All posts by milaaudaci

L’uomo

Chi vive a sé e si mostra quanto resta,
è come dividesse il giorno in giorni.
E’ un piegarsi squisito a “ciò che resta”,
diviso da natura, senza invidie.

E’ come solo, in altro, vasto vivere,
con verdi primavere e lenti estati amiche,
finché cala veloce l’annata nell’autunno
e ci avvolgono sempre nubi e nubi.

il 28 luglio 1842

Con umiltà,

Scardanelli

 

Le Liriche, Friedrich Hölderlin, Adelphi, a cura di Enzo Mandruzzato

Moto a luogo

Moto a luogo verso
quel tempo e quel luogo
giorno per giorno cose convogliate
sospinte in quella zona
tanto simile a un mare
con alto livello di freschezza
lampeggiante e preciso
fra contorni nebbiosi
tempo e luogo da dire
coi modi del futuro
ogni giorno poggiati
umilmente sul solo
supporto della mente.

da L’osso, l’anima, Bartolo Cattafi, Mondadori, Lo Specchio, 1964

I go love U

– sono andato storto

– contratto a tempo indeterminato

– ho condannato un dente per due

– Tombellamonaca (per Torbella)

– Ogallinagallina

– Dialoghetto nel paese dei Buonanima:

“Giovana, hai saputo che è morto xxx?”

“Chi è? Non lo conosco..”

“Ma come no?! Xxx, quello che faceva sempre elemosina fuori dalla chiesa”

“Ahhh, ho capito, BUONANIMA..”

“Ma che buonanima, Giovana, non gli hai dato mai niente, ma dai, uno di meno..”

“Luciana, ma che dice questo?”

– schei

– “tu prendi la mia bocca” per “non mi fai finire di parlare”

 

 

Dedicato a Alika Ogorchukwu

“With the Harrises presenting mutilated black bodies, (…) was providing another layer of voyeuristic pleasure generated by the spectacle of fragmented black bodies on the edge of life” (p.43)

“When, more specifically, the act of seeing is presented as an act of witnessing violence, and, most specifically, witnessing the conversion of bodies into objects, viewers become parties to a reverse anthropomorphosing. Here those who were previously human have lost their humanity, and the very staging of viewers within the frame reinforces the violence of a dehumanising that dues more than make impossible the category of the human.”

(Samuels, 2006, citato da Mark Sealy in Decolonising the Camera (p.51): Photography in Racial Time)

Le mani nella foto sono mie.

Raccapriccio

Era come se  l’irrimediabile si fosse compiuto:
L’orrore era al suo culmine
Insieme alla disperazione
E allo sconforto.
E ciò che si estendeva
A tutta la mia vita spirituale futura.
Dio allora si era reso introvabile.
C’era un punto nero
Dov’era confluita la mia sorte
Che restava lì
Inchiodata
Fin quando il tempo
Non venga riassorbito dall’eternità.

da Poesie della crudeltà, di Antonin Artaud, Stampa Alternativa, trad. di Pasquale Di Palmo

SSM, the soldier

“After becoming President, I asked some of my bodyguard members to go for a walk in town. After the walk, we went for lunch at a restaurant. We sat in one of the most central ones, and each of us asked what we wanted. After a bit of waiting, the waiter who brought our menus appeared and at that moment I realized that at the table that was right in front of ours there was a single man waiting to be served.

When he was served, I told one of my soldiers: go ask that man to join us. The soldier went and transmitted my invitation. The man stood up, took the plate and sat next to me. While eating, his hands were constantly shaking and he didn’t lift his head from the food. When we finished, he waved at me without even looking at me, I shook his hand and walked away!

One of my soldiers said to me: ‘Madiba, that man must be very sick as his hands wouldn’t stop shaking while he was eating.’ Not at all! The reason for his tremor is another, I replied.

They looked at me weird and I said to them: “That man was the guardian of the jail I was locked up in. Often, after the torture I was subjected to, I screamed and cried for water and he came to humiliate me, he laughed at me and instead of giving me water he urinated on my head. He wasn’t sick, he was scared and shook maybe fearing that I, now the president of South Africa, would send him to jail and do the same thing he did with me, torturing and humiliating him. But that’s not me, that behavior is not part of my character nor my ethics. Minds that seek revenge destroy states, while those that seek reconciliation build Nations.”

From Nelson Mandela’s Memories