's usually quiet here. But today you are out and all. The telephone, the telephone, the neighbors, the truck that downloads from the site, maintenance of pumps, barking dogs, screaming ambulances that pass on the road. You have it all with me, I understand.
Cats really are merciless: they can be independent and reserved, almost cold, and here are all here this morning, look at me and meow and you have all an expression that seems to say "do not feel bad, please, we are there." It is not true I know exactly what they are hungry, and between 10 minutes will be all around on their own. They are incredible, none of that belongs to him, perhaps not even realize.
If tomorrow morning I came abducted by aliens they could continue their lives as if nothing had happened, the first going to meow they face to have two biscuits.
My rite of passage, and the only thing that I have the strength to do is cut hair. Was scheduled a few days, then go to the bathroom, grab the camera and rarely on the ground. I'm graying, grizzled I guess. Instead, I shit hair and balding, gone are the days of hair rock. Now I can only afford to cut to zero, and if a god will save me hair specialists, the receding hairline stop and I will not be just bald. The weight
worst is knowing that I'm leaving this house.
Whatever happens, good or evil, the adventure in this place is over. I can not and I will no longer be in a place that is a life project if that project will no longer exist. I get along better with the reset, I want to start again and with different rules.
Good and evil. I no longer tell them apart: I woke up and I was no longer an adult, I lost the ability to evaluate my life, knowing that somehow it would come to this permit. Everything in this house, has lost its function. The bed is no longer a suitable form, the coffee maker looks at me and asks me "what went wrong?", The bathroom window was broken and it seems an abstract painting. On land there is no dust that I'm going to take off.
As I cut your hair in the mirror, I make a mistake and I caused a cut on his neck. Burns. I realize that I have cuts and scars everywhere, at moments I almost fear. I have a cut under the thumb destra, è profondo e molto vicino ad una vena ben visibile. Tanto vicino che mi domando come ho fatto a non lacerarmi quella vena. Più guardo quella linea rossa più penso che dovrei aprire, divaricare, osservare bene cosa c'è dentro. Far uscire molto più sangue.
La doccia è più una tortura che altro. Con tutte quelle ferite il sapone brucia ovunque, e non c'è modo di evitarlo.
Tutte le ferite che ho dentro sanguinano silenziosamente, perché la mia pelle è fatta di illusioni impenetrabili: devo portare le ferite e le cicatrici fuori, per non illudermi di essere invulnerabile. I segni sul mio corpo sono, ormai, la mia storia. Vivo una vita che non mi appartiene, infilato a forza in un corpo umano su cui non ho il controllo. Vivo in dimensioni parallele dove ciò che accade nel piano reale non mi appartiene del tutto.
Solo due volte i piani hanno combaciato, ed è stato terribile. Questa è la terza.
