The end of the pain

The first chapters of Stars of dust: A gift for you

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I'm a sleeping dog. Sometimes I bite when someone shakes me.

You can understand much more by the expressions of person than from the words he/she says. A thousand faces who know nothing about the other one, meet each other at the same time, in a thousand places. Who knows how many things they hide from their life, when they meet to lie to each other.

What's the use of knowing each other if it's never enough?

Nobody can help you when you're in needs. It's all dark. Your body doesn't answer. Shadows crawl out of bed like snakes which have bitten you. Loud Laughter beyond the threshold. Insects with pedigree in the hole. Death has never been so close.

Yet that dark lady didn't stop at my prison. Life goes on and someone is suffering about it. It's that bastard who dug my grave with so much sweat.

Things go this way. I have to get used to breathing on fragile balances.

I like to wander following scents which spread in the air. I prefer to eat standing up, maybe for my habit of running, escape. The fear of being pursued leaves me between passions and torments, questions never so clear, but confused.

I love street food. Tanks full of watermelon and lemon. The table of a kiosk along a tree-lined avenue. Paper cones full of olives, potatoes, and chestnuts in winter. And then, die happy in the condominium courtyards, pierced to the heart by the scent of mirepoix for the sauce. I look at the laundry hanging and I smile. They look like flags waving in the wind.

 


Dear customer on Google


Why is a nickname more indicative compared to our name? Personal details are the result of the choice of others. Sooner or later, when we enter the world of work, those letters will become numbers. On the other hand, a nickname is linked to a really happened event or to a personal trait. In a manner of speaking, it reveals our true identity.
In consumer society, where all echoes are adulterated – Karl Marx is the man of chocolate with the caramel layer and Che Guevara has killed Spider-Man – identity becomes a main topic. Keeping it and being involved as little as possible by the obsession with buying, is a primary matter.
Leopoldo Canapone, protagonist of Dear Customer, every day witnesses the procession of customers infatuated by the commercials and promotional offers. He also knoews a lot about nicknames and, above all, he had an identity. Aspiring actor, he was sure in the end he would enter the Cinecittà Studios. He wrong a few hundred meters. Years later, he stamped the card in the supermarket near to the film establishments, but after all, also it was art because, as a sales clerk, he had to wear a mask and smile to the audience.


The customer is a fucked customer and not a fucking customer.


Leopoldo Canapone