"Io sono un essere umano. Mi chiamo Paul Sweezy. Non so di preciso quale è il mio mestiere, so che a volte scrivo e ritrovo pubblicate le cose che ho scritto. Mi pagano per questo, non troppo bene però lo fanno. Ma i soldi sono la parte marginale, il punto principale è che io sono un essere umano e mi chiamo Paul Sweezy. Voi vi chiederete perchè? Perchè credo nel valore della memoria personale, la coltivo e lo faccio con una certa onestà intellettuale. Spero che almeno questo non mi venga negato. Ci sforziamo di ricordare ciò che non vogliamo dimenticare, io ricordo di essere un uomo perchè ho paura di dimenticarlo".
Paul Sweezy non ha più di trent'anni, è un nome importante il suo, ereditato per one case and not by choice by a grandfather who was not that Paul Sweezy. It is not a boy his age, he pulls the evenings until late because the night is still hoping to find a reflection of peace and there is little self-indulgent pity, both of which felt comfortable. When he comes home and says he does for free. Or maybe not vomit. Paul uses his day job, who prostitute the pen for occurrence only useful to make ends meet. In the evening, purifies the conscience trying to see if the mantle of truth there is still some lice to comb through. In reality he only wanted to live their passions, but shyness and a little luck condemned him to this compromise. We suffer a little, but not if it makes a cross. If it does laments the lost freedom in silence. It 's the typical case where a patient man, perhaps too good to be too happy. Diligent, among other things, even if underpaid, the eyes of others believe in what he does. In fact it is more likely to do so out of boredom, or to give satisfaction to the family who took care of a child not to receive sorrows. Paul is a conscientious and diligent person, and this guarantees the cud with his sacrifice of selfishness of those who have given birth. He works in an institution, but not sure if public or subsidized. The next morning he wakes up, puts on nell'ordinarietà of everyday life and suffers stomach pain and vomiting which are not escape if you need to hurry because it is already late for something. The twenty-second of December, one day before the holidays, Paul goes to work, as on other days. It 'Monday, just finished a Sunday shaggy clouds and heavy rains, Paul is now courted by the sun in early winter, and in the Mediterranean city maintains a certain kindness in the way and makes the rigors of winter more bearable. In the mix of rhythms that swallows impatience is time to check himself only in the short distance separating her home from work. His body is less kind of the sun, giving him the twenty-second of December, one step from the festivities, an unexpected concern. A lump as big as a ball, all'altezza delle ascelle. Altre volte avrebbe detto "ma sarà", perché non è uomo che vuole avere preoccupazioni e sotterraneamente desidererebbe sapere di morire solo un attimo prima della propria morte. Ma, sarà il contrasto tra il sole e il vento gelido che sale dal mare, a Sweezy manca invece la forza di minimizzare.
"E se fosse vero? Se io fossi malato, improvvisamente pronto a morire, potrei vivere da ora in poi come se ogni giorno fosse l'ultimo dei giorni?".
Trascinato e offeso dal caracollare del pullman, arriva con tutto il suo carico di pensieri alla portineria. Lo accoglie il signor Colmann, che ha un dito d'ordinanza nel naso e un parlare biascicato in cui mischia la corrività del lavoro with that of its existence. Colmann lived for years in direct contact with the toilet and stole the style, has a shirt open at the front, which pulls the warm reception of heating oil and you can still guarantee some pretensions to be out of play-boy. When Sweezy greets him and asks how it goes, Colmann takes him off guard yesterday by saying that he sniffed petrol and now has a severe headache that does not know how to shut down. Sweezy thinks this is strange, for a fifty, but basically does not make a turn, simply tell him that his hair is slightly out of place. Colmann returns to bow to the front desk while Sweezy up the stairs.
A look from inside the university, looks like a uterus between the marble and carved cement, a maze of granite, where it is so easy to get lost. To repeat this to himself: "I am Paul Sweezy, will not be much but it's still something."
soon as he arrives on the first floor a colleague, tall, bald and tending to the thousands of cards in his pocket and takes him under his arm with his unbearable inflection by high ion begins to put his frustrations on the cross. Every person that passes is a possible target, hunting instead hunger sharpens sharpens distances and languages. But my colleague is right, even if it can not be right because it brings unbearable wear those clothes that betray its unforgivable lack of style. If you ask "who is that?" Will tell you that it is una che ha fatto carriera scopandosi qualcuno e ostenta anche un gesto con la mano, mossa con consumata abilità. Non c'è uno che si salvi, nella pioggia di sale e di fuoco, ma è una pioggia che si ferma un centimetro prima della sua lingua. Sweezy, i primi tempi, si aspettava una sua improvvisa esplosione, qualcosa che somigliasse a un fanculo collettivo verso quel mondo così schifoso e un pò temeva che dentro quella rabbia sarebbe esplosa una follia omicida e che anche lui, innocente, ne avrebbe fatto le spese. Ma c'è reazione e reazione, devi ricordarti chi sei anche se a volte la memoria ti consegna all'ignominia. E il collega ha famiglia da tenere sulle spalle, si lamenta però vanta ponti tra l'opus dei e le farc. Ostenta amicizie so different and you do not know if someone is a dick or dangerous. Or just desperate to have a shred of a machine and air conditioning in summer is a prostitute and has been doing it so long to think that it is also a normal thing. If we stop to talk to people who are newly treated as a whore, makes many of those who bow the knee seem shocks are still intact. Sweezy and can not do more than repeat his name in mind, even if he sometimes gets confused and thinks he's another. One of those who do not have the name on paper. In this jungle remembers your name, do not lose it, is repeated. The leaves, my colleague, because in the end is unbearable quell'inconcludente speak plaintively. And salt, continues to climb in hopes of feeling closer to heaven. On the next floor, two teachers and a classroom squabble over the other accused to be taken by the smallest because it is lower in rank. They look like dogs that bare their teeth for a bone, eyes transfixed behind rectangular lenses. The only difference is the illusion that they belong to different races. "Hello Paul" stop a moment because I'm polite dog, bring a moment by the teeth and then resume the dance of envy. But Paul goes up the stairs go up the more the more you feel alone and this loneliness is not afraid, because it helps him in his purpose. Remember, at least once a day, to be themselves and maybe have the strength to say.
top floor, with an old chair that has experienced a large crucifix. Walk around and masturbating, with thoughtful air of a professor. When Paul passed him, greets him but does not stop. In the compulsion to repeat the gesture, Paul sees a kind of destiny. It 'just that this great onanist is he who holds the whole shebang. But with one hand, the other is committed to restore the truth. He, at least, remember who is once per second, with rapid frequencies away from any pleasure now. Sweezy go away without making too much noise, do not want to disturb the king of hearts. Sale, up on the terrace overlooking the sea and horizon.
onanist, unexploded bombs, dogs and gatekeepers, there's nobody here. Only una linea di azzurro che divora camminando a passi lenti e ripetendo a ogni metro "Io sono Paul Sweezy, io sono Paul Sweezy" mentre all'orizzonte si vedono le sagome di isole lontane. Nel chiarore del vento di boria sembrano tante piccole sirene. E Sweezy cammina, ma non ha in testa quel canto né negli occhi quelle forme, li tiene chiusi e più il passo diventa lento più la voce si fa forte. Gridata, raccoglie la gente sotto, a dieci metri di distanza. Quando lo vedono spuntare sul parapetto pensano già male, qualcuno vuole chiamare i vigili "Presto, fate presto" altri gridano di non farlo, ma Paul non sta facendo niente di male. Non ha voglia di uccidersi, è solo che sta camminando al buio a dieci metri d'altezza e così può concentrarsi better about himself. "I am Paul Sweezy" a gust of wind pushes it down, nothing more than a thump on the ground. The contract collect his face into a smile, no party this year for Christmas at home Sweezy.
Paul Sweezy non ha più di trent'anni, è un nome importante il suo, ereditato per one case and not by choice by a grandfather who was not that Paul Sweezy. It is not a boy his age, he pulls the evenings until late because the night is still hoping to find a reflection of peace and there is little self-indulgent pity, both of which felt comfortable. When he comes home and says he does for free. Or maybe not vomit. Paul uses his day job, who prostitute the pen for occurrence only useful to make ends meet. In the evening, purifies the conscience trying to see if the mantle of truth there is still some lice to comb through. In reality he only wanted to live their passions, but shyness and a little luck condemned him to this compromise. We suffer a little, but not if it makes a cross. If it does laments the lost freedom in silence. It 's the typical case where a patient man, perhaps too good to be too happy. Diligent, among other things, even if underpaid, the eyes of others believe in what he does. In fact it is more likely to do so out of boredom, or to give satisfaction to the family who took care of a child not to receive sorrows. Paul is a conscientious and diligent person, and this guarantees the cud with his sacrifice of selfishness of those who have given birth. He works in an institution, but not sure if public or subsidized. The next morning he wakes up, puts on nell'ordinarietà of everyday life and suffers stomach pain and vomiting which are not escape if you need to hurry because it is already late for something. The twenty-second of December, one day before the holidays, Paul goes to work, as on other days. It 'Monday, just finished a Sunday shaggy clouds and heavy rains, Paul is now courted by the sun in early winter, and in the Mediterranean city maintains a certain kindness in the way and makes the rigors of winter more bearable. In the mix of rhythms that swallows impatience is time to check himself only in the short distance separating her home from work. His body is less kind of the sun, giving him the twenty-second of December, one step from the festivities, an unexpected concern. A lump as big as a ball, all'altezza delle ascelle. Altre volte avrebbe detto "ma sarà", perché non è uomo che vuole avere preoccupazioni e sotterraneamente desidererebbe sapere di morire solo un attimo prima della propria morte. Ma, sarà il contrasto tra il sole e il vento gelido che sale dal mare, a Sweezy manca invece la forza di minimizzare.
"E se fosse vero? Se io fossi malato, improvvisamente pronto a morire, potrei vivere da ora in poi come se ogni giorno fosse l'ultimo dei giorni?".
Trascinato e offeso dal caracollare del pullman, arriva con tutto il suo carico di pensieri alla portineria. Lo accoglie il signor Colmann, che ha un dito d'ordinanza nel naso e un parlare biascicato in cui mischia la corrività del lavoro with that of its existence. Colmann lived for years in direct contact with the toilet and stole the style, has a shirt open at the front, which pulls the warm reception of heating oil and you can still guarantee some pretensions to be out of play-boy. When Sweezy greets him and asks how it goes, Colmann takes him off guard yesterday by saying that he sniffed petrol and now has a severe headache that does not know how to shut down. Sweezy thinks this is strange, for a fifty, but basically does not make a turn, simply tell him that his hair is slightly out of place. Colmann returns to bow to the front desk while Sweezy up the stairs.
A look from inside the university, looks like a uterus between the marble and carved cement, a maze of granite, where it is so easy to get lost. To repeat this to himself: "I am Paul Sweezy, will not be much but it's still something."
soon as he arrives on the first floor a colleague, tall, bald and tending to the thousands of cards in his pocket and takes him under his arm with his unbearable inflection by high ion begins to put his frustrations on the cross. Every person that passes is a possible target, hunting instead hunger sharpens sharpens distances and languages. But my colleague is right, even if it can not be right because it brings unbearable wear those clothes that betray its unforgivable lack of style. If you ask "who is that?" Will tell you that it is una che ha fatto carriera scopandosi qualcuno e ostenta anche un gesto con la mano, mossa con consumata abilità. Non c'è uno che si salvi, nella pioggia di sale e di fuoco, ma è una pioggia che si ferma un centimetro prima della sua lingua. Sweezy, i primi tempi, si aspettava una sua improvvisa esplosione, qualcosa che somigliasse a un fanculo collettivo verso quel mondo così schifoso e un pò temeva che dentro quella rabbia sarebbe esplosa una follia omicida e che anche lui, innocente, ne avrebbe fatto le spese. Ma c'è reazione e reazione, devi ricordarti chi sei anche se a volte la memoria ti consegna all'ignominia. E il collega ha famiglia da tenere sulle spalle, si lamenta però vanta ponti tra l'opus dei e le farc. Ostenta amicizie so different and you do not know if someone is a dick or dangerous. Or just desperate to have a shred of a machine and air conditioning in summer is a prostitute and has been doing it so long to think that it is also a normal thing. If we stop to talk to people who are newly treated as a whore, makes many of those who bow the knee seem shocks are still intact. Sweezy and can not do more than repeat his name in mind, even if he sometimes gets confused and thinks he's another. One of those who do not have the name on paper. In this jungle remembers your name, do not lose it, is repeated. The leaves, my colleague, because in the end is unbearable quell'inconcludente speak plaintively. And salt, continues to climb in hopes of feeling closer to heaven. On the next floor, two teachers and a classroom squabble over the other accused to be taken by the smallest because it is lower in rank. They look like dogs that bare their teeth for a bone, eyes transfixed behind rectangular lenses. The only difference is the illusion that they belong to different races. "Hello Paul" stop a moment because I'm polite dog, bring a moment by the teeth and then resume the dance of envy. But Paul goes up the stairs go up the more the more you feel alone and this loneliness is not afraid, because it helps him in his purpose. Remember, at least once a day, to be themselves and maybe have the strength to say.
top floor, with an old chair that has experienced a large crucifix. Walk around and masturbating, with thoughtful air of a professor. When Paul passed him, greets him but does not stop. In the compulsion to repeat the gesture, Paul sees a kind of destiny. It 'just that this great onanist is he who holds the whole shebang. But with one hand, the other is committed to restore the truth. He, at least, remember who is once per second, with rapid frequencies away from any pleasure now. Sweezy go away without making too much noise, do not want to disturb the king of hearts. Sale, up on the terrace overlooking the sea and horizon.
onanist, unexploded bombs, dogs and gatekeepers, there's nobody here. Only una linea di azzurro che divora camminando a passi lenti e ripetendo a ogni metro "Io sono Paul Sweezy, io sono Paul Sweezy" mentre all'orizzonte si vedono le sagome di isole lontane. Nel chiarore del vento di boria sembrano tante piccole sirene. E Sweezy cammina, ma non ha in testa quel canto né negli occhi quelle forme, li tiene chiusi e più il passo diventa lento più la voce si fa forte. Gridata, raccoglie la gente sotto, a dieci metri di distanza. Quando lo vedono spuntare sul parapetto pensano già male, qualcuno vuole chiamare i vigili "Presto, fate presto" altri gridano di non farlo, ma Paul non sta facendo niente di male. Non ha voglia di uccidersi, è solo che sta camminando al buio a dieci metri d'altezza e così può concentrarsi better about himself. "I am Paul Sweezy" a gust of wind pushes it down, nothing more than a thump on the ground. The contract collect his face into a smile, no party this year for Christmas at home Sweezy.
Gregory Sorgon
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