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Mao di Andy Warhol

Il sistema più efficace per rendere inoffensivi i poveri è insegnare them to imitate the rich.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon - The Shadow of the Wind - pag.187

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work of Christian Boltanski

Appeals for the mother of a victim at work
Andrea died at 23 years old crushed by a faulty machine and insecure . A woman who, since then (2006) never gave up. "But I have seen many defeats, remained only a lot of pain on the shoulders of families. And the situation does not improve"
Graziella
Marot Marot Graziella Here is the letter that a mother of Andrea Gagliardoni, published on his Facebook page

Andrea had 23 years when, June 20, 2006, stayed with his skull crushed by a pad printing machine not up to standard. Andrea wanted to learn to play the trumpet, as if the guitar alone went close. Because of the size you want at that age it widens and you're no longer in your shoes by the desire to get tested, know, look forward. From there in four days even the square footage of his life would have risen abruptly, from his room as a boy in her parents 'home in a small apartment, purchased by her with a mortgage, halfway between Porto Sant' Elpidio, and the factory Asoplast Ortezzano, where he worked as precarious for 900 € per month.

Andrea wanted to learn to play the trumpet, but did not make it in time: a trumpet, where he remained in his room, it sounds a deafening silence. Neither was able to inhabit the apartment: she had to enter into a new house Saturday, June 24, 2006, he left June 20 to four years ago. Today Andrea was 28 years but died in the factory at six ten last spring morning. And played guitar with Breakdwn Nervous and would not give his name to a scholarship. It would be the joy of his mother Graziella
and not the reason for his battle with neo Knight of the Republic, for safety culture. A battle ended with a painful defeat in the name of the child and on behalf of the many died at work, without justice: Umbria-Oli, Molfetta, Thyssenkrupp, Mineo .... Most stations are only told of the Cross daily, for a while 'call Italian outrage in the collection, which then looks away.

The deaths are being felt, but the sentences much less when they are silent for a kind of uncomfortable to accept and communicate. Those responsible for this horrible death were sentenced to eight months off with suspended sentences, even if the Attorney General of the Court of Fermo had spoken "a clear signal that such crimes are penalized with the utmost severity." Andrea was killed for the second time. The tragedy ended in obscurity, with some phrases made and unmade, like should not happen again, enough of these killings, we will work to improve safety. Words full of good intentions, which spillo della smemoratezza buca in un momento. Parole al vento!

Alla fine anche Andrea si è perso tra i morti da stabilimento e da cantiere: martiri del lavoro che fanno notizia il tempo di commuovere, che non promuovono ronde per la sicurezza, spesso rimossi pure nei processi. Tragedie quotidianamente dimenticate da un Paese ignavo e incurante, La tromba silente di Andrea a suonare la sua ritirata. Questo è quanto accade a tutti i morti sul lavoro; di loro restano solo dolore e angoscia dei familiari ma giustamente questo non fa notizia: una mamma che piange tutti i giorni, che guarda sempre la porta di casa aspettando che il suo Andrea rientri perché spera che tutta la sofferenza che sta vivendo sia solo un brutto sogno..... Ma tutto ciò non importa a nessuno!

Questa è la tragica realtà, di chi rimane e si rende conto di essere emarginato e dimenticato da tutti. Forse ciò che gli altri non conoscono è la realtà del "dopo" di queste tragedie… La vita per i familiari viene stravolta dal dolore e dalla mancanza della persona cara, ti ritrovi a lottare giorno per giorno per sopravvivere e se sei forte riesci in qualche modo a risollevare la testa da quel baratro di depressione in cui sei caduta, altrimenti sprofondi sempre di più! Ti accorgi che sei lasciato solo a te stesso…. manca il sostegno psicologico, sono assenti tutte le istituzioni e nessuno è disposto ad ascoltare il tuo dolore perché il dolore fa paura a tutti! Speri nella giustizia ma questa si prende beffa di te perché otto mesi e sospensione della pena per chi ha ucciso tuo figlio mi sembra una vergogna per un paese che si definisce civile…..

E vogliamo parlare dell’Inail, questo ente che ogni anno incassa milioni di euro? Ebbene la morte di Andrea è stata calcolata 1.600 euro e cioè rimborso spese funerarie, allora mi chiedo ma la vita di mio figlio che è stato ucciso a soli 23 anni, per la società non valeva nulla? Eppure io quel figlio l’ho partorito, l’ho amato , curato e protetto per 23 anni, era il mio orgoglio e la mia felicità e quindi tutto diventa assurdo e inaccettabile. Nemmeno l’assicurazione vuole pagare il risarcimento e a distanza di 4 anni e mezzo dovrò subire ancora violenze psicologiche tornando di nuovo in tribunale e ripercorrere ancora una volta questa tragedia…. descrivere come è morto Andrea, come lo hanno trovato i colleghi di lavoro, come ho vissuto dopo e come continuo a vivere oggi… Credetemi una pressione che non riesco a sopportare più.

Per terminare anche l’amministrazione comunale di Porto Sant’Elpidio si rifiuta di dare una definitiva sepoltura al mio angelo. Allora mi chiedo e lo chiedo a voi: la vita di un operaio vale così poco? E’ un essere umano come tutti e se per i soldati morti in “ missione di pace” si fanno funerali di Stato, per i 1300 operai che muoiono ogni anno per la mancanza di sicurezza, cosa viene done? Anything because we do not know name ... these are just numbers that are part of a statistic.

I end this letter with a desperate plea: stop this massacre that serves only to enrich entrepreneurs and destroy families. Every human being has the right to life and you can not miss it for 900 € per month.

(January 30, 2011)

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Anselm Kiefer - Abendland

Days pass. Slams the sailing vessel.
is breaking the top. We have not watered the trees. Last year
dried up - or a fruit or a leaf.
The women are aged in a hurry. Small
snails climbing the walls. One day we went down
to clean, a good time, well - nothing;
a coolness and a bunch of dull rusty buckets.
pulled them out one by one. The well was drained.

Ghiannis Ritsos - Delays

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They say the trees can be transformed into goblins, and they too, like men, fear the tickling.
If you push a stick into the hole, the tree starts to laugh.

Gao Xing Jian - The mountain of the soul - pag.142

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work of Van Gogh

The music is beautiful. From the cradle of the times we (the Jews) we tried a new way of speaking. We often take the blame for the treatment received during a horrendous misunderstanding of history. (Words mean what ever we want it to mean.) If we communicate with something like the music will never be misunderstood, because in music there is nothing to understand.
This was the origin of the chant the Torah and probably Yiddish - the language most of all onomatopoeic.
It 's also the reason why most of our elderly people, particularly survivors of a pogrom, hum so often, indeed, apparently never cease to sing, as they are determined to prevent the arrival of silence or any linguistic meaning.
But until we find this new way of speaking, until we find this new way of speaking, until we find a vocabulary does not approximate the nonsense words are the best thing we have.
Jonathan Safran Foer - Everything Is Illuminated - pag.242

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The big snow First snow early this morning. The okra, green
took refuge under the trees.

Second, around noon. There are not
color
the needles of the pines
Falling snow also at times more dense.

Then, towards evening
The scourge of light froze.
shadows and dreams have the same weight.

A little 'wind
writes with his toe a word out of the world. Yves Bonnefoy

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by Anastassia Elias

There were moments, just like the one in which Olive is a clear desperate force with which every inhabitant of this world fighting to get what he needed. For most of them it was a sense of security in the sea of \u200b\u200bterror that was becoming increasingly existence. The people thought that love would provide that assurance, and maybe it was true
Elisabeth Strout - Olive Kitteridge - pag.298-299

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opera do Do-Ho-Suh

Come dice, scusi? cosa volevano i sindacalisti rivoluzionari? E volevano la rivoluzione. Adesso a lei magari sembra un'enormità — “E che sono, le Brigate rosse?” -- ma mica erano i tempi di adesso. Lei ci doveva stare allora e ci doveva stare nella parte dei poveri però, mica in quella dei ricchi. Lei se era povero non aveva nessun diritto. Solo lavorare e ringraziare Dio, se glielo davano da lavorare; perché era difficile pure quello. Erano piene fino all’orlo le navi che da Napoli o da Genova partivano tutti i giorni per le Americhe. E tante erano carrette. Lei non ha idea di quante ne sono affondate, di quanta gente non s’è saputo più niente e di quanti- convinti di andare in Canada — si sono ritrovati in Argentina o addirittura in Sicilia. Tornati a casa. E le terze classi lei nemmeno se le sogna. Cameroni unici e promiscui per maschi e femmine, i bisogni dentro un vaso come il bugliolo in galera, e ogni mattina in giro a raccogliere i morti di stenti e a buttarli a mare e poi, una volta che eri pure riuscito ad arrivare vivo la — in Nordamerica - trattato a calci nei fianchi. Lavoro nero e fuorilegge. Chiedevi un aumento? Ti ammazzavano di botte. E se per caso invece cadevi da un’impalcatura sui cantieri e morivi — ma anche se non morivi subito, e magari con qualche cura ti potevi salvare - ti mettevano on a van and you were going to throw in the country into a ditch, "Who we have seen we have seen." Mica could run the risk that the Inspectorate did fine. As it says, please? who did the other day even here with us? And I'm saying, I?
Antonio Pennacchi - Channel Mussolini - p.34-35

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Granace Lucas the Elder - The fountain of youth

He stopped again, this time in a square, where he recognized some homes, and recalled the struggles and controversies, the lively events that had accompanied their rise. I think the friends of youth; had been his childhood friend, he knew them personally or in name only, that they were his age or older, all the rebels who wanted to give birth to things and new people, here or in any other spot where ' he had lived. Now those homes, the hats as good old-fashioned aunts, who were there in the afternoon light began to fade already, so dear and unimportant, and not at all exciting. Journeyed to smile. But those who had left behind these remains now without pretension, meanwhile, had become professors, and celebrity names, some well-known reputation of progress, for a more or less long been clouded by the joints were solid.
Robert Musil - The Man Without Qualities - pag.126

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Lucas Cranach the Elder - portrait - detail

Verses, Verses 2


shouting verses as bayonets INASTI
ways that threaten the order
formed and in their few feet
make the revolution or the overthrow,
verses useless, false, boastful, because no
today to topple the regimes can no
to mobilize the masses.
(What masses? Just between us:
who cares about the masses?
A maximum of one personal redemption,
if not a promotion.)
why I'm not writing to provide more
fucili di carta
armi di parole, di sproloqui vuoti.
Mi basta sollevare un angolo di verità
fare un po’ di luce nella nostra vita falsificata.
Finché potrò, finché resisterò
Titos Patrikios - da La resistenza dei fatti

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Ognuno s’abituava all’agonia del suo vicino,
la mente tesa alla propria sopravvivenza,
ridotto a farsi singolo per non morire.
Luce D'Eramo - Deviazione - pag.268