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When memory fights back

Once upon a time the first people’s hero of Yugoslavia.
Of people and nations now former, at least on paper.
Which should be written, on the following pages, never revised.
Once upon a time Rade Končar, the partisan Rade, the young Končar.
The man who, after spending adolescence and dreams in the name of an ideal of freedom and rights for all, became a symbol, a chapter of history and, therefore, a statue.
To eternal and solemn admonition of the heirs of such a duty against the nostalgia of legalized hatred.
A commitment which should not retreat even a single centimeter, let alone lowering head and guard.
Once upon a time, today, a sixty-five years old man
A fool, perhaps, a sign, maybe.
Further proof of the urgency of resistance to the bitter end.
A wretch soul who followed his own delirium and kicked the noble testimony of the dark past.
Well, according to the last news from Split the statue itself fought back and collapsed on the guy, breaking his leg.
Because memory, when it wants…

Denounce enemy teachers

The far-right party Alternative for Germany started a disturbing initiative.
German students are encouraged to report teachers who express political opinions through the Neutral Schools online portal, a pilot project in Hamburg, with plans to develop the program across the country.
Students can send anonymous complaints on the site about teachers who, in their opinion, are breaking the rules of neutrality by criticizing the party.
As to say...
Because the party can not be criticized.
Because the party is the party of the people and the people are always right.
Because whoever dares to criticize the people's party is against the State and the people themselves.
Because who is against the people themselves, is against the State and the party of the people.
This is why whoever is against the party of the people is not only an enemy of the party, but also yours, of everyone.
Because those who are enemies of all must be reported.
Also anonymously.
Above all anonymous, perhaps with a ni…

Once upon a time there were animals

Once upon a time there were animals.
Once upon a time there were a shark, an elephant and a rhinoceros.
Once upon a time... and then, how did it go on?
Yes, long ago, in a faraway land there were sharks.
Can you remember, the sharks?
Every year, 100 million.
270 every day.
More than 10 per hour today are killed, mainly for the fins.
And what about elephants? Can you remember them?
From January to December in 20 thousand.
Almost 1700 a month.
One every 25 minutes, at this moment, are being slaughtered for ivory.
The rhinoceros? Do you remember those wonderful creatures?
More than 1000 every year in South Africa alone.
Almost 3 per day are drowned, now.
The same happens to many other species and measuring the horrible extermination in human terms it is as if from 1970 we had lost the entire population of Asia.
Once upon a time, there were a shark, an elephant and a rhinoceros.
A long time ago, in a faraway land.
There were…

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Harper Nielsen detention is an honor

Once a time the place to be.
When everybody shout and chat about crazy silliness and lies.
Even if they had to hide their guilt under a popular song.
As a national anthem might be.
Once upon a time those who in the past took the right side of the road.
When all was going on the safe requested path.
Even if they walked on the life and the future of their victims.
As the memory loss of many colonialist governments.
Once upon a time the brave people who still make that choice.
When poor minded politicians and afraid school teachers try to defend their blame using their power.
Even if they did all they can.
As many of their kind did before.
Once upon a time the nine years old Harper Nielsen, who refused to stand up and sing the national words, protesting in the name of Indigenous people and paid the consequences of her decision.
Thank you for your example, young noble girl.

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Lalu Muhammad Zohri story: the champion without shoes

Once upon a time a dreamer.
A boy who could scarcely imagine to buy a pair of running shoes.
A creature whose soul was going so fast to overcome all.
Body’s and hard reality’s limits.
Once upon a time a champion.
The winner of men’s 100m race at the IAAF world under-20 championships at Tampere in Finland.
Once upon a time just an eighteen years old life.
The first Indonesian to win a medal at those tournaments.
But not the very first one to hope for that.
I'm not referring to the podium.
Or the cameras flashes.
Not even the brilliant gold.
Instead, once upon a time a whole world of people who just deserve a chance to run.
And show talents and value.
Be patient, my friend, and lots of them will arrive on the track...

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Thailand cave boys world cup final match

Once upon a time there was a world championship.
Another one…
Where you gets lose, it's viral news, never a good read, let alone to watch.
At the same time, when you survive the final whistle, there will be no autographs on the shirt and photos with dedication.
Nonetheless, this does not mean that you will not cry out of joy, with the cup called life tightly held in your hands.
On the screen, or in the cave, the final is now staged.
In its dramatically stretched extra time.
Because the fate of our planet is a cruel referee and it seems almost to taste in finding every pretext to postpone the road to the blessed shower, where to wash away the bruises of difficult living.
Meanwhile, down there, in the dark, they fight against the usual enemy.
So, run, watch hands, be magnanimous, for once.
Burn away the hours as if they were minutes disguised as seconds.
Since twelve kids, along with their brave trainer, still deserve a lot to play...

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Burning forests in Chile to survive

Once upon a time there was a land.
A region, indeed.
Once upon a time there were brave people.
You might call them Mapuche.
You can call them the natives ones.
But you can surely define them as the resisting creatures.
Defending life’s gifts and what rests of human soul.
In a few words, being one with nature’s perfection.
So, once upon a time in Araucanía, Southern Chile.
When you may sadly see, right now, unacceptable rows of charred pines.
It’s a hugely desperate act, it undoubtedly is.
But it’s maybe the last, only answer.
Like these words explain: “We burned these forests as an act of legitimate resistance against the extractive industries that have oppressed the Mapuche people,” says Hector Llaitul. “If we make their business unprofitable they move on, allowing us to recover our devastated lands and rebuild our world.”

Buy the ebook: Italian short stories, a dual language book

Equality story

You've heard this story.
You've already seen this movie.
We already told this tale, all together, and we've lived it too.
We were all there.
All of us, and we'll be there tomorrow too.
We were Jews in Nazi concentration camps, and in the same place we were Roma people and homosexuals.
Wrong creatures, living mistakes.
We were also women.
Yes, women with the alleged insane idea to be something more than a man...

From Italian short stories, a dual language book

True stories of dreams

So, next Italy’s president will be a female one.
Let’s remove again: the new president will be young.
No... come on, let’s do more: a little girl.
There will be a baby-girl at the head of the Italic nation.
But let’s go forward, continuing to eliminate old stuff.
Enough with the ability to mediate between the parties, since ever historical leaders pride.
The girl child who will guide Italy to the new horizon won’t provide any mediation.
If something is right, it will be so.
And if something is wrong, it will remain so...

From Italian short stories, a dual language book

True life stories

When the heart dies twice.
When the heart dies twice, it means that it lived, twice. And many more have enjoyed the benefits.
Because when the heart dies twice, arithmetic and its rules go out the window.
Because the love that subtracts creates endless empty, but when the operation is the sum, you can call it multiplication.
When the heart dies twice, you may cry as much, but they are defused tears.
They don’t delete smiles and gratitude for received and given gifts...

From Italian short stories, a dual language book

True love stories

My name is Saverio and a smile will be my last word.
Yes, smiling, so I'm gone.
With joy.
Because I have died with it.
I want to emphasize this for my son.
He must not take the burden.
I would like to leave on his shoulders and in his heart all except any weight.
Lightness, this is my inheritance.
Well, I'm not referring to the small legacy he will find in my last will.
He knows that have been no richness in our family.
The levity I would offer as ending credits of my life concerns the bag of thoughts and emotions that will accompany him for the rest of the road.
Life is already itself fraught by heavy luggage...

From Italian short stories, a dual language book