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Just a few years ago, and Ezio Mauro Eugenio Scalfari , on the occasion of the death of Gianni Agnelli, he recalled the gigantic figure of twentieth-century Italian man, a symbol of an era and epic.

of him everything from family events to the battles of captain, from the political (in a context that had somehow contributed to) the family misfortunes, the weaknesses and contradictions of man.

a man deeply admired Kennedy and Kissinger who was able to distinguish capitalism from the great failure that the ultimate consequences of a relentless system could be determined. A man, sum up, of which today feels terribly missed.

more so these days, when the arrogance and the arrogance of an industry now headless like Fiat (the young Elkann is a diaphanous figure grossly overshadowed by the royal hawk and racketeering Marchionne), looking towards the globalization of own profit, ends up transformed into rage against three workers guilty of having defied a protest with the relentless race to the overproduction no extra cost (direct legacy of that Pandora's box that capitalist system is the matrix of Eastern Europe).

Three laid-off workers on suspicion of three trucks have blocked the production line during a strike (as they are distant memories of the occupied factories, or of women and men who died during protests workers) and reinstated by the national working in the factory SATA Melfi (PZ).

And to think that this factory is the most eloquent of a mixed public-private investment, which led to work in those wilderness of southern Italy but has lost the very memory of his DNA, an industry group created by public funding and that does not recognize a ruling of the court. Already, because Today, the three workers are due back to work at 14 with the police and with their lawyers and court bailiff in tow, because he had been told not to go to the factory because so much would be paid anyway until definitive pronouncement of the Judicial sull'ennesima opposition made by the Lingotto.

Returning yes, but without a function, stripping of their identity as workers and oppressed beyond all limits.

I can not remain silent. No.

One because that is a fact about my land.

Two results of this because I believe in the capitalist system "in the principle of communicating vessels between economies at different longitudes "sinks centuries of conquests and trade union demands.

Three behind all this because I read the worst failure of Berlusconi-business system that is infesting the national economy with all the worn-led antigiustizia.

E four, if I may, because I start to get tired and, as I said in another post , I believe in freedom as the antidote to fear.

And I feel free.

That works .. . even with my money.
But not in my name.

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Not in my name Do not you trust me?

Yesterday, a day in the land of Pollino.

The occasion was offered by the party with their parents on the sidelines of a scout camp which was attended by my eldest son. Obviously, the emotion was very strong in the hold them again after eight days away from home, lived in a "limit" as a scout is expected to experience.
During lunch, my puppy (ten years but for me remains the pisolotto ever), I said, 'Dad, if you come with me into the woods I'll show you something. "
I felt sad because my little man was looking for complicity with his father's eyes denouncing mixed emotions ranging enthusiasm to the party required to share a puppy of a man looking in the father.

"Let's go!" I said with an air of pride.
We walk in a beautiful grove of Farnetti, elegant and sinuous for the short slender stalks that flood plain of the refuge, the glint of sunlight raining down through thick foliage, an essential and useful to generate a minimal shadow. After all, this seems to be just the charm of a wood Farnetti.
At one point, while the leaves dry out loud trampling of the undergrowth, my little breaks, "Close your eyes and give me your hand." I did it, how do you usually with small children when you want to grant will remark the pleasure of the adult.

After twenty steps with eyes closed, but the thing is complicated.
'missing much? "I asked. "No. But do not open your eyes, "the answer.
"Could it be that I'll run into a tree?" I pointed out, fearing the worst, not being accustomed to walk in the woods with your eyes closed.
"Do not you trust me? Can not you see I'll take your hand? ".
Ten years, 1.40 tall, 53 kg, black eyes, black hair, olive complexion. I remember when I kept her up at night to sleep and indomitable constantly in search of food. Little man holding his hand to me yesterday asking me for the first time to trust him.
And the mind is racing to Levi-Strauss and the rites of passage of the Aboriginal population, roughly the age of my son, leave the boys alone in the woods at night because they become adults. The rite of passage that will make the child a man so consumed in nature and is exposed to risks it may present. In the morning, that puppy becomes a man and can drive, work, providing food for the family clan, plan the emotional life and its dimension of "adult".
Yesterday I heard for the first time my son as a small adult (allow me the oxymoron) and I was happy. Also because the ceremony took place just as in nature to the aboriginal peoples of Africa Central and South-because I felt that I could start having to trust him.

And I? I kept my eyes shut until we reached an artificial wall of wood where you could climb to exercise (his memory was gone when we tried it with a lot of fun on a cruise ship six years ago).

The strong emotion that I carry in the hand is not so fine a boy who goes with sure-footed grip and the other, taking "responsibility" to lead them to a destination.

Solidarity and / is responsible.

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How nice to think ...

Recently, I was often alone.

However this time it is the loneliness that I want to talk.

Far from everything and everyone I have found the right mood to work, to read, to listen to my music, to go out suddenly for a coffee at the bar, to stroll among the people: even the courage to strumming the guitar with joy.

photographic memories and I walked through the alleys of the old center of my city, never quite finding enough. The morning sun and fresh air evening offered solace to the heart, ever so slight a long time.

And then the thought has reconstructed many pieces of my life that some have combined "freedom", without criteria and without any order, an internal logic that governs the structure.

And suddenly everything became clearer. And that is why everything has become more bearable.

What should reserve this summer I would never have said. Taken as I was by the anxieties (often unfounded) of everyday life, events, conflicts had lost its sense of direction for myself.

Somehow I thought the sea and what they are, I heard from friends who did not feel much, I wrote, sang, danced. I discovered how many people love me and that I often end up neglected. But above all I

much thought, abandoned to the rhythmic beat of peaceful intimacy finally balanced.

How many reflections that I wanted to stop in a post but after I settled in well as the dreams have vanished at dawn. But I also know that, just like the dreams of the morning, leaving us in feelings, moods, passions, and to determine the mood of the day.

And I realized that thinking was possible only away from the worries and the daily routine, a new management of my time I returned the sense of my life and gave me an inner peace that I had lost long ago.

accomplice in all this, the silence. The silence I read the post 365 364 sunrises sunsets which borrows a reflection from a sharp Stefano Benni: the exploitation of that silence, which comes from the words and that is a prelude to life. A necessary silence, whether a moment or an hour, as long as you turn into an opportunity for life and not in a blackout.

And the silence and solitude I also have to rediscover the profound sense of freedom. Discover yourself, what you are, what you are capable, they are a freedom-enhancing features that can meet others who accepts the other's thoughts and not the complaints, and that does not separate approaches.

In the silence and solitude I re-discovered love, the true one, that deep, which feeds the infinite and profound stillness.

E 'was great to meet me.

They are also missing, in the light of awareness, so many fears. Have dissolved many many fears and insecurities have evaporated. Find that each of us is a universe that is a value that can never be questioned. From anyone. The assets that we bring in is the gift of life and existence product, constantly evolving and constantly exposed to the crossfire of existence. Protecting this heritage is the most significant gesture of strength, freedom and love for themselves, that secures and strengthens the step in a complex and hard to face but that the strength of women and men who have the courage to keep your back straight can improve. Just as wisely concludes an enlightened editorial Ezio Mauro in La Repubblica on 23 July entitled "Sludge Factory " incitement to withstand the difficult times that we live in, finding the strength to still appalled and having the courage to inguistizie their ideas, "thus demonstrating that freedom is stronger than fear" .

I still believe.

for me.

For my children.

For those who love me and the person I love.