Thursday, June 27, 2019

Fragments of photos and news

Stories and News No. 1168
 
Here we are, at the end of the day, no matter how much we can rant and scream, pontificate and even insult, the meeting with the others beyond the boundaries of our moral solitude could only be reduced to that.
Fragments.
More or less sensitive or exploitable fragments of photos,

news and more than ever lives that necessarily need a much larger number of human details to understand them.
It’s one of our main problems modern, people of this hyper-connected society, made up of perpetually running clock hands and eyes and ears that can't wait to jump to another digital table, to enjoy new, flavorless but so sparkling food.
Because it should be obvious at any age and for any IQ that single humans’ story is not physically synthesizable in such a tiny portion of pixels.
None of the protagonists of the latter really would like it, not even us. And above all, in many, too many, they surely don’t deserve it.
Oscar and his daughter Valeria’s passage on this earth was composed of priceless pieces that will be infinitely precious to those who will be forced to survive with the void generated by their premature death.
Nevertheless, they have immense value also for the rest of the world which has somehow come into their sad story.
Like so many, like everyone else, as you and me, and like so many unfortunate creatures of this land who earn the doleful record of the five minutes of popularity in the worst moment of their lives, that young father, that fragile little girl, have been something else.
Once upon a time Oscar also had the size of a child, just like his daughter.
You may read both as the legitimate offspring of the world with a baggage full of dreams and rights to which we all must pay sacred attention; and no one feels sufficiently innocent or distant.
At the same time, during the few months in which Valeria deeply breathed and cried with the same commitment, learned to imitate the smile and to design it on her face with wonderful spontaneity, to know the difference between falling and falling, but then getting up again, and to experience the eternal dance between the inimitable warmth of parents’ closeness and the indescribable sadness due to their temporary absence, there were no photographers’ flashes and reporters to observe it.
However, consciously choosing to ignore such an evidence, we would make a great mistake, which has now become the chronic myopia of heart and conscience of an entire generation.
Facing with the bitter image that has once again become viral for unclean reasons we have the obligation to widen our gaze and find out what was left out of the frame, however feverishly clicked and a second later shared, erasing all memory.
For example, Oscar and Valeria had respectively a wife and a mother named Tania, who was ready to join them on the privileged bank of their adverse fate.
We must not be afraid to imagine the three in the folds of the past before all that is usually consumed by the ravenous mass media.
Because we should never be afraid to mirror ourselves in the misfortune of others, instead of striving obsessively to find space in the stars’ success.
I'm talking about common stuff, you know?
A mother who wants the best for her only daughter.
A father who wishes to keep the promise made to the woman he has decided to love.
We'll be fine, honey.
We’ll be happy, my dear.
We’ll all have what our parents could not even conceive, was the common, shared aspiration.
For all of that, a single photo, a good article and, maybe, not even the most prestigious editorial would not be enough. And yet, the fate of the victims portrayed, when they could still be saved, it’s decided in an instant with a quick and absent-minded click on the mouse, as by an electoral vote.
There is something terribly wrong before and after every second we burn our time to continue this mad rush.
If we really want to change things, to remedy about them, or at least to try to reverse the dangerous curve of our history, perhaps, we must begin to collect from the ground all the fragments we have left behind on the road, before the wind of our inhumanity will completely disperse them...


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