ciao Maestro

Ma se po’ esse più fregnoni de così! E’ per questo che ce tengono sotto: perché noi c’avemo er core e loro no! E quanno ‘o buttamo giù er padrone se continuamo a annà n’giro cor core in mano? A Bellachio’, voi diventa omo?”

“Perché, mo’ che so’?”

“Mo’ sei ‘no stronzo, n’sei niente, sei ‘no schiavo: ma se voi esse omo, strappate er core e buttalo lì, n’do ce sguazzano le vacche”

post 1- late night

I like the idea of something that aims high,
that seems to arrive, something that has no endsuch as pain or courage.
I like the transparency, the indefinite form of two bodies remain united by a kind of force that does not know apparently laws.
the apple falls, the image appears.
the crowd around enchanted by the passage, it becomes part of a miracle photo, a moment unknown to many
I like that she look up that looks like the others above, but with one exception, with my eyes closed ..
as one can see with your eyes closed.
looks up and sees the sun, perhaps, the gaze is lost in the void, the infinite of that skyscraper lost in a vacuum.
is curved, however, to ask him, to bend. is the top down is the high in its little sharpness to want diventire matter. upward is formed towards the ground. as a sunflower reverse, which tends downward. this time the sun is shining from below. from the bottom. kissing to occhii closed because the light blinds them, there is no other explanation. And I like that.

donteatpeperoni

Is the simplicity of a smile that fills my heart
a space, a gap, a reason.
It takes rationality (and tears).
A man should never cry.

I will find myself in the night
thinking about you
and this one,
in all damn this.

Curse me
for however
little I gave you,
for me, a lot .

To me will stand infinite the day, every day
and everything will be empty.
.

Will try rationality, I will be there to cry.
Man can now cry.
Fissure becomes crater.
Crater is despair.

L'oro e 'o sole di Galdieri

‘O Sole nun è d’oro, figlia mia,
né dint’ ‘o vierno, né dint’ ‘a staggione.
Nun credere a chi conta ‘sta buscia;
nun sentere a chi canta ‘sta canzone.
Rispunne a chi te dice ‘sti pparole:
— « ‘O Sole nun è d’oro! ‘O sole è... ‘o Sole!
‘O Sole è ‘o Sole che ‘nce scarfa ‘e ccase,
c’ammatura ogni frutto e ‘ndora ‘e spiche.
È ‘o Sole ca m’asciutta ‘e panne spase,
ca mme secca ‘a cunzerva e spacca ‘e ffiche.
E nun è d’oro! Pecché ll’oro è niente...
E senza ‘o Sole nun sarrìa lucente!