Some kind of Italy: Mario, Jacopo and the cherry tree.


fratyricon

Inclined as I am to a chronic indolence, I should enjoy those Italian moments, by my own, by my parents-in-law, by the shadowy side of the green, while I am eating cherries.
And I do enjoy them (moments ans cherries), with a sort of intimate delay (should I say I did?), writing down disorderly sketches of my Italian journey.

A different inclination, more courageous, endured the cherry tree since 1994, when a tremendous lightning – out of a memorable storm – hit its log.

Grandpa Mario planted the cherry tree when Cristiana, first of his six grandchildren, was born. Mario, ninety years old, gently and slowly is now heading to his tree, to me and Jacopo, his great-grandchild.

Walked by his daughter, with the aid of a cane, a bit stooped and with humid blue eyes, Mario is looking at Jacopo, somehow lost in his thoughts… thoughts, we can only guess.

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City of Panic. Franco Berardi (Bifo)


The urban territory is increasingly traversed by streams of diasporic, heterogeneous and de-territorialised imaginary. Panic tends to become the urban psychic dimension. It is a reaction of a sensitive organism submitted to a stimulation too strong and too rapid. A reaction of an organism urged by too frequent and intense impulses to be emotively and conversationally elaborated.

What is panic? We are told that psychiatrists recently discovered and named a new kind of disorder – they call it “Panic Syndrome”. It seems that it is something quite recent in the psychological self-perception of human beings. But what does panic mean? Continue reading