Milan city closed. In Milan, missing two weeks and the different contexts in order to arrive in the spring.
colors for years are no longer the same, hiding behind fake calls to
safety and legality.
Milan has never been yellow or red as the sun as the sun set over the sea.
Milan is sometimes white, when only the snow can make us forget that
everything, really everything around us is gray.
Because if once the fog was making fun of colors, if
Milan was hidden by the smoke of the ships, where the dialect bound rather than divide ...
now no longer the case. The colors are gone, they were lost in the gray.
is not the fault only of harmony, of our eyes, of our thoughts.
The truth is all on one side, for once the truth is extreme.
Milan is a safe city brethren. Finally
nothing and no one can hurt us. Now the last step will be advised to stay at home,
no more out. Every one in his own, without communicating vessels.
not speak with even more closely, even if white and Catholic
heterosexual. For peace of mind no longer have to listen. Dance. Love.
Breathe. Thinking.
That's the message we need to pass in a period of
campaign. Milan do not want to have fun.
Not only can we not, want not. We close
the unions to culture, we find excuses to close local
not give value to the notes, words, colors.
Milan is gray and must remain.
Milan does not need anything, already has its money and its values.
Milan is a city without memory.
Chiudiamoci at home, close the case.
At this point, just when everything will be removed and the skeleton
us realize what we have and especially what is not there anymore. Without
false claims without artists and revolutionaries, we must do, starting
is, think back. Each one with its own head, without a single thought
unique and collective.
I have always believed that if they all fuck di ciò che accade attorno sinchè
non viene intaccato il proprio orticello, fino a quando il cane del vicino non
ci piscia sulla staccionata. E' il personale a far del male.
A volte non bastano le restrizioni, a volte serve solo la sana prepotenza a
risvegliare l'indignazione.
Sai cosa c'è? Che secondo me Milano non è grigia e morta e che se voglio,
se vogliamo, fuori da queste cazzo di finestre, dalle nostre case chiuse
arriverà la primavera. Con lei torneranno la musica, i colori e poi ancora la
musica e i colori e allora forse potremo sentirci sicuri senza uomini in
divisa pronti a chiuderci in casa.
Sai cosa ti dico? Che forse è meglio smetterla di parlare, to pretend
thinkers and start doing something useful not only in our backyard.
