Incontri di una notte di mezzo inverno 
Certe night, outside the arcades, the city seems different to some degree deviated from its normal static. It happens shortly after sunset, in the short period in which he dresses in the evening. Out of habit, summer lasts a minute or less. A collective blink and everything returns firmly in place.
In winter, however, happen to catch it more unprepared, almost listless. Slowed by the smoke of London, which obscures the profiles. These are the nights when the sun suddenly disappears, sinks, and a passage of the sun began to heat ends in the evening atmosphere cloudier.
It's not fog, nor laconic humidifier that distinguishes these tired streets red.
is output from the shaft. The hint all'esorbitanza so.
caught unprepared and unprepared to leave.
Among the lights of downtown, between the obfuscations that mixes every porch and every brick in a single amalgam deaf to the concept of dimensionality, such as grain dust without a goal, it happens to become ingredients in a sudden finirci half.
It is not easy to notice in the frenzy that makes us bounce from one place to head down across the city. Just raise your head, to the nuances of the corners. Sitting in the middle, the entropy breathe, taste the meetings.
I never believed in this phenomenon that seems impossible to track down sources or witnesses.
I heard for the first time during the hours of technology in junior high, but it gave him great importance. None of us gave him anything at that time. We did mess and thought to give a semblance of meaning to the casino where we were changing. Difficult to listen to themselves in the growing shock from hormones in that we we were to dive bomb, imagine that a little-known incravattato, thick and greasy, trying to win our hearts with a story good for a b-movie at low cost. I listened to him, it is true, but with half the frontal lobe poorly tuned, highway to the neglect of any term, then returned to yet another more rubble of my table.
Years later, I happened to read in the library on "esoteric Bologna - Myths, legends and spirits of a city", Volume dusty, fished out of boredom more than for real interest. What little memories that I had allowed to remain in the memory is reactivated instantly along with harassment of a prurient curiosity che non ho più potuto grattar via, non avendolo più ritrovato in nessun altro catalogo. La mia lista di aneddoti era perciò costretta a rimanere semivuota e scarna, inappagata come la fame del tarlo che con insistenza mi rovistava la testa.
Negli ultimi tredici anni mi sono imbattuto in questa storiella da falò estivo solo queste due volte, fino alla sera in cui, annaspando nell’umido gelo bolognese, mi ci sono ritrovato intrappolato per cinque, interminabili minuti.
I lampioni si erano appena riscaldati, aumentando la loro calda intensità arancione un poco per volta. La serata era tra le più bastarde in cui si possa capitare: abbastanza fredda e abbastanza umida da non permettere di completare due metri senza ritrovarsi a tremare con uno strato di brina su tutto il corpo. Piantato nei pochi millimetri che lo separano dai vestiti. Non c'è giacca o maglione che tenga, in gennaio, davanti a questo muro di polvere liquida. S’intrufola ovunque, inesorabile, e comincia a scavare gallerie verso ogni residuo di calore, lavorandosi qualsiasi interstizio con la ferocia di una radice in cerca d’acqua; una lama lenta e continua, metodica nel tranciar via ogni grado residuo.
Eppure la città rimane affollata, dalla prima periferia al cuore del centro.
I was through for the secant which begins on Via Borgo San Pietro, and ends at Porta San Vitale, passing among students, residents and drug dealers who fill the expanses of the university. Launched Via Petroni inevitable slalom between dogs with owners on a leash tied, hot spurts of cold warmth of stale oil, pizza and anything else which may be flooded by the chemistry of contemporary sauces, fine coats, jackets worn wrapped in clouds Smoke and smog, the endless mixture of languages, accents and dialects as a soundtrack, I was unusually early, but not by much. Fresh from comic books, pointing to the first benches Piazza Aldrovandi, to pass the time between the pages of a manga in the illusion of a cone of warm yellow.
After crossing the porch when the sun disappears every reflection, when I heard the rip. Catapulted over the red roofs and sealed beneath layers of old roads. In the middle, that something was me. Go beyond, crawling and walking, almost ecstatic, running out to cut the crossing in a trinity of perceptions with very little sacred. A brief flurry of forms and colors from shades of wet and everything was back to his place, but in a more pale and unhealthy.
The shrine, just before open and crowded, bolted, and the drawing of Peanuts that for years they decorated the gate, eaten alive by rust, the smile of Snoopy and Charlie grins disfigured in full of hatred and despair amidst the ruins of Woodstock just fell from the bridge of Skrik . Shortly later, a bicycle, be perched on a precariously balanced. Slender, sleek, content in tissues of various kinds, anathematizing and premonitions in a cascade of lexical somersaults.
There was something for everyone: drugs (generic or not), their uses and abuses that the disturbances of the heart are overestimated senzacontareche clonazepam for anxiety is gone if you're looking for, soloper electrical discharges girls ; plots of the mistress and the ppolitici scalzacani chesecondovoi where they learn to be such assholes that even private schools then derailed indifference shown by the people all the way to his parents that if it was not for virendeteconto INLA their middle school, of yesterday and today, in which they had fought tooth and nail , we dreamed of the public education today with dick celalascianopiù . Rusty words came tumbling from the megaphone for clawed off in the mist. All this in five or six steps with which I had come close (at least to me in the middle, the others continued to send me just ecstatic reflections percettibili), in cui buona parte dei cancri sociali erano stati analizzati, rimescolati e scagliati con lacerata sofferenza contro l’indifferenza della piazza e della città intera.
Il tempo di metterlo a fuoco ed era partito alla volta della grande piazza, lasciandomi appena un’immagine sbiadita sopra la retina.
La carezza di una lacrima sulla guancia scavata, un lento bacio d’addio e la scomposizione nel gelido vapore sottostante.
Altri pochi passi ed ero seduto. La testa immersa in battaglie and not so parallel worlds as it may seem to the eyes of passing. The other two myself, as hostages. From what I do not know. Almost imagine we were not registered on our right.
- I sit down? - Asking half grunt.
A quick smile of assent and the blind were scrambled. The smell of tobacco when lit to confirm it. The availability of other benches even an idea, as I was taken by the balance of machines that gave life to the characters printed on paper. Ten pages, look at the phone, try to avoid annoying delays. Galloping to a syncopated rhythm the end of the register, milling page after page, hypnotized by analyzing each image. A small film paper in his hands.
Still, fast forward. Freeze frame, fast forward.
between contemplation and bulimic binge. Rewind
list, then run towards the end of each chapter.
again four minutes. The meeting of heads of state jumps, intruders at the palace, a thirst for revenge Uchiha devoured by hate. Less than three minutes. Explosions, flames, black, whole walls crushed by chakra incalculable fury absolute defense against lightning. A frenzied crescendo, until the usual end-broken, to be completed in just over a minute. Page perpendicular dawn in the climax of the action, and a cold hand on his jacket set, breaking the narrative rhythm, burning the remaining pages, obscuring everything beyond the light cone. In
hand, the remains of ashes.
On the arm, the cold burn of the hand resting - 'fuck did penetrate the clothes?
your ass nailed to the wood.
The bladder is ready to give up.
turn my head toward the man - abnormal, plush dark blue on mottled skin, tufts of beard on his cheeks swollen, watery eyes very wide open - I watch carefully blurred, keeping the arm from the grip frost.
stared at him, trying to smile about stretching, without knowing whether those of his mustache between his nose and mouth. He closes his eyes, vertically and horizontally. From the movement I see on the back, is a ferment of malignancies, from low to flake miasma green boots. By doing hallucinated, begins to speak, leaning forward. No sound. And the purple lips are not alone. I see the rotting teeth, throat, tissues, increasing the sound that it clogs up the esophagus. He leans, almost touching me. I realize I do not even hear traces of odors or mangled by the layers of the body, or from suppuration of the mouth. Not an odor. Rotten, acid. Neither of smog. But we will do after the event. From the darkness rises a flurry of sharp shadows and misshapen.
Shout.
From up and down. From the center. It is inevitable.
A Piece of the throat, scudo d’aria teso verso la bocca dilaniata dell’essere che mi sovrasta, mentre ogni cosa intorno comincia a tremate e a spaccarsi. Do il via liberi agli sfinteri, strana ultima volontà, quando le mie due lacerazioni si risbattono al proprio posto e anche il cono si spegne.
– Oh, mi senti? Li vedi quei due là?
Una voce rasposa, un tocco ruvido ma umano e sono di nuovo in me. Guardo attorno, Piazza Aldrovandi è tornata al suo posto.
In mano, il fumetto.
Sul braccio, fredda condensa.
Il culo, sul legno, ma libero.
Vescica, sotto controllo.
Giro la testa verso l’uomo - grosso, vecchio giaccone scuro su sporcizia d’annata, barba incolta su guance rotonde, occhi spenti ma fissi - che mi guarda con allucinata insofferenza e ripete, accompagnandosi con l’accenno di un gesto svogliato:
– Li vedi quei due là?
Porto looked to kiosks in front of the porch. Shadows stirred in the night. Anthropomorphic shadows. I slow down my shake while his voice again, without waiting for an answer.
- In two minutes you can hit, so deg mè , which is fine if you do not kill that maybe pull out a knife, perhaps.
Studio mouth: mellow, normal.
She looks at me insistently, being able to further widen his eyes, exasperated adds: - History of drug capisc ? Of money and heroin. Something must be done.
We fix
, blowing a bit 'air and adds, very serious, pointing to the next phone: - Do you have any money?
- No, sorry. Not even a penny, to finish this.
shake the manga just to confirm. And, it will seem strange, is not even a shit, my.
- In the mobile phone? - Snorts hieratic, adding, in front of my silence - I'm an infiltrator, I can not burn. I need to call in central otherwise end up in slaughter, capisc ? I can not burn, but we risk a pool of blood!
There is anxiety in his voice, an urgency that absolutely need it expands even more eyes.
Now it's up to me. Make a decision. What to do? Give confidence to the design or tone? Both are loaded with credentials and tusks just now still do not go away from your eyes. What the fuck is happening tonight? I'll be mica abbioccato outdoors, 'I'm cold? Which are also the five signs of stroke? We can not but raise one arm and groped a smile, then I guess I did just now, I'm next to guy. If it is a risk of pulotto me stop for impeding an investigation or lack of commitment to civic or ssòccazzo and now it's time to go that are five to seven, if it is a toxic risk area to do so angry but I like taking the piss ? a fight and bring all I have to go I do not think the case. But if it is a phone which has the pulotto why not even broken-down, can immigrate to the bar, who want to see you. Go on, is a toxic that which has the evidence, the cocks that I pull out the phone, see if it's big, like Philip, my old scout leader, the one that pulled them mica light boxes, for play and feel pulls them 'I'm here for details of shit I do not want to. Then, come on, infiltration may not be so shabby, check it out, but fuck that serious look, I miss the Latin teacher was looking at me like that.
- I'm sorry but I'm not a euro there too. I use it to receive - he muttered. C that steep, so big, it could also be an infiltrator.
Suddenly shake, looks around, bewildered, he begins a monologue about how she can do that here ends badly, glancing increasingly hostile not bode well.
Mò how do I get up or maybe I stop or I will jump on him for robbery and a little 'and I'm late? Fucking shit situation. In the evening of shit, then I think about that if that was so real ... but no, but no, think of something to get up which is a cold and Executioner have less than a minute later and then. Yes but if it is an infiltrator then there were two really arguing for the drug and a call could prevent a mess. But if it is not the risk I am the casino. Shit. It may be more Boccalon? Oh well, 'ssen cares, bring all I have to go it's late. Whatever happens to call up in a little '.
I turn around and, embarrassed, I say: - Look, I have to go to the home of one, and then the telephone there. Can I call from there, what do you think? - While in the backpack and get up close, you never know.
I type locks, opens her eyes and, between the anxious and the rod, it makes me a sign to move. Quickly.
- Yes, yes, just make it fast and send them immediately understand? What else goes wrong here! Go on, come on! No time! - Voice yells hateful smanacciandomi on.
already give him away, briskly on the cobblestones, for tonight I've seen quite a mess. At the head of a new worm. I call or not call? What a fucking situation ... I'm almost under the porch light is still red, I continue to torment me. What to have on cosienza such a story does not suit me at all. And if it is a Fregnaccia?
- Take care, Piazza Galvani!
Exactly.
Un panda dagli occhi sbarrati, un particolare pericolo di crollo precedevano il titolo di questo articolo , in cui vengono trattati i tagli ai servizi di welfare che, in questa cittadina alle porte di Bologna così ricca di iniziative culturali e sociali, vengono fatti con la solita cieca, gretta, supponente ignoranza da politicanti con gli occhi incapaci di superare le punte dei piedi. Dei propri. Figuriamoci quelli degli altri. 
Certe night, outside the arcades, the city seems different to some degree deviated from its normal static. It happens shortly after sunset, in the short period in which he dresses in the evening. Out of habit, summer lasts a minute or less. A collective blink and everything returns firmly in place. 
The vegetables are still the winter peppers, carrots, cabbage, zucchini and onion. 
From the air saturated, barely respirabile degli ultimi giorni della Repubblica Romana , al frenetico alternarsi di poesia e lirica, di imboscate cilentine e gelide guerre moderne, con una carrellata finale implacabile ed in ordine sparso sul nostro presente, futuro e passato prossimo (il trattamento riservato a Leopardi odora terribilmente dei fatti riguardanti il recente #rogodilibri ) che troppo spesso ci limitiamo a commentare, più o meno indignati, incastrati sulle nostre poltrone di metallo o davanti a schermi zeppi di vuoto a rapido decadimento. 
Quando qualcosa (che sia libro, film o qualsivoglia altra forma espressiva) viene pubblicizzato all'eccesso, come straordinaria rivelazione, c'è sempre il rischio che, sotto sotto, non rispetti le aspettative that create different trumpeted in those who approach it. 
After reading the emotional comments and alarmed the public to some of my article on the cancer risks and toxicological effects of this or that food, both well as secondary (for example, ' last on infusions of fennel seeds, which contain estragole carcinogen such as basil), I almost regret writing it! But then, nearly almost right the pessimist-realist Ghiselli INRAN - the very organization that conducted the study and issued the statement on the risks of those teas - when he says that I reveal to ordinary people too many things that should be reserved for scientific researchers, because we know that people in Italy are alarming, does not understand, take whistles for flasks, "does not know how to frame and evaluate the risk. Or, once you learned what good is a food, it goes to buy dall'erborista the corresponding supplement, little use if not actually harmful, rather than taking it through food. 
