Parati - Blog Posts

Un animale chiuso dentro il palmo dell’avversario.

Eccomi.

In gabbia.

Non so cosa mi fai ricordare; Quando tu, sei vicino a me, e io più ti vedo più penso a come sono la tua preda.

Ti osservo attentamente; prendo le tue abitudini.

Ci assomigliamo tantissimo e non so perché x

Io vedo te, che però sei me.

Sono chiusa in una stanza, piccola assai da prendermi il fiato. E tu, sei un mafioso, mi hai torturato, ucciso e poi mi hai raccolto di nuovo, accarezzandomi le guance con una tenerezza strana.

E cosa avrei potuto fare, io?

Non capisci. Io sono una tua preda.

Qua a New York funziona così la vita.

O fai la preda, o sei il predatore.

“Pensai che toccava a me, prete, dargli quello che gli era dovuto e lasciare che fosse Dio, non gli uomini, a giudicarlo”

-domanda fatta in un intervista a Padre Gigante da Maurizio Chierici per un libro chiamato “Gli eredi dei gangsters”,1975.

Ah, Padre. Dio viene sempre messo in causa. Non vi vergognate?

Io di certo, no. Lo so che sono la preda, del mio nemico, ma sono fiera di esserlo.

Almeno, lui é presente.

Who I am?

"I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please, don't ask me who i am."

This reminds me of a particular scene in my life; my Spanish teacher had always been really strict and weirdly relentless into educating us (my class and I), believing that behaving so, she was doing a great job. Instead, she was doing quite the opposite of what she intended to; inflicting her personal beliefs and faiths into our culture, she destroyed our own authenticity or better said, identity.

Now personally talking, I remember that in first year of high school, she said something really interesting to a girl in my class meanwhile scolding her in a, dare I say, cruel way; "How can you expect me to understand what kind of teaching you deserve when you don't even know yourself?".

It's weird because at that time those words weren't surely directed at me, but I flinched so hard that had me speechless.

Didn't that girl really know herself?

Didn't that girl really know who she was?

Does she know who she is right now?

Since those words were pronounced by that ascetic woman, have already been three long years. And I still think of those religiously.

Did I know who I was at that time?

Do I know who I am now?

I certainly can't answer this question. As Sylvia Plath said, I know what I like and what I dislike. I'm 24/7 thinking about how I want to be meanwhile not knowing who I am.

Now my faith is probably this; finding out who I am. And how do I find this out? I don't know.