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... a story



Today I did not shit to do, or at least I'm not going to do anything .... Assupatevi this tale of Wu Ming (which does not say that I only write shit).


scraped on the wall someone had written SMRT FASIZMU with red paint.
They had lined up front. From
faces not leaked anything. Closed, absent. As the windows of the village.
The captain shouted orders to the company. The Italian soldiers lined up, rifles on their shoulders. Almost all reservists.
The officer was the youngest, manicured mustache and cloth bag gray slanted forehead.
The prisoners looked up to face their tormentors. Be certain that they were men like them. They were accustomed to death, even to his own, addicted to thousands of past generations.
other hand, looking down, feeling reflected in the mirror.
The two rows facing each other motionless as statues abandoned on the lawn.
The captain turned to the houses and ordered the interpreter to come closer.
-inhabitants of this village have given asylum to the rebel communists! The same people who last night were cowardly assassinated two Italian soldiers! You were warned! Anyone who offers asylum to the rebels, offer protection or support anyone is guilty of collaborating and pay with your life! -
when the interpreter had finished, the captain stood, the leather boots planted in the mud, almost expecting a response from the cluster of houses mute.
not a sign of life, even the air was still.
yelled: - Company! Spall'arm! A
sprawl walked the line as if only some had transposed the order and the others were moved accordingly. A gun slipped from his hand, - Order devil pig! Order! -
At that time three soldiers exchanged a nod and turned their rifles. One head of the head and the other two on fellow soldiers.
- without everyone here does not shoot no-
- Capponi what the hell are you doing! Farina, Piras, I send you all the court-martial
The other soldiers were stunned. Raise your shoulders, bewilderment.
- Captain, ground down the gun-
- this is desertion, you're crazy! -
- Farina tossed the gun or shoot you! -
the officer stood, pointed the gun to his head, the teeth of anger. The speed of thoughts oppressed brain.
-captain, left the gun if you let go of the other spoke-whistling: - Capponi, I've always said you were a communist shit. And what do you think eh? And you others?? What the fuck are you standing there?? Want to be shot too?
No one answered. The eyes met without finding a foothold. Nothing to suggest what to do. They knew only that if they disarmed the fellow would have to shoot them with others.
The men were held against the wall staring at the scene.
- the gun-
the officer's jaw was so tight that he could no longer say anything. She took the gun from the holster and dropped it. Capponi
picked it up and stuck it to his belt.
- listen to everyone, who wants to come with us, and Piras Farina I go to the mountains to search for rebels. You do as you like, but as the captain said, if it's easy to get caught our shoot you because you were watching. And you did well because it is killing people is the stuff of carrion. The three recovered
bags and put them on his shoulders.
-romagna a moment ... oh, you've put us in this situation there now and pull out! -
- no friend in this situation has put the Cav. Benito Mussolini. Now everyone decides for himself-
- and no'antri n'do'annamo? -
Farina took the box of ammunition and passed it to him - join us in the mountains -
- by bandits? But they shoot at us! -
capons shook his head - do not you worry that there is no fire-
[..]
Farina made a sign to move Capponi - from romagna .. let the three off-take the path uphill at a brisk pace, Sardinian open at the top of the track. The Roman
, without conviction, after them, stumbling and turning several times.
The other said nothing. Gestures disconsolate. Finally, one after another picked up their packs and walked in single file behind the first.

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partisan "Try to put this, if you can!" MARRAKECH


There was a time long ago when a father of anarchist partisans asked some if they wanted to leave some trace uan in the Constitution that was scrivedo. One of them said, "Try to put this, if you can." And he wrote on a sheet:
"WHEN THE PUBLIC AUTHORITIES violating fundamental freedoms and the rights guaranteed by the Constitution, resistance to oppression is RIGHT And a citizen's duty "
This article, received in the first instance was in 1947 by the cancelation official draft Constitution will stop and consistently the DC and PCI.
but for us it is one law: NOW AND FOREVER
RESISTANCE !

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EXSPRESS (invitation to travel)






Finally someone starts to arrive ...
The train slowly fills up, is not the first time I take the train from Catania, on the contrary. But every time the feeling is the same. pain. Catania gives me sadness, there is nothing I can do a bit ... ' I'm sorry but the city does not tell me anything new, it arouses emotions I'm curious about.
still do not feel inside of me that strange feeling you have before a long journey, I can not describe it well ... but I think it is a melange of sadness, fear, anxiety and hope.
are already waiting for two hours and I'll have to wait another before it reaches the legendary arrow of the south, to Milan. Here I meet Philip and Bob (Pauline ... but I hope I've lost hope) and then straight to the airport for the connecting flight to Marrakech.

Ooohhhhhh ... ... finally the monster comes shod, already seems tired, snorts, takes a breath. You the arrow in the south, the old traveling companion ... who have rocked the southern cold in your legs, how many times you accompanied the dreams and hopes of your guests on the boots ... between the mountains and valleys, snow and meadows.
The journey has begun!!
A chest pain is becoming more acute as a Magone, as a stimulus to vomiting but I know very well what it is, is that feeling you have before you leave, you travel sickness. The smell of engine oil
opens up my nostrils.
The whistles of the train ... the voices of the workers ... the curses of the head station.
within the cabin. The smell is unmistakable. The covers of the seats are the usual ones, green vomit, wrinkled and crinkly. How many times have you consoled that meat ragged and tired? How many times I fell asleep like a baby among those pillows dirty and sweaty.
gallops on the train tracks, seems unstoppable; takes off ... darting between houses and trees ... I do not care of them seems to go straight to the goal, stubborn as a mule and laborious he knows by heart the way home.
The train is cool.
The window has a screen that gives the world. The landscape melts, blends together into one ... you can not taste it ... a victim of the world has been slow speed while you run ... ... darts flights. Towards
Milan to Marrakech.

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We are online

The snow falls flat.

It was a long time that did not happen, I would look to head up the snowflakes fall softly on your face. Many years ago I would have to chase trying to catch the flakes with the mouth. Many years ago!

I look at the car, still, still, petrified. I even tried to turn it on and because I know already that will not start, is the chill of night have locked the wheels, either because basically I want to walk a bit 'under the snow ... get a good walk.

eight o'clock in the morning, do a quick calculation, I should be at work in half an hour, the road is long, it would mean delaying walk for sure and then ... well ... It's snowing!

I think to myself, how I've changed, how the world has changed, ways, people. I am persuaded by a warm sense of melancholy. I think of my youth, my friends. I

forty years, but she seems much more. My wife says that after the many wrinkles that surround me eyes and face make me more mature, attractive you say ... maybe, I do not give anything to even bother, I learned to appreciate over time ....

I walk.

On a wall near the station says "leader" and a swastika.

shudder, but not from the cold with indignation! I think of my grandfather, old and wise. Every Sunday my mother was going to take him home to take us to dinner, I still remember that every time we gather grandfather Franco everyone near him and began an account of the war.

He was a partisan, he told the German tanks of the traps and fascist gangs. Then, every now and then ... stopped a long pause of silence allow time for us to think. Once flashed in the mind of my grandfather's memories of a dear friend of his died in a Fascist ambush, he was moved not cry ... but it was obvious his melancholy and then his eyes were big and shiny, said nothing, looked at me, in the eye, and I knew what he wanted to tell me, what did he send me. He had suffered, suffered, killed by necessity, had gone through the dark moments of our history, had agreed to take over a big responsibility, had staked his life to liberate Italy from hatred when it was sunk.

I picked up his rifle in his youth. The anti-fascist collective

could count on a dozen young people willing and fearless. Every day we gather in the classroom C of the old factory Paluani. Of course it was busy, but our presence did not disturb anyone, and we had no intention of giving up. Leafleting, demonstrations, pickets and yes ... .. sometimes we come up against the fascists.

Yesterday I was in the shower. I thought and thought as it happens a lot in this period. I thought of the events in Genoa, Athens, Copenhagen and Rome.

What do they believe? Where are we heading? Who am I? Why?

Initially I was convinced that it was the classic student protests exploding every year more or less intense "Something like two months maximum and then it's all over! "said the my colleagues. I was not so sure, or at least I hoped it was not so.

Now I am convinced, will weaken the protest but it will never stop. The economic crisis produced a social crisis. The first to realize this and raise their heads are young people, students and temporary workers, and on them that this crisis will become more fierce.

For a moment I feel like returning back through the years, a fire still burns hot inside me, but years of work and obedience enslaved years weakened this fire which is now reduced to a flame.

Today 12marzo 2010, walking in the snow and finally arrives under the seat of my television writing.

police cars surrounding the building. I decide to enter the same in the building through a secondary exit.

Climbing the stairs in the distance I hear the voices of Charles and Fabiana, well! Not surprising since they are the conductors of the news but the problem is that at this time should not go on the air, it is too early, something must have happened.

The television studio is on, you connect with Carlo sent from Bologna. Special Edition says, Italy is in turmoil, war in the streets!

This morning during a spontaneous procession of students and unauthorized cop opened fire on the crowd, killing three activists.

In every city in the country's young people of all ages are coming down in the square. Bins on fire, burned and overturned cars, barricades, and smoke injuries.

Prime Minister has declared a police state, early warning, military reinforcements arrived in the city in revolt. The order is to shoot if necessary.

Groggy I climb the stairs and finish in the records room, the chief greets me but this time there is no time to chide me over the headphones.

am shocked ... I look at my colleagues, I am all ready for connection to the advertising ... coming to an end ... The mail has been advised ... in two seconds will be live.

I look at the clock ... one ... two ... three ... we are on the air!