Thursday, June 28, 2018

The fantastic language

Stories and News No. 1108

In an era when populist semantics feeds on fear and lies, there is a need for a new language, capable of nourishing hopes that have never been completely defeated.

“Mary,” said the man, seeing the sad tones in his daughter's eyes.
What's going on with you?”
“Well, tell me about nothing, then.”
She looked at the crazy parent with a tattered brain that life had given her, but he was present. And if that far from obvious eventuality was guaranteed, one can be patient even in the face of daily meaningless conversation.
“Today, during the in-class essay I remained mute. I delivered a blank sheet.”
“Why? Did you not even make a drawing?”
“Dad ... I'm sixteen, I'm in high school.”
“What’s the problem? You can’t make drawings in high school?”
The girl snorted bored and mechanically grabbed the phone.
“What was the topic?” Her father insisted, sitting on the bed’s edge.
List the main problems of modern society,” she quoted. “And try to suggest solutions.”

“Wow, easy stuff.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Yup. No. Both, maybe.”
Mary scanned the nightstand for headphones, but the man did not give up.
“Please...” he said in a broken voice.
Don’t erase me.”
“Dad, I'm not erasing you, I just want to hear some music.”
“And I would like to hear you.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Why you left the paper blank.”
“Do you really want that?”
“You have no idea how much.”
“Okay, okay,” she replied, emphasizing the surrender by placing the phone on the bed.
The truth is I'm tired.”
“About what? Me?”
“No, dad, what are you thinking? I’m tired of the problems of the world, I am tired of bad news, which are the only ones, I’m tired of hearing about hate and gratuitous malice, inhumane politicians and people without empathy, I’m tired of ugly words, because that’s all we read and hear around.”
“Except the songs.”
“Exactly, except the songs.”
“And stories.”
“Yeah, as you say, the stories too.”
A fundamental silence pause occupied the following time, but it was a short interval, enough to keep the narrative rhythm from diminishing.
“I know how to help you,” the man said with an agitated expression, but in the good sense of the word.
I know how to help us.”
“Ice cream?”
“No, later, as a reward.”
“And what we do, now?”
“Let's invent a language, a fantastic one.”
“Explain,” said Mary, preparing to tolerate yet another paternal delirium.
“Do you know why the words you read and hear around are ugly?”
“I assume you're about to tell me.”
“Exactly. They are ugly because they do not at all define people or things, but only insult, degrade, humiliate and more than ever isolate them. We must find words that name people or things for what they really are.”
“For example?”
“For example, I start from the first that comes to my mind: migrants.”
“What's wrong with that?”
“What is wrong is the reason this word is often used. In that way, even before human beings, they are creatures condemned to migrate, to be always on the move, to never belong anywhere, where they come from and especially where they arrive, even after years of staying. It's just a scam to hide their real nature.”
“And what would it be?”
“What is up to any traveler. One day leaving, another arriving.”
“So instead of migrants should we call them arriving people?”
“Only at the moment of the landing, but since they have set foot on the mainland, there is no other truthful definition that arrived people. New arrived, to be precise.”
“And then?”
“No more new, because it was only worth for the first day.”
“And in the next weeks?”
Just arrived.”
“And after a few months?”
Recently arrived.”
“And after a few years?”
Arrived since a long time.”
“And after that?”
The father smiled, with his bizarre expression between hallucination and the satisfaction.
“Then you should ask yourself a question, which explains the reason why we are inundated with ugly words, which are only false, and why we desperately need to find a new, fantastic language to give right credit to people and things in the world.”
“What question?”
“Why, after all these years, about the new arrived people we know neither their first names, nor their personal history, where does they really come from and above all the reason for their departure?”
“Because this not important?”
“That's right, but in our fantastic language it is, in fact, it's the only thing that matters. Agree?”
“Agree, Dad.”
“Good, and now let's go and stuff ourselves with ice cream.”

On the same topic:
When my son opened his eyes

Watch the video storytelling with English subtitles:
What are viruses today

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Wednesday, June 27, 2018

Left vs Right story

Stories and News No. 1107

Once upon a time a world in conflict.
Born from it, grown on it and so used to consider it just one of the many possibilities of a harmonious society.
In the conflicting world two different types of creatures lived and contrasted, with more or less conscious coherence: people inclined to use the left hand as a priority solution, and those who instead preferred the right one.
You could make everything easier, by synthesizing them in left and right-handed, but this one, despite what some might tell you, is not at all a simple story.

As proof of that, at the beginning of the latter it was much more immediate to distinguish the two sides.
Trivializing, left hand meant preferring the peaceful way to the bellicose response, the diplomatic solution to the armed one, standing without delay on the weakest part’s side, without any discrimination, fighting social or merely human inequalities, maintaining an always open and flexible attitude before life changes and reforms that somehow prove to be consistent with real needs, all with the binding reference and unavoidable condition in the form of the most disadvantaged members of the community.
Against that, the right hand was recognizable by its imperative link with traditions and norms, regardless of their daily efficacy, with the muscular and virile choice compared to the too soft and waiting ones, with the more opulent classes, institutional and institutionalized power, with the moral version of things, with taboos and enclosures in spite of liberties and freedoms, all with the binding reference and unavoidable condition in the form of the most individualistic members of the community.
However, especially because of a resounding trick as vulgar as cunning barker, the world in conflict found itself the victim of an astonishing illusion.
Despite the left hand had been the undisputed protagonist of the indispensable prologue to the new, common narrative, while the right one played as the first obstacle to the democratic wailing, the fundamental premises were confused, made illegible and shamefully removed even from the precious notes in the margin.
To the point that it is now plausible to state that there is no difference between the two antithetical hands.
Needless to say which among them could take advantage of such a deception, and while we used to say common bad means half joy, shared guilt often becomes absolution for all.
Nevertheless, what over time brought to one side a renewed arrogance and revaluation of shameful mistakes, even before principles, the other was invaded by insecurity and confusion, mistrust and loss of authority.
Because this is often what happens to those who let erase an inalienable truth from a planned forgetfulness.
That is, to be born, raised and accustomed to a world in conflict.
The consequences were of a grotesque kind.
Over the years, people who preferred the right hand dedicated themselves to show off the latter with increasing boldness, revealing a total absence of scruples, worthy of the one who knows he can get away winning despite any sentence being issued from history.
Meanwhile, the loss of those who were used to favor the left hand reached unexpected levels and the rows started to dangerously divide.
There were those who began to hide the left hand in their pockets and those who practiced to keep it behind their backs, as if it did not exist, as if it were something to be ashamed of.
There were also those who came to cut it off, renouncing the most important of the freedom’s and movement degrees: thought and memory of one's own values.
There were also those who, from one day to the next, got out of bed and as if they were born exactly at that moment, beginning to prefer the once enemy hand.
However, the most paradoxical choices came from those who continued to ventilate the left hand as the priority flag, but using it for every action worthy of the adverse one.
It was the Achilles' heel, or the hand, more defenseless before the advance of the lords of the right.
Because, since the very beginning of time, what can be perfectly done by nature may never be equaled by those who suddenly decide to learn it.
Once upon a time, therefore, a world in conflict.
Built on a clash that never wrote the word end on the screen.
Where those who had the deserving role have lost themselves and those who have taken advantage of that infamous.
Once upon a time there was a divided world.
Among people who, right now, are strangling everyone's present and future with their right hand, and those who have to remember and understand that though it was also taught at school, choosing the left hand is not a sin, you do not go to hell, not at all. And with it, in some stories and countries, as has already happened in the past, you can save the world…

On the same topic:
Them, those ones and the others

Watch the video storytelling with English subtitles:
What are viruses today

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Friday, June 22, 2018

Nuremberg trial of the third millennium

Stories and News No. 1106

History can be repeated, as well as its mistakes and convictions. The following words are (not so freely) inspired by the closing speech during the Nuremberg Trial, which took place from November 20, 1945 to October 1, 1946, by the prosecutor Robert Jackson.
Immigrants are more and more today Jews, and when we will finally understand it, it will probably be too late...

It is impossible, in this conclusion, to do more than to highlight the indelible quantities of vital points of the gloomy and degrading datum about this trial.
Witnesses of atrocities on a large scale, of cruelty and inhumanity, stories of mass deportations, of people reduced to slavery and annihilation of minorities.
Events that will go down in history as the dark side of this twenty-first century.
Shame, depravity, terror were the order of the day.
Immigrants arrested without charge, imprisoned without defenders, deported without trial.
Families blocked at the border, such as parents locked up in detention centers and their children scattered everywhere.

The racist and populist governments will remain in the black book of history for their persecution against migrants.
The most capillary and terrible of this century.
So accurate and unscrupulous in the program that immigrants are considered humans who do not exist.
Future generations will remember these years. If we never succeed in seeking, or preventing these events from happening again, this century can open the doors - again - to the age of civilization.
The time has come to follow the verdict, and if our work has been difficult, it is because the evidence of the facts has made it so.
A study of the defendants reveals that despite of the quarrels between them, each has a role to fit perfectly with the other’s one and all have declared themselves not guilty.
These men among millions of others, driving millions of others, were the ones to create the many Trump, Salvini and Orbán. They intoxicated these gentlemen, individuals vulnerable to power and adulation.
They fed their hatred, they increased their fears.
They put the weapon and the trigger in their hands, and when they fired all of them applauded.
The faults about leaders as Trump, Salvini and Orbán were admitted by some defendants with reluctance, by others with a spirit of revenge. But the faults of these are the faults of all those who are now sitting at the desk.
They ask the court to declare them not guilty of having planned, executed, conspired and committed that long chain of horrors.
If you are a judge and you will declare these men innocent, it means that there was no crime. That no crime has been committed...

On the same topic:
Government anti-immigration speech

Watch the video storytelling with English subtitles:
What are viruses today

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Thursday, June 21, 2018

Populist leader

Populist leader

Alessandro Ghebreigziabiher

Somewhere, long ago, even yesterday, as in this precise moment...

"Good morning, sit down, please."
"Good morning, thank you."
"Should I shut the door?"
"No, leave it, at least some air will come in."
"Well, you’re here for the populist leader’s call, do you confirm?"
"Yes, sure."
"It’s so hot... don’t you think?"
"Summer has begun."
"Yup… before we start, do you want something to drink?"
"Very kind, but no, thank you."
"Don’t you feel thirsty? I am dying…"
"No, I'm fine, thanks again."
"I see… so, I was saying, you would like to become a populist leader, right?"
"What's the matter?"
"What the matter? Damn mosquitoes... this year they haven’t yet done the disinfestation. Obviously we cannot keep the windows closed, in such a heat."
"I understand."
"What about the air conditioner?"
"What about what?"
"You just said: what about the air conditioner?"
"The air conditioner is broken, damn it, that's what I meant."
"I'm sorry."
"You’re sorry... all right. Again, you’re here for the role of populist leader, is that so?"
"Yes, sir."
"What would be your credentials about it? Tell me."
"The best, I assure you. I’m all in one piece, a man of character, with a strong personality and a ringing and authoritative voice. I don’t get easy sentimentality and I'm completely immune to the rhetorical gooders. I only care about the interests of my fellow citizens and I’m ready to stand up like an unshakable bulwark before the foreign hordes looming on our shores and our borders. I’m for the natural family and I will oppose until death against the gender’s relativists and the moral polluters that undermine our nation’s survival."
"That’s all?"
"Yes, sir."
"Go away."
"Get out immediately, you didn’t understand a damn about what really this job requires."
The guy goes away afflicted, even rather confused.
A second later, the next candidate enters the office, after listened to the entire interview sitting in the corridor.
He has a dazzling smile and looks very confident.
"Good morning, have a seat."
"Thank you."
"Are you here to become a populist leader?"
"Yes right."
"So, tell me about the..."
"Look, let's do it short: this heat is lousy, working under these conditions is intolerable and unacceptable, the sun is an overrated star, as well as the summer, it should be abolished, I suggest we delete it, that's what the people want, except holidays, we leave them. In the meantime, I suggest we equip cities with free air conditioning everywhere, of course, our local production, not that poor Chinese stuff, the funding is here, I swear, we just cover the cost saving on sunscreen, because we canceled the hot season."
"And then?" Asks the entranced interviewer.
"Then we’ll work on a total extermination of mosquitoes throughout our national territory, not before we locked them up and tortured those damn insects in special detention centers, as a warning to all those who dare think to arrive here and live at the expense of our blood."
"And then?" The other asks with a faint voice.
"Then, don’t you think I forgot your thirst, sir. It's not fair that those people wallow in the water at our expense and the good citizens suffer the heat."
"Who are you talking about?"
"Migrants, that’s obvious. As soon as I’ve got the task I’ll work on a fundamental project, that is to drain the part of the Mediterranean that divides us from Africa, then we’ll desalinate, sterilize and make its water potable, to finally quench the thirst of good people like you. I want to see, then, how they will be able to start those damn ships full of stealers and abusers when they will only find miles of desert in front of them."
"Man, you’re a genius..."
"No, I'm just the best populist leader you're looking for."

Wednesday, June 20, 2018

World Refugee Day 2018: Letter from Rome to Birmingham, 1963

Stories and News No. 1105

Dear Martin Luther King*,

From an insignificant sender to an example become myth, from my future to your apparently different past, from one nation surprisingly similar to yours, from one discrimination to another - so unconsciously identical, I think, from my often underestimated freedom to your unjust imprisonment.
Fifty-five years also divide us, but yesterday as today, being on the side of the oppressed ones, those who will not easily give you friends’ and relatives’ applauses, let alone percentage points in your political career or any field, it is not an easy road.
Yet today, like yesterday, injustice reigns. And just as today, like yesterday, we cannot remain idly seated and not be worried about what is happening.

You were right then, and you are even more in this hard time: everything that touches directly one, it indirectly regards all of us.
Nonetheless, even in my country the voices that on the contrary show restlessness before overly coherent manifestations and excessively exuberant marches, but your reply to the general apathy becomes further reasonable decades ahead.
You suggested an effective action, even if not violent, capable of causing tension in a society that is really not facing the problem.
Well, if despite your sacrifice, and many others like you, even now we are witnessing the return not only of slogans, but even governments founded on racism and intolerance, it means that we have to do infinitely more to dramatize the iniquitous society for too many of our fellow men.
You said you were not afraid of the world's tension, urging your contemporaries to do the same.
Well, you have no idea how much courage should be nourished, sustained and spread today in the land where I live.
Today as then, already, exactly.
Then, as we need to do today, you listened and rejected without hesitation the inevitable invitations to wait for the administrative answers, obsessively linked to the elections moment as the only solution to evil.
The weakness of this assumption echoes even more than from your own words, from the experience of each protagonist, or the simple appearance, inside the civil rights movement.
In other words, an unavoidable principle connatural to our own species, we may also read as the privileged groups rarely voluntarily give up on their privileges. Freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor, it must be asked by the oppressed ones.
For years and still today the discriminated creatures heard the word that is written as wait, but you should read as never, as delayed justice is equivalent to denied justice.
However, if on this topic, how it happened to you, someone dared to bring into play documents and regulations, rules and orders - in short, the much manipulated rights and duties of citizens, who still has almost intact consciousness and intellectual honesty cannot avoid recognizing that there are fair and unfair laws. And that your quote from Thomas Aquinas is more than ever valid today: Every law that raises the human personality is right. Every law that degrades the human personality is unjust.
As you remembered, we should never forget that every inhuman action that Adolf Hitler did in Germany was legal.
Well, what is more degrading and unfair to define a human being as a clandestine?
If all this were not enough, the analysis that I appreciate the most in your precious missive concerns the so-called moderated people.
How sadly true is your reasoning, how bitterly it is here, now.
As you wrote about the Ku Klux Klan, I am also convinced that the greatest obstacle for refugees, migrants in general, or simply human beings, in their journey towards a dignified freedom are not the racist parties but the moderate citizens, who still prove to be more attached to order than justice.
Those who you defined as the defenders of a negative peace, incurable absence of tension, instead of pursuing a positive peace, with the indispensable presence of justice applied to everyone.
Their biggest mistake, as you rightly affirmed, is to live with a mythical concept of time, advising the suffering creatures to have patience, waiting for a better horizon.
The time to get up and go down to the streets to stay until there is need was yesterday.
This should make us understand once and for all how much it could be today…

*Martin Luther King wrote his famous letter in 1963, while he was locked up in a Birmingham cell, arrested for participating in a demonstration.

On the same topic:
The playing cards

Watch the video storytelling with English subtitles:
What are viruses today

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Friday, June 15, 2018

All for a beer

Stories and News No. 1104

Too bad about that girl, I told myself coming home.
She was not just cute, but also had a deep and smart look.
A beautiful voice too, which is not obvious.
We were chatting so well, there in the square, with all the favorable ingredients. A lovely, sunny not too hot day that was going to end peacefully, work behind and all the time in my hands.
But then... then she pulls out her pamphlets and the magic instantly ends.
I do not think she wanted to speak only for that, but her gesture inevitably froze the moment’s spontaneity.
It's important, she explains, Amnesty International is doing things to help the world’s last ones, and contributions from people like you are vital, she adds.
I repeat, if I think about it even now with a cold mind, I'm almost certain we could continue the mutual acquaintance, but her sudden script’s change, even if with noble intentions, forced me to immediately close our common story.
I'm sorry, I told her before turning around and leaving, but I don’t trust these good-looking NGOs who get rich on our shoulders by exploiting the humanity’s problems.
Once at home I am frustrated and disoriented.
I have no regrets about what I said, it is clear, but it was really nice to chat with that girl and I feel I still lost something.
At that moment I remember the words of my younger brother, Steven, who works as a doctor in Africa with one of those “fake humanitarian” associations, as I used to call them, who often reproaches me of remaining too anchored to the same habits: if you don’t try other roads, what right you have to talk about their destinations?
The usual philosopher, the doc, but I miss him.
How many times we went to the cinema together. We are different, we immensely are, but the passion for the seventh art has always united us and a lot.
So I want to see a good movie, the best way to forget the girl.
I am going to look for something good on streaming, when I feel the inevitable appetite, given the time.
I do not want to cook and I decide to please the little brother.
Okay, Stevie, I say as if he were still at home with me, where he lived for four years before he left.
New roads, as you suggest. Enough with the usual pizza. What do you think of Japanese food? Those who keep silent, they must agree, I tell myself, a foregone conclusion for those who live alone.
I call the first take away restaurant I find and after ordering a little haphazard the guy asks me what I want to drink.
I do not understand anything of what he says and I choose just as random.
Go for Kirin Beer!

Seen, little brother? I have no problem to change, don’t you think? Once again, the silence approves, and while I'm looking for the movie, that U2 song starts to sound, Walk On.
It's also my cell phone
's ringtone, for that matter.
I answer, it's mom, she reminds me that on the weekend is Dad’s birthday, I assure I had certainly not forgotten, but it is a lie.
I say too many lies to that woman, I know, but it's the only way I've found to look better than I am. And my mother has to see me better, especially since I went to live alone.
I resume to plumb the list and here I see The Lady, a Luc Besson’s film dedicated to Aung San Suu Kyi.
What a coincidence, I tell myself, even my ringtone’s song was written for her.
So I entrust myself to destiny and I choose Besson's movie, partly because another Steven’s advice comes back to me, accusing me of control obsession: every now and then you should let life combine the dots for you.
After a few minutes from the beginning of the film, thinking back to Aung San Suu Kyi and all the support she received, I dwell on how contradictory history is, given the crimes committed by its government against the Rohingya refugees.
I'm good not to trust others, then, right? That's why the better thing I should do is to trust only myself.
At that moment, I realize I'm thirsty.
Heck, I cannot wait to taste this Kirin beer.
I resume watching the film, which is not bad, a bit 'slow, but it is not bad at all.
Someone rings at the door, finally I can eat.
I pause the movie, take the food, pay the bellboy and go back to the living room.
I arrange dinner on the table, but first of all I open my drink.
Kirin beer, I hope it's good.
I sip, I take the film, and I sip again.
She got the Nobel prize too, I tell myself, thinking back to the refugees...
After all, I believe it is one of the trademarks of this early century. Also because of the extraordinary hyper-connection that binds us all, it is much easier to know better others’ life, public and private it is.
Take that actor, Kevin Spacey, world famous star, also known for his humanitarian efforts, before ending up in disgrace.
The unsuspected celebrities...
Wait, what was that movie’s name where he also got the Oscar?
Steve, you should know this immediately, you've always had a better memory with the titles...
Yes, The Usual suspects!
In the meantime I still swallow my Japanese drink, undisputed proof that I have no problems with new things.
I remember the ending of that movie with Spacey, where you understand everything at the end and it turns out his character was telling what was before our eyes.
Everything is connected, we are all related, I find myself reflecting.
Like the moral from that other great movie, Babel.
At that moment, at that precise moment, I almost risk a heart attack and I turn the bottle over.
Kirin beer...
Produced by the Japanese company that in these days it has been discovered to finance the army responsible for the violence and the abuses on refugees through its Burmese subsidiary.
Exactly what that naive girl of today told me about...

On the same topic:
Time for excuses

Watch the video storytelling with English subtitles:
What are viruses today

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Thursday, June 14, 2018

Recovery community

Recovery community

Alessandro Ghebreigziabiher

At the very beginning it was difficult.
It is for everyone.
I will never forget the first day in the recovery community.
On the other hand, could I forget all the others?
In any case, my new companions were there, in the courtyard that hosts everyone, where there is room to meet, if you really want it.
"My name is..." I started trying to introduce myself, but I was immediately blocked by my interlocutor.
Silence, this is what she said.
This is what she asked.
Difficult, really difficult.
Hard undertaking, to be honest, because I was there to ask for help.
To get it, being precise.
Nevertheless, I suffered the rejection and armored myself with wounded pride until sunset.
The following day I was back in the square, the place of socialization and sharing.
I approached the first guy to chat with and I exclaimed: "Hello, I would like..."Identical answer.
Silence, this was in fact his reply.
This is the question.
As I said earlier, I do not know if I give you the idea, it is incredibly difficult to change.
Looking for something and agreeing not to find it.
Unless you use the right words.
Nonetheless, I spent the whole day in total solitude, yielding to the anger every inch of my belly, in spending time among those people so incapable of being useful to the need.
Desperate need, to be accurate.
On the third day I was determined to discover the key to the virtuous connection.
The night before I had not closed my eyes, scrambling to figure out where I was wrong.
Because erased the predictable frustration, I knew that the obstacle I had encountered was the reason for my presence there.
And that was me.
I set foot among the people who, like me, had taken those first steps, which now enjoyed a freedom and, above all, a serenity which I had been willing to face my demons for.
This time I hesitated, again and again, but eventually I returned to the starting point.
"Sorry," I murmured albeit with the utmost kindness to a young couple, "I am..."
Same as above.
Silence, this is what they answered in chorus.
This is what they suggested as a solution.
Anger was replaced by bewilderment, and it was difficult, immensely difficult, because confusion can completely win you, as much as it can make you vulnerable to the truth.
I wandered until nightfall, alone, isolated, far from everything and everyone.
But also from me, luckily.
Other days followed and the dance continued monotonously.
I know... silence.
But I... silence.
I believe that... silence.
And so on.
It was difficult, and even more so today that I understood where I was wrong, what fed the most terrible and modern drug in the world.
In short, self-reference.
No longer me, but silence, this was the beginning of the new story.
Listen, the rest of the latter.
All of you, the final moral...

Wednesday, June 13, 2018

Inside the Aquarius

Stories and News No. 1103

Once upon a time there was an Aquarium.
Considered by most as a strange type of container.
Of a traveling nature, to name one.
Of a possibly perennial path, to be honest.
Unless it disappeared on the horizon, or at best for many, below it.
In the meantime we observe, we pause our gaze or we turn immediately, because time is short and empathy even less.

However, we speak and choose route and destiny, next page and even the story’s end.
The latter’s moral is trivial, as it often happens.
The message is absolutely obvious, according to the usual script, and the afterword sounds incredibly rhetorical, the exact, bitter picture of modern life.
Where for many, undoubtedly too many, existing means to attend the spectacle of others’ misfortunes, unduly getting the role of directors and screenwriters without ever having moved from the audience seat.
On the screen the creatures trapped in the prison bowl are swimming in their grim destiny. Humans exhausted by hunger and thirst force each other in this infamous nightmare. If not men, women and children struggle to survive between heat and disease.
This design is nothing new.
The scene is already seen stuff.
The grotesque metaphor was reproduced everywhere in the form of a massive reality show, where the best lights are focused on commentators and VIP guests, even if the competitors.
This is a global success TV show, with all the right ingredients, as the most popular and equally manipulative news, together with the condition that unites the world: everyone can speak about, everyone can share, everyone must do it, but above all each of the spectators at the media circus will be able to eliminate the poorly tolerated protagonists with a quick, digital thumb-down.
Long live the migrant aquarium, therefore.
Blessed is the most popular entertainment today.
So its inhabitants, living toys in the hands of a humanity regressed to the most brutal phase of its wicked involution.
Nevertheless, I apologize, if the story might be completely ordinary.
Forgive me if the essence of the latter was totally devoid of originality.
I'm sorry, and you do not know how much, if the conclusion proved to be incurably customary.
But so is the life we tell ourselves and we unceasingly share, of a huge mass of non-paying, ignorant and delirious viewers before an obtusely misunderstood scenario.
Not a glass tank with fishes, although they too are victims of human idiocy.
But a real Aquarius, a constellation among the oldest ones, composed of myriads of stars born to illuminate sky and earth like all of us, after all.
And yet, nothing extraordinary in the picture, I said.
Already known plot.
A caption repeated in every age, that is, only those who know what it means to live in the Aquarium/Aquarius should have the right to speak...


On the same topic:
Viktor Orbán’s rule

Watch the video storytelling with English subtitles:
What are viruses today

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Friday, June 8, 2018

World War 1 Centenary 2018 letter to grandparents

Stories and News No. 1102

Dear grandparents,

These words are for you, that in two different continents rested, separated by a sea whose waters become every day more and more turbid.
In life you have never met, and thanks to the privilege of a page and especially the time to fill it - which we should always be grateful of, I imagine you together, maybe sitting in a common living room, heated by the emotion of the moment and from the inexorable quantity of memories to be exchanged.

Among the many, the one that went on stage exactly in July 1914, only to come out, for good luck of all the protagonists, just over four years later.
I refer, of course, to the first world war, the great one, which will celebrate its centenary next November.
I watch you carefully, now, that I have explained the pretext of this oneiric meeting.
In detail, the grandmothers are seated on the sofa, while the respective husbands are standing upright, and more or less at the same time your witness memories make slide the most suggestive snapshots, the fragments of words and images, the echo of fears and anguish, but also solidarity and courage, compressed and divided humanity at the same moment.
Forgive me if I dared to bring you back to the most terrible passage of your personal living tale, but the occasion is almost perfect.
In fact, it happens that a hundred years have passed since the end of that first monstrous collective nightmare in the whole history, and the almost is due to the fact that I am writing this very much in advance, since there are still five months left to November.
The reason is simple.
I wanted to take advantage of the classic non-suspicious times, that is to avoid running the risk of looking rhetorical or worse, as artificial and not spontaneous.
I would like to be honest with you.
I would like to be near you and understand you better now.
More than anything else, before a Europe that was dangerously divided, composed of nations capable only of being hostile to each other and allied if the common enemy proved to be an advantage.
Facing an too vulnerable and martyr Africa by the hands of the former, through cynical machinations and undue invasions that were being offered in the form of normal foreign policy.
In the presence of a society where the discrimination of different cultures and religions served as the fulcrum of the electoral campaign, first, and as a pivot of the government program, afterwards.
In front of a civil society that it would regret too late its responsibilities in the final calculation of the victims.
I have a million questions, dear ones.
What gave you the strength to survive all this?
What action seemed to you the most just and noble, if read in retrospect?
But, especially, what could you have done to prevent the worst, observing all together the tragic past, now ineluctable?
I'm here, I listen to you with all my heart.
Because your answers can save us.
And because yours, same hopes of a hundred years ago.
Now, they are ours...

On the same topic:
What is war?

Watch the video storytelling with English subtitles:
What are viruses today

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Buy my English Italian, dual language books
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Watch my last storytelling show with English and Italian subtitles Sunset
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Thursday, June 7, 2018

The invasion

The invasion

Alessandro Ghebreigziabiher

It's a beautiful, early summer day.
The sun is hot, but not too much, the current season keeps its promises, as the forecasts did the night before.
On the other hand, as Mary always says, can we allow a cell phone voice, even if it told with perfect phrasing the meteorological indications, to decide what to do with our time?
In any case, therefore, in the early hours of the morning of that holy Saturday she would have loaded in the car umbrellas, buckets and pallets, as well as complete sonship, to go to the nearest beach.
However, nowadays you are no longer protected from them.
The human antivirus, self-enlisted in the ranks of the guardians of global security.
In fact, as soon as the woman has placed the food on the towel for a quick snack, as an intermediate step between a dive and yet another sand castle, the alarm triggers: attention, danger, check the borders of the towel, patrol the sacred edges!
"Who's talking?" Asks Matthew, five years old, in the midst of an irrepressible need for answers.
"Don’t worry," tries to reassure his mother. "Eat the tart."

Nonetheless, the warning becomes louder: be careful, they are coming, they want to occupy your space and steal your food!
"Who does he refer to?" Sylvie asks, seven years old, in other words in the midst of an irrepressible need for answers, detailed too.
"Ants," the elderly sister Paula explains, twelve years old, that is, in the midst of an irrepressible need to give answers, detailed or not.
"Who wants some orange juice?" Asks Mary, as usual, able to anticipate her children’s real needs, the trademark of every mother and, as an exceptional mutation, also some fathers.
The drink quenches the family and gives it the right charge to abandon the cloth to its destiny and work on the ascent of the alleged unreachable record of eight ball passes without letting it fall.
At the same time, as frustrated by their nonchalance, the desperate call becomes even more acute and heartfelt: arm yourself, defend the cloth from uncivil hordes, they are not like us, they are beasts, they want to destroy everything, they envy our crumbs, they think just eating and having children...
So, unheard, the message turns on hallucinations: they want to enter our ears at night, and then assault the brain and make us like them, if we do not stop them on time we will sprout antennas and we will all live underground, eating leaves and carrions of animals...
Until it becomes offensive: be ashamed, friends of the termites, why don’t you take one of them at home instead of doing the usual feel gooders? That’s easy talking to the shelter of your umbrella, with the full bucket and the clean scoop...
In the meantime, the family succeed in the goal and eleven dribbles are celebrated as a memorable triumph.
"It takes a good ice cream to celebrate the event," Mary suggests.
Degenerate female, at that moment the unpleasant presence barks, you’ll leave those beasts gnawing the pistachio from your own children’s fingers...
"Mom?" Asks Matthew, five years old, still little, but already able to grasp of modern life’s contradictions.
"Yes, dear?"
"Why is this man afraid of ants? I've never seen any on the beach..."
"What man?" Asks Silvia, seven years old, in other words still very young, but already able to grasp how paradoxical modern life’s contradictions could be.
"There is no man," replies Paula, twelve years old, not yet an adult, but awake enough to understand that such paradoxical contradictions are anything but modern. "It's just the wind, today it blows from the city to the sea..."
Bringing with everything, including strides of smog and delusions.
"Fortunately, today is a beautiful day and it's sunny," Mary thinks. "We'll be fine, I know."
Because we will not be fooled anymore.

Wednesday, June 6, 2018


Stories and News No. 1101

They are, yes they do.
In places where you least expect that, if you stopped here, a handful of words from completeness and, above all, thought basis.
But on the other hand, is not avoiding such nuisances that today the fiercely populist citizen draws his indisputable conclusions?
Is it not with the same approximation that he judges and then votes?
In short, is not it enough reading the article’s title to delegate the fate of one or more generations?
Nevertheless, if you found time and curiosity to go further, I tell you that ten thousand immigrants from all over the world moved last year to

Australia, a record country for the classification.
In the total absence of protests, on the traditional as digital public square.
With just as much easiness, in the United States nine thousand illegal persons have magically become citizens with a sudden, unusual wand’s blow, the blinding and silent type’s, which shines and resonates only in exclusive environments, where hoping for a better future costs so little to become simply wanting.
At the same time, five thousand foreigners without a residence permit have officially become Canadians with no effort.
No wall has slowed down their path.
No voice has risen intolerant and angry against them.
No one has dared to take advantage of it through the usual, blatant manipulation of the worst ignorance, made further arrogant by the most unjustifiable hatred.
As many refugees were greeted with red carpet and handshakes, pats on their backs and even hugs in the United Arab Emirates.
Because the narrative that accompanies these travelers states that they do not bring illnesses and do not steal jobs, that they do not want to impose their beliefs, let alone their culture.
In the same, last year, with identical ease of transit three thousand strangers have obtained citizenship from the Caribbean islands and two thousand from Israel, the same number from Switzerland, and a thousand from New Zealand and Singapore.
Every year thousands of migrants like these get anywhere they want, on the spot, in response to the simple request, identity documents and every type of free pass.
Then, in the following days, it is a strictly downhill road waiting for them.
They do not know racism and discrimination of any kind.
They have only to choose which city to settle in.
Which neighborhood to raise their children in.
Where to work.
Where, simply, walking among people, or even just standing still, enjoying the human right of rest on a planet that wears the geographical borders as one of the many freaks of the most insane species.
Boundaries that work as red-hot barbed wire for some and well-oiled revolving doors for them.
The welcome immigrants.
In other words, those with a million dollars in their pocket...

On the same topic:
The law of migrants

Watch the video storytelling with English subtitles:
What are viruses today

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Buy my English Italian, dual language books
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Friday, June 1, 2018

Italy new populist government: who elected them

Stories and News No. 1100

You did it.
Finally you succeeded in your purpose, more or less consciously.
The government of populists has got the power.
Did I say populists?

Oops, sorry, I meant... in fact, I want to tell you the truth, I would always like to, story or news that it is.
I meant fascists, yes.
The fascists have returned to lead our country.
And as much as you can now tear your clothes off and show yourself indignant, it is you who have helped them.
You are the one who elected them, exactly, as unshakable supporter of the wonderful world of the so-called social-democratic, reformist, centre-left party, and other misleading definitions.
Obviously, it is not the overvalued cross on the symbol, which I refer to, but all the countless occasions when you cleared the way to supremacy for the intolerant professionals.
Sitting in the shelter of a term that you have inexorably emptied of all meaning.
Left, just like that, along with the indispensable topics which you should have taken a consistent position on.
I’m talking about immigrants, let's start with the least avoidable one.
You voted for the fascists when you started to convince yourself that being leftist simply meant tolerating foreigners, rather than being the one who welcomes the newcomer with open arms. And you did the same in the moment you thought immigration meant expulsions and entering flows, checks at sea and walls, falling into the bleak
distinction between second generations and illegal immigrants, between political refugee and economic migrant.
How many deceptive words have you allowed to enter your vulnerable vocabulary.
Leaving behind the noble cloak that would protect you from the only, real horrible invasion. The one where there was and it is still written that being leftist means always being, without ifs and buts, on the side of the last ones.
Without any discrimination, as it used to and should still be said.
You gave your vote to the fascists from the moment you believed that to be leftist meant standing with the famous leftist ones.
Then it was enough to giving your loving like to the social pages of good-hearted celebrities and newspapers of now watered down historical
membership, participating in formally progressive gatherings and responding to appeals and petitions sensitive to the causes ennobled only by  proclamation.
You felt leftist because you used to go watching the leftists’ shows.
You told yourself you were leftist because you only read the leftists’ books.
You were persuaded of being a leftist because you never lost a truly leftist’s talk show, different from the others. And then rushing to compliment and praise your hero on the left-hand side of the screen.
Because it is now clear, paraphrasing the saying, you were always ready to get on the bandwagon of those on the left, but successful.
At the same time, you continued to ignore the first, sacrosanct principle, while the poor of the world, one population that you should have seen compact in your precious vision, without any difference, were placed against each other.
In the end, even with your endorsement, and this is the most unacceptable thing.
Similarly, you voted for the fascists by betraying another, inviolable axiom for your alleged category, when you succumbed to the insane and irresponsible idea that a so-called peaceful war might have civil, legal and moral foundation.
Guiltlessly ignoring the concept repeatedly taught by History, that if you're not there, between constructive dialogue and the battlefield, massacres, and genocides, blood flows and entire generations disappear.
You voted for the fascists deceiving you that protecting the planet and taking care of the environment was the prerogative of the green ones, absolutely not to be confused with the reds that you were ashamed of belonging every day more.
Well, if all this was not enough, you have voted the fascists even before the many, really holy ways through which love unites two people, when you should have been one, unavoidably one with the creatures discriminated for the colour of their heart.
Now, everything is done.
As in the last century, the true right, which someone erroneously calls extreme - but it has always been just right, it is holding the destinies of the nation.
I hope, I really hope that from this moment on, however difficult it might be, something good will come out.
Maybe that you, seeing who you have voted so far, finally understand what it means being on the left...

On the same topic:
Don't believe us

Watch the video storytelling with English subtitles:
What are viruses today

Read more stories to think about
Buy my English Italian, dual language books
Listen my music band
Watch my last storytelling show with English and Italian subtitles Sunset
Storytelling videos with subtitles