recognition designed to "honor and support those offering practical and exemplary answers to the major challenges of our time". I am talking about Gino Strada , founder of Emergency . This and many other things happen in the alternative world... There is a world, somewhere. Somewhere that is here, but never quite here . That is its fault, probably. Born light and rarefied and equally grown over time. Or maybe the looks of the most are not accustomed to the lightness or expansion of creation . Of course, that is not god’s work. The alternative world should be created by us. Where us is here, somewhere. But never sufficiently here. And that is certainly our fault. Born lighter and rarefied, we equally went ahead. Or maybe the others stayed behind. In the alternate world, somebody giv