Thursday, March 31, 2016

Safest airport in the world is here

Stories and News No. 859

There is much talk these trembling days about what is the airport with best security in the world.
I would have the answer...

Once upon a time there was the safest airport in the world.
Because nowadays flying is a risk.
Well... flying is always a risk, you now. We are not birds, the rest of us.
Indeed flying is also a risk for birds, if we are honest.
I remember a seagull that dropped to drink some salt water, the breakfast of champions, they say, and in return the animal found an oil blanket, if you know what I mean.
Okay, the accident did not happen exactly flying, but mooring.
Well, this is precisely the point: the risk is when you risk, risking yourself, but facing the involved risks, risking in worlds not related to you.
Flight to the birds, it is indeed the screaming slogans of an intolerant flock of nationalists pheasants, annoyed by our loud and arrogant aircrafts. These people behave as if the sky was their stuff, they add. They are not like us, they do not worship our sun and they do not lay eggs. They eat it, such savages.
But I am digressing, sorry.
We are human and we do as we please, as the prophecy says, like the little voice inside murmurs, as we say in all languages and cultures, check if you want. Except those we consider uncivilized, backward and underdeveloped, check this too, if you have time.
Then, we fly.
Well... this is also inaccurate. We will get our ass on the seat, tightening our belt and making fingers crossed, that's all.
What really flies is the pilot, the squashed flies on the glass and some poor migrant hidden in the cart.
Because that is also the point: who really fly are only those who have wings in their hands. The others are just spectators of the miracle. They take the credit, needing to boast and nothing more.
Nevertheless, there is a ticket, you pay, in fact. And when there is someone who pays we tell you what you want. You just need to pay.
Dear customer, here is the safest airport in the world.
Only one runway, only one airplane, a single seat.
Or, in the case, a few more, but only incredibly similar to you people.
First class, feel good, we do everything for you.
And it is all free, can you realize that?
It safe here, do not fear.
When it is time to go, you go.
Choose the destination you wish to find at the end of the trip.
When you will arrive you'll find everything you've always wanted.
And you will miss it to death when you will not have it anymore.
The trip will be nice and trust me, no one has ever complained, so far.
Be still, close your eyes and especially dream.
Come at the safest airport in the world.
And good trip...


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Wednesday, March 30, 2016

We need to defend us

Stories and News No. 858

Once upon a time there was the caveman.
But not the caveman in a general sense. Simplifications for private use are enough around.
I mean just one caveman.
In fact, let’s give the exact measurements of the story.
One man with one cave.
He had done a fine dwelling with river view, not too hot in summer nor too cold in winter.
One fine morning, so to speak, the man in the cave awoke to go out, when another man appeared before him.
He was the man of the mountains.
But not a representative and spokesman self-elected leader of all men of the mountains on the earth. The braggarts with a hungry for flash face and an easy megaphone are already in abundance.
I refer to just one man of the mountains.
This time not one mountain, but many, because our primordial guy was an elemental hominid, but that does not mean he was stupid.
As the first theorem of silliness says, the fool is a sick person who does not heal closed in the cave, but coming out of it.
"Where are you going in such a hurry?" Asked the newcomer.
"I go out."
"Out?"
"Yes."
"Without club?"
"What?" Inquired the caveman, because the club had not been invented yet.
"Don’t tell me you don’t have a club..."
"I do not."
"You’re lucky, since I have here with me a complete sample."
The man of the mountains moved to the side for a moment and dragged at the caveman's feet a cluster of clubs of every shape and length.
"Oh..." Said the caveman. "I understand, now, but I already have the toothpick, even if yours are too big. Big teeth, uh?"
"These are not toothpicks, idiot. These are clubs, you need it to defend yourself."
"Defend myself?"
"Yes, defend yourself."
"From who?"
"Who? From everything."
"For example?"
"The mammoths."
"Mammoths don’t attack humans. We do."
"Tyrannosaurs, then."
"They are extinct."
"Velociraptors?"
"Extinct too."
"Mosquitos."
"I prefer to use my hands, I do it faster. Once I go to take this club of yours and return to the mosquito, it's flown away since a while. "
"What about the snakes?"
"I give them a nice ram. I have large feet, if you know what I mean."
"What about the migrants?"
"We are all migrants here, the beasts too. And you know it. "
"But you have to defend yourself from bad people..."
"We are all a little bad, here, except for the beasts. And you should know this too."
The man of the mountains was exasperated and a little frustrated. He was shrewd, but he had run in the second theorem of silliness: sooner or later, the astute find someone less stupid than he looks like.
"In short," yelled the man of the mountains in a crisis of nerves. "You're a naive and deluded person, a feel-good living fairy tales for bedtime. You do not have a backbone, you're devoid of pride and you don’t have the force to live difficult times like ours. You don’t know what suffering means..."
"That's enough," interrupted the caveman. "You've convinced me, give me a club."
"In exchange for that I want the use of the river out here and the ..."
"What you want, I sign. Give me the club."
"Please," said the man of the mountains, "you may choose the one you prefer."
The man of the cave took from the pile the largest and, while he clutched the handle with growing strength, he thought back to the last words of the man of the mountains. And at the same time he remembered of his wife and son who died of an ordinary flu only a month ago.
"You're right," he said, taking aim. "I need to defend myself."
So he gave the other a mighty blow on the backside.
I think that from that day the man of the mountains is no longer dropped from the peaks of one of them.
Not the man of the mountains in the sense of all, as I already said, only that man of the mountains.
Because we see so many still arriving at the entrance of our cave...

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Friday, March 18, 2016

World Sleep Day 2016 story: Amir’s dream

Stories and News No. 857

Today is the World Sleep Day...

I have a sleep.
Yes, I might start as well as the speech of the famous giver of visions, who left the stage too soon and with great noise, like the greatest of the past.
Visions, or dreams, no sleep.
Well, I do not aspire to that. To rest with a blank screen is enough for me.
Just that, by the way.
To rest.
My name is Amir and I am tired of dying. When does life begin? Can you tell me more? Because, here, we do not know anything. We are first lower pages of equally negligible books, strictly relegated to forgotten shelves.
There, where the unlabeled stories of the world live. Those that have no moral, otherwise I dare you to inform the protagonists that all that suffering has a kind of meaning.
They have only told me go ahead, you start, it is your turn.
So I went on stage, like everyone else.
And you know what? If I had known that all this would have happened, I would have remade the same steps.
I know that for many of you it is difficult to understand. If not, the gap between us would be the least of the problems.
The fact is that we do not look at the moon. Not even the tiniest bit of luck precipitating for once on the right side of the world.
Of course, if that were to happen we all would run on the light that miraculously changes destination.
But trust me on my word, victory is not an obsession for me.
Because I have a sleep.
I have a dissatisfied sleep that was born with me, not long ago.
It is where I am going.
Your country is just a window to cross quickly and possibly without too many injuries as a gift.
The promised land, the perfect day, are the place and the moment when I will stop.
Because the body will trust the new world.
The breathing will slow down just enough to reassure the heart.
The latter will find the best location in the chest and limbs will recline on the friendly ground.
So it will be up to them to close the curtain, the eyes.
They will mourn, probably.
The lips will smile, this is a lot, not a little, and it is more than sure.
And as two soft blankets, my eyelids finally will give the right away to my soul.
I will sleep peacefully, there.
And maybe.
I will also hope.
To be, after all that I have faced.
Still alive…

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Thursday, March 17, 2016

Terrorist alert: who benefits?

Stories and News No. 856

Here we go again.
Punctually on the eve of elections of any kind and scale, meetings at more or less institutional Summits, and laws’ discussions with multiple interests, the terrorism alerts are everywhere in the news.
Alerts, or hazard notices. Warning, beware, be afraid, and so on. Regardless of the actual merits of the danger itself.
So, here is my story…

Listen to this: pacifist alert.
Today is a special day, since the very beginning.
We may read on the top of each newspaper and TV news in the world always the same content.
Governments warn the population and the various authorities to keep vigilant. The danger level is high. We expect pacifist attacks.
Specifically, four barricaded female troublemakers were arrested in Paris in a fair trade shop where they dared sell healthy stuff inevitably from underdeveloped countries. It seems that the criminal intent of the girls was to support the inhabitants’ life of the still doomed economy.
In London, police raided an elementary school where a theater company was acting a tacky play on stage. It seems that the script represented incited young viewers to prefer alternative choices instead of the sacrosanct military intervention.
In Rome investigators have broken up a formidable illegal cell, a publishing house who secretly was printing material scabrous praising the respect for human rights.
In the center of New York a policeman was attacked by the words of a retired lady while he was rightly shooting the seventh bang at an African American guy who dared to forget to indicate the turning on the left. For the record, the woman would have exclaimed: "Stop it, don’t you see he is already dead?"
In a Berlin street a girl child was stopped, removed from the parents, and delivered to social services on the spot. The little girl was caught by a policeman in the shameful attempt to prevent his dog from being hit by the car of a productive citizen who was late for work, but not his fault. The guilty are the usual bunch of idlers cycling with ecology excuses.
In many African and Asian countries there would be more just as shocking news. Anyway nobody pay really attention to what happens there.
For better or for worse.
Moreover, in these hours some videos have become viral. We recommend viewing only to blind and deaf audiences. Which means: nobody should watch it.
In particular, there are two persons of adverse groups who disgracefully attempt to embrace, a handful of freaks who dare unbalance the natural course of things coming out into the sea in order to get in the middle between the migrants and the right to wreck and even two lovers - who we decided should not even dream of it, starting to kiss.
Gosh!
So that's all.
...
What do you say?
I will never get on the front pages of newspapers around the world with such a story?
Maybe you are right.
With terror alerts is much more easy...

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Wednesday, March 16, 2016

Stop sea oil drilling in Italy story

Stories and News No. 855

Dig.
Yes, continue to dig.
I know that you will not stop, since you do not want it.
Believe me, I understand. I know every excuse.
How did you use to say? The voices just told me to do it, I have to because it is written so. You feel obligated, it is a matter of already made commitments, those are inescapable deadlines.
All stuff that binds you, that steals you all degrees of freedom.
Trust me, I see this.
I have compassion, inside my hate.
Because I know your character and the script is just as obvious.
I would not expect anything else from you, since the very first day of school.
You were the one who smiled when it was required immobility to the lips as the eyes, the heart as the breath in your lungs.
You were the one who left the room when it got in.
The unwieldy story among the most devious ones created by the feared narrators of this land. Because otherwise you would have fallen in love with it and you would have been able to do everything for it.
However no one could serve two masters, right?
And it is useless to strive convincing you that the one and only side of the moon that has something alive wants everything from you, except your freedom.
So do not hesitate and go on.
Dig.
You have done anything else since the beginning of the movie.
You have only one scene and one line, a blank one, except for the noise.
Shattering mud in your hands, hitting water, never breakable, with the weight of your insatiable thirst.
But, the worst thing is the life crumbling in your jaws. As if it were an appetizer before the actual meal. What you wish, that they have sworn to you at the faded rainbow's end.
Go ahead, do not stop.
Make use of all the knowledge acquired over time and do not waste greasepaint and masks.
I know who you are.
And I know who is behind you.
Arise all, because I see you all.
By now, it would be impossible otherwise.
Dig bravely, although there is granted by the dignity that you have saved there.
Do it as you always have.
And kill me once and for all.
Unless someone else, perhaps among our readers.
Who decide to stand between you.
And me...


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Friday, March 11, 2016

Fukushima disaster 5 years on: Look

Stories and News No. 854

Look.
Look, they always come, since they are punctual.
They try with earnestly and regularity that smile as a machine. Anything but bare hands and breath.
Look and then tell me if I am wrong.
They have all the ready answers, except for the questions that they did not yet heard, at the sunlight. The treasure they have not got until now.
But give them time and even there they will disembark, with their smart lawyers, legalized loan sharks and all those kind of technicians with the offering signatures.
That’s why you must look behind and remember.

Remember they are always there, they never go away and wait.
They patiently wait for the right moment, the right one to open the bag and lubricate other people's consciences.
It takes just as much, of patience.
It takes more, of strength.
But just a little of awareness, because deception is immense.
Well, the remaining time is not.
They know it perfectly, since they are quick to erase everything and rewrite what they have already tricked several times.
Because they know what to tell and it is a simple language, that a child would not understand, all right, but here the young lives count for little, I hope it is clear.
That’s why you must look around and forget.

Instantly forget their lies, because that is wasted space in memory.
Since the memory is serious stuff, like a home where there is still room to accomodate. You have the choice between real possibilities and ridiculous illusions.
They are good in this, they know how to do, they are prepared and successful, because they sell the same merchandise since the beginning of time: the shortest route between here and now, in exchange for the better of before and after.
So you have to get to know them as much as they know you.
Because the stakes are too great.
And among all the reasons to defend it there will always be one.
If you do not, who will take your place?

So, look, my friends.
Look before you.
That future will depend on what you chose.
Yesterday…

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Thursday, March 10, 2016

When human kills human

Stories and News No. 853

"Are you new?" Asked the senior colleague.
"Yes," replied the newcomer in the newsroom. "I'm the new titlist."
"Sector?"
"Chronicle."
"Oh, it's easy."
"Really?"
"Sure. Look, I'll help you, then I'll leave you a note. All you have to do is follow the rule of if... then the news is. "
"If then what?"
"There's a break, kid."
"Already? Wonderful, I needed a coffee!"
"No, idiot. I meant the ellipsis between if and then... "
"Sorry. "
"No problem, since you’re new. That’s simple. First of all, here we sell death, right?"
"As the funeral?"
"No, it sells coffins. I mean as the killers."
"I don't understand…"
"Are you sure you have been hired here? Listen, even a child may understand the if... then the news is. Someone killed one or more persons, all right? "
"All right?"
"It's an example, idiot. Even if it were so, it is clear that it's all right. That is great, if you want to know, otherwise why are you here?"
"Yes, I'm sorry. Continue. "
"I was saying… somebody killed someone or even more than one. If the killer is a Muslim then the news is terrorism. "
"Excuse me, but what happens if that was not because of terrorism?"
"What do you care? You write just the opening titles. "
"Okay. Please, go on. "
"If the murderer is a foreigner* then the news is immigration, better if the illegal one."
"Simple."
"Wait, there's an asterisk."
"Where?"
"On foreigner. Remember that all the richest European countries, in addition to Oceania, Japan and obviously Canada are strictly excluded."
"What about the Vatican?"
"Seriously?"
"Sorry, go ahead."
"If the villain is homosexual or other category that characterizes his loving / reproductive orientation then the news is the gender theory."
"What is it?"
"No one knows, but you put it on."
"I understand, gender theory. Then?"
"If the aggressor is male and the victim is female, then the news is violence against women, but only when we are close to 8 March."
"It has gone."
"Then see if there is any other occurrence on the equal opportunities and all this nonsense, then write it on."
"Clear. Then?"
"Then, if the assassin is a relative then the news is the moral drift of the modern family."
"That's a good one."
"True, it sells a lot."
"Then?"
"If the slaughterer is a policeman or a soldier then the news is nowhere."
"And where is it?"
"What?"
"Ah… I see."
"Good. Let’s come to the massacres. "
"Oh my God…"
"Don’t worry. In this case you must apply the variant if... then the news is... otherwise. For example, if the perpetrators are Muslims or foreigners with an asterisk then... you apply the precedent rules. Otherwise the news is madness."
"What do you mean?"
"Simple. It was just a crazy act, a sudden frenzy behavior. Normal insanity, in a few words. But there is an exception. "
"Which one?"
"If the slayer was high then the news is drugs, and in this case take your time to also tackle free weed."
"Alcohol too?"
"Seriously yet?"
"Now, yes, but not before, I swear."
"Don't swear."
"Agree. Thank you very much, one last thing. "
"What?"
"Before you said that we are like killers. We do not hurt anyone..."
"Seriously?"

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Wednesday, March 9, 2016

Migrants between Europe and Turkey: the playing cards

Stories and News No. 852

“EU and Turkish leaders have today sunk to a new low, effectively horse trading away the rights and dignity of some of the world’s most vulnerable people. The idea of bartering refugees for refugees is not only dangerously dehumanizing, but also offers no sustainable long term solution to the ongoing humanitarian crisis,” said Iverna McGowan, Head of Amnesty International’s European Institutions Office.

Imagine a table.
A round table, like the one of the knights with a honest and fearless king.
Let it be told.
Let it be told and remembered that they are brave and righteous, until proven otherwise.
Now, let’s release some fantasy. Namely, let the gallop be heard. To remember that on this page, there will be always room for those who did not come in the photo on the desk at the entrance, the one that everyone looks.
Like steeds who have struggled, suffered and often destroyed back and hooves for others' glory, as the horses of Zorro and D'Artagnan, Robin Hood and Lone Ranger. No one will remember those lives, when all the dust will end to fall.
So, you may cover the round table of knights and intrepid king with a nice green cloth.
Yes, that one.
Now imagine the participants all sat around with their back on a soft place and some tiny souls in the hands.
I suppose it is clear that I am just talking about playing cards, very special ones, indeed.
"If you give me four Afghans I offer you sixteen Somalis," says one.
"Come up to seven and we have a deal," replies another.
"Twenty Eritreans for eighteen of your Libyans," says one.
"I'm sorry," replies the other, "but I've already promised them."
"And what they give you in return?"
"Twelve Chinese."
"We said ten..." corrects the concerned person.
"Now twelve", stands the other. "Otherwise I'll take the Eritreans."
"Too late," exclaims the previous proposer. "I've just sold them for seven Bangladeshis."
"Whose turn is it to take?" suddenly asks one of the players.
"Me," responds another and raises the top card on the deck.
"Victory!" Cries discovering the card.
"Wow, what luck you had," says one of the many wide-eyed. "He found the Syrian…"
"Who gives more?" asks the favored contestant.
And the proposals parade blares.
No way out, however.
The participant with the magic card resists to any attack and the game freezes.
Boredom takes over on the initial disappointment and the players, who have no intention to remain at odds, they find a way to continue.
So they bring along all the cards and build a beautiful castle.
Large, impressive, but fragile.
Incredibly fragile.
Like all the stories which life is at stake in.
That is, where life - others’ life, is a game.
In fact, a breath of wind reached the table.
You need only a card to fall.
No matter what.
And everything collapses.
However, as if nothing had happened, they rearrange the table.
And they start again.
To make always.
The same damn.
Game

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Friday, March 4, 2016

Stories about life: Berta Cáceres is alive

Stories and News No. 851

Berta Caceres, the activist who fought for the rights of indigenous peoples in Honduras and the defense of the environment, was murdered.
In 2015 she was awarded with the Goldman Environmental Prize.

Berta Cáceres is alive.
Nothing but rumors and lies.
Actually, no.
Only lies.
The woman who binds words a fate to words and fate that earth itself writes and draws cannot die.
Until there is earth and those who bind words and fate.
To earth.

Berta Cáceres is not dead.
She is here, no jokes.
Actually, no.
There is nothing to joke about.
The lady with big eyes and the proud face, which filled the former of crushed rights and puffed the latter up meeting the few truths of this world, cannot leave because you decided so.
As long as there are willing souls at her side.
With big eyes and proud face.

Berta Cáceres has not gone.
Look around.
Look inside you.
Actually, no, you may close your eyes and just pretend that nothing happens, if you prefer.
That will not stop the mother with the large embrace as the horizon to change with passion and strength, the only possible directions for an unrelenting march.
And until there is way to go.
The mothers will walk.

Believe, believe me.
Berta Cáceres is alive, she is not dead.
And she has not gone.
Because she is like the rivers that she has always cried and rejoiced for.
You cannot kill a river.
You might try to break its waters with all the fury of the world, punch it at its back or raise your dams of cowardice.
But you will not get more than thousand.
Thousand and again thousand.
A thousand and more thousand rivers flowing together.
Towards the sea they have dreamed of...

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Thursday, March 3, 2016

Calais Migrants sew lips together to protest: the thread that saves the world

Stories and News No. 850

I read that in order to protest against the evictions in Calais, a group of refugees sewed their lips together, exhibiting the signs with unequivocal messages.
I quote one among the others, demanding response from those who watch and read: where is our freedom?
Yes, where is it? Here it is, we just need to follow the thread...

I remember.
I try to remember how it all started.
Them. The very first I saw was them.
Mine.
I loved them. They have loved me too, maybe in their own way.
I want to believe that. I have to.
Then something broke. First an explosion, then a scream and after a suffering.
Therefore the plural killed the exception and the others came: explosions, screams and sufferings.
That was the time I began to hate them. The very first that I saw.
Mine.
So one hope has given me the strength to endure and resist.
To survive.
Believing that they were not the only ones in the world.
I wanted to believe it. I had to.
So I was saved for the first time.
Then I started to live waiting for the moment when the light of normality would have filled the gaps of my heart.
I trained strenuously to hide the wounds, fearing to hurt other people's vulnerability.
I have perfectly prepared my saying as the moving, wishing to mingle among the many.
And I did my best to draw a smile as clear as possible on the box which I buried the monsters of the past in, not to scare the fragility of my new friends.
When the time has come, when my courage had become finally adult, I opened the door and I followed dreams and hopes crumbs along the way. That is, the thread that once bound me to the homeland and reassembled inevitably led me out.
Away.
To you.
I'm here now.
Finally I arrived on the only possible shore.
So I saved myself for the second time.
Dowry I have nothing but myself and the reasons that have led me here.
Make of it what you want. Tie the thread to yours or break it in a thousand pieces. Because the day when I will find out if you and them are different or the same, I will still be free, that is saved for the third and last time.
The opportunity is all yours, now.
To tie your present to ours and save you.
With us

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Wednesday, March 2, 2016

No war in Libya 2016

Stories and News No. 849

You may read everywhere that another international coalition is going to start yet another military intervention.

No more war.

No ifs, buts and with tons of reasons.

Because we have already done and we saw how it went.
Since there is someone who claims that we have to do another…

Because we are already doing the last one, who are we kidding? We still have to finish that, how can we start another?

Because we are already doing others. And what do we do, then? We behave as usual? We pretend that we are not doing the others, showing the only one we're interested in at the moment?

Because we already know what war is.

Because right now also the children know what the stories of soldiers and bombs really are. Like the rest of us, they know that the heroes tale is a lie. That the good guys movie is a fraud. That friendly fire is just fire, a huge blaze where all burn except for those who use the flames to warm their insatiable bellies, before grilling the spoils.
Of war.

No more war because there is no need to prove how other ways work better. Because it is the only possible, which we rarely took. And just for that we're still here, you know it.

No more war because there is no need to convince you that the interests are always all on one side and the dead on the other. And if you are not in the former as the latter, how can you say yes?

No more war because one day you have said so. Or just thought. At best you felt it inside, like a natural motion. Behold, now is the time to remember what we always knew, even before the first war. Let alone after an eternity of pain and hatred.

Yes, eternity, because we know that too, perfectly.
We can only be those who start wars or not.
For many, too many, the war will never end.
For them, first of all.
Together we must say no more war…

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Tuesday, March 1, 2016

Live song video Wolves

Wolves (words and music by Alessandro Ghebreigziabiher – guitar by Roberto Moreschi)



How big is the window that doesn’t laugh at me
I want to make a trip and then
Give you to a city where is ever night
I don’t want you to come home but
To dance in a road you and I
With music that will not abandon us
Because it never betrays those who have a big heart

How big is this room that never speaks of itself
Like who does not believe that in one hour
You might split your soul and divide it with me
That I do not need anything more
Because we are like wolves that are continuing to flee
Trying to forget the herd that
Drove out us into the night
Because it was more lonely than us

 

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