Then, when everything was Over time, we wondered why. And because there was all the time, tried to respond. But the answers never ceased to ask, so many got tired of trying. Now the time is over. Remained of the words. Maybe they have nothing to say.
\u0026lt; The cord >
"When I was little I had a big problem. Every time I had a headache or throat, and so far nothing strange: it was not pleasant, but it is something that happens to everyone and, as they say, bad policy ... There was, however, an evil that was not common, and indeed there were many. It happened that I hurt it, for example, trousers, when his mother put them in the washing machine and the kind of fan that is in there to beat them here and there. It hurt me the door closed if the wind with a crash, I hurt the cat if someone was pulling his tail and it hurt me to the chair when you sat on Uncle Pasquale, who weighs more than a ton and at times the background.
At one point Mom decided to take me to the doctor. He was a tall and all white, with glasses so thick that you could see his eyes either. He made me sit and lie down, I felt the front and back, looked at me with some other glasses more often and finally cleared his throat and began to explain. Everyone, he said, when we are born we detach from the rest of things. Some things are ours, like the head and throat, and other things - most things - no. The cat and the pants and the chair, for example, are not ours, or are our best in that we can keep them there and another wants them to ask them there, but not in the sense that they are part of us as the head and throat. Here this is what happens to everyone, and indeed to almost everyone. For reasons that nobody understands, sometimes a child is born that is detached from the rest of things. I was a child like this: an invisible but very strong rope tied me to the cat and the chair, and even the pasta and the moon. To make me like the others had to cut the cord.
said than done, the doctor took an invisible but very strong tool (which means it does not know, because I have not seen it) and cut the cord. Since then all is well. Or should I say, not bad. I do not do more harm his pants when his mother puts them in the washing machine, or the cat when someone pulls the tail, or the door when the wind slams it with great noise, and all in all I'm sorry to hear only bad in the head and throat. Is there something that I'm sorry though. Before, when the pants came out of the washing machine and the mother will lay in the sun, I felt everything I ran into this hot as a cup of hot chocolate in winter. Then the mother withdrew them in the closet fresh and fragrant lavender, and it was like falling asleep in the grass under a tree, after a lot of outdoor dining and ran after the ball. Not to mention when the cat is crouched the chair: her soft hair against the smooth leather and velvet. Or when my mother leafing through a book and caressing the pages without realizing it. Those caresses when I hear more from the cord is gone. "
Pagg.29 and 31
Ermanno Bencivenga," The philosophy in thirty-two myths "Arnoldo Mondadori Editore First Edition November 1991
This book was given to me for my birthday in 1992 ... then drew the night ... the dedication says "The person who, with her beautiful hands, unable to hold their sleep better than anyone more !"... I here is my string I still invisible and no instrument has never been so strong to be able to cut ...
\u0026lt; The monkey ink > ;
This animal abounds in the northern regions, is four or five inches long, and has a curious instinct. His eyes are as carnelian and the hair of a black shiny, silky, soft as a pillow . E 'beloved by the ink of China: When one writes with one hand, he sits cross-legged and the other, expects to have finished, and drink the rest of the ink. Then sit back and stay crouched quiet.
TA-HAI WANG (1791)
Jorge Luis Borges and Margarita Guerrero-Manual of Zoology Fantastic Einaudi 1962
A genius with the cord
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