In memory of Manuela A Yemeni writer Abd al-Wali Muhammad
The road winds like a snake, the sun was hidden by a thin layer of clouds, and the heat that heralded in all likelihood would have been a hot summer.
My friend drove in silence, his eyes fixed on the road and occasionally shook the ashes of a cigarette through a small opening the window.
I watched the fields to my right, the white houses that darted to the side, the red-tiled roofs, some tool shed, garages. Another city flowed before my eyes in the distance as I thought of all the cities that I left, all the reports I stopped.
- I turn on the radio?
He mumbled those words as mumbles who holds the filter of a cigarette between his lips, or as someone who does not speak for a long time and slowly takes the ability to articulate.
- No, thanks.
- Whatever. Besides, you know ... you like to hurt you. The
- No, thanks.
- Whatever. Besides, you know ... you like to hurt you. The
glanced sideways, I did not know exactly what to say. I looked the seat between my legs, then pulled out the bag of tobacco and rolling papers. Rollai me a cigarette. The bright and took two big gulps. I did not know what to say. I really liked it hurt me? Leave and leave this life was to get hurt? I decided to turn on the radio. There was one of those melodies Sanremo. The piece he knew he had heard, I was unsure if it was a rip-off of The Cure or some other group eighties.
- Bella shit - he said - put a cd.
I rummaged in the glove compartment, including lighters sold out, empty boxes of records and documents of the machine.
- CCCP or Nick Cave?
- Make. So they both know by heart. I inserted
CD Abattoir Blues, while the machine was spinning fast on the highway. Pines disappeared behind us, and the heat increased, as we proceed southward.
- This country kills the ability to think and over time dulls the senses and suppress brain activity. Every day that passes we're slower, more dumb and more deaths - I murmured.
- Are you who are pessimistic. And then, once you're in America, I want to see how you do with the food of shit. And then look to neighbors, there is full of crazy!
smiled.
- We are the fools. It is crazy waiting for the bus for forty minutes and then relentlessly attacking a poor driver who makes only his work? It 's the road system that does not work, are the financial statements of companies that do not work, but we do not give a damn. We care only to the first insult that we happen before, instead of trying those responsible. We are so, instead of changing the system, we prefer to vent our frustration on the first that happens, maybe while we're at the wheel. We like to be doers, and that is why we are tolerant of those who prevails. Because if we were in his place, we would do the same thing.
- Of course I would do the same thing, forced to swallow shit, sooner or later you are tired, and when something happens that does not benefit you can earn.
- And you think this has good effects on society?
- No, do not say they have a good impact, but it's also normal that in a system based sula abuse, you also take advantage of it sooner or later.
- Sure, and then continue to consider the public good as a private interest: the copier becomes my office copier, your place in the queue becomes my place, the budget of the country becomes my budget, then there wonder if things go to hell.
From the road now you could see the sea. We left behind the Maremma with its green pastures and filavamo at full speed towards Grosseto. I want a beer and grabbed one from the ice behind the driver's seat. The can was cold, so I passed on the front in an attempt to refresh.
- You want some '?
- Thank you.
drank from the can while I held the steering wheel, then I passed it.
Out the window I saw small villages perched on hilltops, surrounded by magnificent medieval walls. I imagined what treasures of art and history were kept in the sacristy of those small towns in the distance.
- You see, in Italy we say that eighty percent of the world's artistic heritage. But there are things that are left over from earlier times and other stuff done, like all Roman antiquities. But we, Italians, what we are leaving this country? Take a ride in the center of Rome, and you'll see that falls to pieces. They say that we too many cultural assets to defend, and then invest in cultural heritage! You know how many jobs could be achieved? But no, if you go to visit a palace or a ruin, many times the guides are volunteers or low paid people. Low-paid graduates like us. We studied a lifetime trying to get a good job, and instead we face slew of unpaid internships, access to teaching is locked, and in the meantime go on English teachers who can not utter half a word. Not to mention how they are considered students. While still a student, I have spoken of all colors. I was an idealist, I had my feet on the ground, I did not understand anything in the world, that I was stoned books on the brain, and he told me the people as a solution to immigration, sought to kill them all.
- Somewhat radical. The truth is that people want the fixed place, wants to be like our parents who worked for a living in the same place, and maybe retire at forty-five. So they can spend the rest of their lives in their living rooms full of Ikea Thun animals and trinkets of wool from fifty-five €.
The deep voice of Nick Cave spread from the speakers, filling the cockpit of his melancholy: "Can you hear what I hear, babe? / Does it make you feel afraid? "
- Watch them are in their fifties now, I think of my or your parents. People completely bored by life, who has lost all hope in change and only repeats that yellow, green or red are all the same. And then going to vote for? Old eyes cleared, neurotic or supporters of the "fabulous seventies" now deliver our critical faculties to the Church just as forty years ago, was consigned by the Communist Party or the DC. Now they are like broken records that repeat the same phrases: "You young people have no ideals," "You young people do not have initiative," but do you know the way it was in my day. " Well, you know what I think? That they have no critical sense. Do not have ever had.
- I only know that we have collected all dystopias of the twentieth century literature. From Kafka to "Citizen Kane", from George Orwell to Huxley, there is no writer who was not summoned by the foreign press groped for a definition of the state in which we find ourselves. Besides, it is since I was a child I have the feeling that something is wrong. Like a David Lynch film. The shot is in full sun, and yet you know that something gruesome is about to happen. Through the window, scroll saw
cultivated fields in the distance of forest patches dotted the hills, crowned by rows of pine trees while offering their leaves in the sun of midday.
Every time I passed the Lazio countryside come to mind the ancient legends and myths Rome, and I seemed to see before my eyes: a nymph resting in the shade of the Centaurs over there who galloped down the hillside, and everywhere the spirits of nature that interfere with the dreams of some unwary traveler.
- certainly in Italy there are many things that do not go, but I think there you will find an ideal world? In America, any asshole can buy a gun to the supermarket, and then you saw them too documentaries of Michael Moore, think only of the health system they have, and tell me if it feels right.
- It 's where you're wrong, I'm not looking for any ideal world, but only for a job. I want to have the opportunity to earn a living with fruits of my work, my research. My lab has closed, and if I say good for the next contest I find myself inside three generations of unemployed people in line for a place. I have thirty-three, do you think I still have time to invent a new job? I spent nine years to become a researcher and now what should I do? Throw out all the air and recycled in a job which I know nothing? I'm sorry, but I will not kill a system that eats the dreams of the citizens and shit eco-monsters of cement.
The machine was spinning faster towards Rome. I drove in silence, savoring the last hours in the company of my friend. I was silent, not to betray the violence of my emotions. Advancing toward the capital, breathed a strong mixture of water, resin and dry grass, and I knew that he would try all the beaches in the smell of America, without ever finding the same, and I also knew that our relationship would continue through the screen of a computer Skype connected. He, too, would become an electronic presence, like other friends before he found a few birthday party over the loudspeaker and the video of a laptop. I knew what he believed in his dream, as he had studied and worked, and how much he had learned what he wanted to leave his job. But his laboratory was closed after two three months, and all his knowledge, would not have been anything to anyone. If it would be taken away, like a precious plant seeds to be planted in a land more fertile, and where he had worked, it would be advanced in the desert.
- This country kills the ability to think and over time dulls the senses and suppress brain activity. Every day that passes we're slower, more dumb and more deaths - I murmured.
- Are you who are pessimistic. And then, once you're in America, I want to see how you do with the food of shit. And then look to neighbors, there is full of crazy!
smiled.
- We are the fools. It is crazy waiting for the bus for forty minutes and then relentlessly attacking a poor driver who makes only his work? It 's the road system that does not work, are the financial statements of companies that do not work, but we do not give a damn. We care only to the first insult that we happen before, instead of trying those responsible. We are so, instead of changing the system, we prefer to vent our frustration on the first that happens, maybe while we're at the wheel. We like to be doers, and that is why we are tolerant of those who prevails. Because if we were in his place, we would do the same thing.
- Of course I would do the same thing, forced to swallow shit, sooner or later you are tired, and when something happens that does not benefit you can earn.
- And you think this has good effects on society?
- No, do not say they have a good impact, but it's also normal that in a system based sula abuse, you also take advantage of it sooner or later.
- Sure, and then continue to consider the public good as a private interest: the copier becomes my office copier, your place in the queue becomes my place, the budget of the country becomes my budget, then there wonder if things go to hell.
From the road now you could see the sea. We left behind the Maremma with its green pastures and filavamo at full speed towards Grosseto. I want a beer and grabbed one from the ice behind the driver's seat. The can was cold, so I passed on the front in an attempt to refresh.
- You want some '?
- Thank you.
drank from the can while I held the steering wheel, then I passed it.
Out the window I saw small villages perched on hilltops, surrounded by magnificent medieval walls. I imagined what treasures of art and history were kept in the sacristy of those small towns in the distance.
- You see, in Italy we say that eighty percent of the world's artistic heritage. But there are things that are left over from earlier times and other stuff done, like all Roman antiquities. But we, Italians, what we are leaving this country? Take a ride in the center of Rome, and you'll see that falls to pieces. They say that we too many cultural assets to defend, and then invest in cultural heritage! You know how many jobs could be achieved? But no, if you go to visit a palace or a ruin, many times the guides are volunteers or low paid people. Low-paid graduates like us. We studied a lifetime trying to get a good job, and instead we face slew of unpaid internships, access to teaching is locked, and in the meantime go on English teachers who can not utter half a word. Not to mention how they are considered students. While still a student, I have spoken of all colors. I was an idealist, I had my feet on the ground, I did not understand anything in the world, that I was stoned books on the brain, and he told me the people as a solution to immigration, sought to kill them all.
- Somewhat radical. The truth is that people want the fixed place, wants to be like our parents who worked for a living in the same place, and maybe retire at forty-five. So they can spend the rest of their lives in their living rooms full of Ikea Thun animals and trinkets of wool from fifty-five €.
The deep voice of Nick Cave spread from the speakers, filling the cockpit of his melancholy: "Can you hear what I hear, babe? / Does it make you feel afraid? "
- Watch them are in their fifties now, I think of my or your parents. People completely bored by life, who has lost all hope in change and only repeats that yellow, green or red are all the same. And then going to vote for? Old eyes cleared, neurotic or supporters of the "fabulous seventies" now deliver our critical faculties to the Church just as forty years ago, was consigned by the Communist Party or the DC. Now they are like broken records that repeat the same phrases: "You young people have no ideals," "You young people do not have initiative," but do you know the way it was in my day. " Well, you know what I think? That they have no critical sense. Do not have ever had.
- I only know that we have collected all dystopias of the twentieth century literature. From Kafka to "Citizen Kane", from George Orwell to Huxley, there is no writer who was not summoned by the foreign press groped for a definition of the state in which we find ourselves. Besides, it is since I was a child I have the feeling that something is wrong. Like a David Lynch film. The shot is in full sun, and yet you know that something gruesome is about to happen. Through the window, scroll saw
cultivated fields in the distance of forest patches dotted the hills, crowned by rows of pine trees while offering their leaves in the sun of midday.
Every time I passed the Lazio countryside come to mind the ancient legends and myths Rome, and I seemed to see before my eyes: a nymph resting in the shade of the Centaurs over there who galloped down the hillside, and everywhere the spirits of nature that interfere with the dreams of some unwary traveler.
- certainly in Italy there are many things that do not go, but I think there you will find an ideal world? In America, any asshole can buy a gun to the supermarket, and then you saw them too documentaries of Michael Moore, think only of the health system they have, and tell me if it feels right.
- It 's where you're wrong, I'm not looking for any ideal world, but only for a job. I want to have the opportunity to earn a living with fruits of my work, my research. My lab has closed, and if I say good for the next contest I find myself inside three generations of unemployed people in line for a place. I have thirty-three, do you think I still have time to invent a new job? I spent nine years to become a researcher and now what should I do? Throw out all the air and recycled in a job which I know nothing? I'm sorry, but I will not kill a system that eats the dreams of the citizens and shit eco-monsters of cement.
The machine was spinning faster towards Rome. I drove in silence, savoring the last hours in the company of my friend. I was silent, not to betray the violence of my emotions. Advancing toward the capital, breathed a strong mixture of water, resin and dry grass, and I knew that he would try all the beaches in the smell of America, without ever finding the same, and I also knew that our relationship would continue through the screen of a computer Skype connected. He, too, would become an electronic presence, like other friends before he found a few birthday party over the loudspeaker and the video of a laptop. I knew what he believed in his dream, as he had studied and worked, and how much he had learned what he wanted to leave his job. But his laboratory was closed after two three months, and all his knowledge, would not have been anything to anyone. If it would be taken away, like a precious plant seeds to be planted in a land more fertile, and where he had worked, it would be advanced in the desert.
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