Paperolimpiadi
It 's been a year and a half since my last post. I was talking about the lazy writer, but perhaps it is no longer the case.
The truth is that for a while 'time of my life is happy. Not calm, serenity has it who has no worries, have one who does not face the injustices of life, but especially those who can not see beyond their noses. Only a dolt can be fine, I guess.
But I'm happy. And when I'm happy my existential anxiety may fade into the background, Joe Corvo and it remains perched on his branch, detached and aloof, haughty, with a look that says "come back, you'll see." But as long as it stays there, I do not see why bother, to disturb this moment of constructive, determination, desire to change.
I have only this to the wonderful person who changed my life.
And so this blog, which originated as a diary as an open letter to a reader that is not there a single friend that you pass this portion can understand a little 'me ... is neglected. Not because it has nothing to say. Maybe even because there is already someone to say certain things.
But if it is true that melancholy is temporarily away from my reality, melancholia, that never leaves me, it's part of me. It is not a bad thing.
My melancholy was a thrill when one of my oldest memories is back to the surface, and as with the Mysterious Barricades by Couperin sparked in me the desire to seek, to remember better, to retrieve an important piece of my past. Once again, the Internet, this huge database of information of any kind came to my rescue and made me discover and rediscover the ancient flavors of my childhood.
was so I said to myself that I should try to retrieve an old story about Mickey, "Paperolimpiadi", and I finally found it, with a little 'difficult but I found it. And if I have not found before it's just because I've never looked before! It 's just because, as often happens in life, let it slip on the good intentions, there forget it, ignore them out of laziness, we try to convince themselves that are not important. But life is filled with these small and seemingly insignificant things ... I just let me win so often from sloth with joy that I find to do when I do, things work, and everything that works is a wonderful gear that sets in motion all the other wheels.
But back to Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck is that in reality, because let's face it, Mickey Mouse to me I've always been on the shit, shit I was on him and he was on fucking Goofy, with all his great-uncles ... they are on the ducks real engine of Walt Disney! Donald and his bad luck, the small Fantozzi is in everyone. And these beautiful ducks
it is the protagonists of the story, a story that I found not only in my heart and in my memories, but that was by far the longest streak in the history of Mickey Mouse, which has unraveled to as many as 12 numbers, and that is remained nostalgic among us as a milestone.
was 1998, and there were the Olympics in Seoul to make the setting for the story. Olympics that I remember with affection, that I have always hated the sport, perhaps because it was a sporting event that had the strength to stop, albeit temporarily, the tensions between North and South Korea, the student demonstrations. Everyone charged with a stopped, then forgotten, Greece that has united as never before nor after all, a spirit of cohesion and peaceful competition between nations. I do not know if it was really so, or if I see him so I, I trust that the memories of the golden child. I do not know if I speak so just because the events were set at the height of the decade most beautiful in the last century, the magic eighties, many times that I wanted to live not only with the eyes and consciousness of a child. But maybe if I loved it so, that's why I watch them from a very partial point of view.
I want to retrieve this piece of my memories was also because the story lasted so long and so many numbers that I could not read it all. I began to read it by accident when I was traveling with my parents, and by then it was all a try stand, waiting to hear how it was going to end, a pathos and an emotional and affective participation in respect of two small Korean friends Qui Quo Qua that the protagonist of The Neverending Story was nothing in comparison.
That summer we went to Valle d'Aosta, and it was a beautiful experience. It was the summer when I fell in love and pure mountain water and ice coming out of every tap, which in the summer in an era where mobile phones were just fiction, we managed to meet on the road with Hoda, Silvio and Emanuela who were camping in the area. It was the summer of photos of Manu who kissed a frog (ah, how I wanted to be that frog!), The summer lake ice, "but you want the good one that keeps under the counter ", the summer fondue (a nightmare that has haunted me for years and have only defeated last year). The summer that I fell in love with those friends of mine that eventually became my friends. The real ones, the ones that betray you, those with whom you share the bad things, those with whom you can feel an Easter afternoon to speak without ever tiring.
I want to rediscover the joys of comics through the eyes of the adult, for see if it still excites me as before, even read with different eyes, to see if it still moves me when I look like Mary Poppins and the tears flow in cataracts.
And probably also want to indulge in memories of a happy time, indeed, peaceful. A time careless of me baby. A time when we were younger and less tired, a time when the shadow of death, disease, injustice and not weighed on my life (and our) thoughts as they do now. Abandoned but not refugees. He does not want to be an escape from reality to relive a time that is gone and he can not go back ... and that has not ever done for these reasons. But I think that memories are an important background. Citing prof. Lazzarini, time fades, mixes, delete the faces and the faces, creating monsters from mythology features uncertain. Maybe that's why I love taking pictures so much, and I found peace of mind now that I can come back from a trip a week with over 1500 shots.
I do not want to forget, I remember the good things. A to fade ugly ones will take care of the time.
