#cloache
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Lombardy Landings? - On the 80th anniversary of the Normandy landings, four Italian TV networks (Rai1, Italia 1, Rete 4, La7) mixed up the two regions. Were these "journalists" reading the same script despite working for different channels? Yes, that's the only logical, and disconcerting, explanation. As to historical knowledge, that's not a requirement for Italian newsreaders, obviously. @LauraRuHK
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swimming upwards towards heavan
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To be human part 3
Rottmnt Leo x reader, gender neutral, friends to lovers, meet cute, apologetic Leo
Part 1, part 2
Summary: Leo has the biggest crush on you but he's afraid that you'd never date a mutant, so with the help of a clooking broach he plans to become your perfect human boyfriend!
☆
Really struggled with this chapter I'm so so sorry if it's bad!!
Tag list!!
@lunaflyer @wings-of-sapphire @ssak-i @nessarolla-in-constant-flux @envyjmoney @leonardo-dabitchy @wookiesmiles-blog @sloppy-syrup
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Leo had never actually been to this basketball court before, he knew of it, had maybe seen it in passing a few times but it was always too busy.
Too risky.
But today that wasn't an issue, he didn't have to worry about getting confused glances from others, today he was one of them. He had the cloaching brooch safely tucked under his hoodie, fidgeting with it from time to time from a mix of anxiousness and excitement.
He knew this was a pretty popular park for teens his age, it was mostly students who hung out here and it didn't take much for him to start making a friend or two. His basketball skills were flawless, using his best moves to win over a couple kids at the park was definitely helping his ego.
Though he made sure to keep an eye out for Y/N, knowing that they hung around here sometimes, they'd have to show up some time soon.
Meanwhile he could just keep embracing being a cool ass human. Lev was the name he'd given himself, it would've been insanely obvious if he'd kept his own name, he wasn't that stupid. It had felt weird at first, introducing himself as someone he wasn't. But he couldn't deny that it was beginning to grow on him as he heard other people use it.
Leo, or rather, Lev let out a satisfied huff as he confidently passed the ball, still riding this confidence boost. He looked amazing and his charms were working on everyone! Just wait until Y/N sees him now.
"Ow!"
A basketball in the face.
That was the cherry on top of Y/N's crappy day.
As if they hadn't already regrettably slept through their alarm that morning, which made them miss their school bus and forget their lunch. Then once they had finally arrived to class, their teacher had decided to give them a surprise test that they knew they'd flunked. Now they had to suffer the embarrassment of a basketball being thrown their direction.
Unlucky.
They cringed at the pain bringing their hands up to their face. The stray ball had hit them hard, but luckily no blood stained their hands.
"Oh mi gosh! I'm so so sorry- Are you okay?" A voice asked, from afar.
"Yeah... I'm okay just a bit-" Y/N hesitated as they finally met the concerned strangers gaze, "-dizzy..."
As they looked up to him he was giving them a sense of deja vú. His apologetic expression gave off a sort of familiarity but they couldn't exactly place it. Maybe it was the dizziness they were feeling from the impact of the ball, but the soft look of concern across his face made their heart flutter a little.
"Hey? Hello? Still with me?" He asked anxiously.
Y/N blinked realising they'd just been staring blankly up at the worried stranger, his voice snapping them back to reality.
"Yes- yep- I'm still here." They assured sheepishly in reply, glancing away.
He let out a relived sigh before chuckling softly, "Lost you for a second there huh? I don't blame you, that was a hell of a hit," His voice was calm with a friendly air to it, weirdly comforting though again that may have been due to the head trauma.
"You sure you're okay?" He asked again.
"I'm alright," They assured, the dizzy sensation leaving them for now, "Only thing bruised is my ego."
He let out a small chuckle, glad to hear them sounding alright.
"I'm sure your ego will recover soon enough," he smiled, "Luckily, I don't see a scratch. Phew, wouldn't want to hurt such a pretty face."
They blinked at the sudden compliment, the words echoing in their still slightly dizzy head, unsure if he was being serious or not.
"Pfft- are you trying to make me forget that you just almost gave me a concussion?"
"Me? I would never..." He hesitates, glancing away sheepishly as they call him out, "But, if I was... would it work?"
They roll their eyes in a playful manner and shrug, "Maybe try starting with an apology."
He chuckled, as they playfully chastised him.
"Right, right,"
He smiled sincerely, a mix of embarrassed and genuinely sorry, jokingly getting onto his knees.
"I humbly apologise to..." He glanced up to them, prompting for their name.
"Y/N."
"I humbly apologise to Y/N, for accidentally launching a basketball into your pretty face," He finished, his tone light-hearted, though they could tell there was a hint of sincerity behind his humor.
"Seriously though, I am sorry, I'm not really used to playing basketball with such a large audience." He admitted gesturing to the court, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he stood up straight.
"Don't worry about it," They replied calmly, pretty charmed by his playful attitude.
As they looked back to him, something about his face felt weird. Like they'd met before, however as much as they tried Y/N just couldn't place him.
"You know... I don't think I've seen you around here before, what's your name?"
He looked surprised for a moment, a flicker of panic crossing his face before he quickly schooled his expression into a casual smile.
"Lev, I'm Lev."
"It's weird, I feel like I kn-" Y/N's words were immediately interrupted by a sudden hit of pain, apparently this concussion decided to have a delay, "Ow- ow!" They winced, clutching their head.
Lev immediately took notice of Y/N winced in pain, his concern growing tenfold. "Hey, take it easy. You took a pretty hard hit."
He gently placed a hand on their shoulder, trying to steady them, "Are you okay? Should I go grab ice?"
Y/N bit their lip as they tried to deal with the pain. The world around them started to seem a little too bright and they squeezed their eyes shut.
"Y-yeah, yeah I'm fine-" They murmured, their voice shaking slightly, "Ice would be good."
Lev nodded, quickly standing up his mind racing as he did. What a way to make a first impression, 'Hey Y/N here's a bonk on the head, wanna go out with me?' he was such an idiot! He instinctively went to grab his odachi but paused as he realized it wasn't there.
Right.
Leo had the odachi, he wasn't Leo right now he was Lev.
~
Lev had offered to walk them home during the commotion, he figured it was just a headache from the impact but he wanted to be completely sure they were okay.
As well as take the opportunity to talk with them.
Y/N was steadying their breath, pressing cold bags of store bought ice against their forehead. The pain was slowly numbing while the pair took a seat on the steps outside their apartment block.
Y/N didn't understand why but Lev clicked so easily with them, they were always on the same page.
It was refreshing to actually relate to someone for once.
"And after all that, she decides to throw a surprise test at us! Last time I checked, surprises are supposed to be fun," They huffed angrily, "Ugh, I'm sorry for throwing all this your way."
"Hey, don't worry about it. Sometimes you just need to let it all out, y'know?" Lev offered, a gentle smile across his face, "Besides, I threw a basketball at you, you're just returning the favour."
"Pfft, I didn't think of it like that." They admitted with a chuckle.
A warm smile slowly started to form on their lips, this stranger had made them laugh today even after everything else that had happened.
Who knew that all it took was getting hit in the head with a basketball?
"You know, I'm honestly kind of surprised that you've been this patient." They noted with a light chuckle, "Most people don't like listening to whining."
"Well..." Lev hummed, hesitating a little before he finished his sentence, "I'm not like most people."
Y/N lifted an eyebrow, a curious look spreading across their face, "Oh? And how's that?" They asked, their curiosity piqued, "Are you a vampire or something, stranger?"
"Pssh, first of all vampires are a total scam," He replied with a laugh, "What's the point of being sexy for all eternity without being able to see your reflection?"
Y/N grinned, a laugh escaping as his response, "Sounds like someone talking from experience."
He simply rolled his eyes softly, "And second, stop calling me stranger my name is Lev you know."
"Well, you are technically a stranger."
"Come on, we're at 'basketball bonking' levels of friendship." He retorted with a playful tone.
"Ooh, nice alliteration." They teased smugly in reply.
Lev's expression brightened, smiling hopefully back at them, "Nice enough for me to be a friend?"
Y/N pretended to consider it for a moment, they hummed thoughtfully before finally shrugging and nodding,
"An acquaintance." They answered with a smirk.
"Ahh, there's no winning with you." Lev sighed in mock offence.
"What can I say," They grinned teasingly "I'm hard to please."
A bit of water began to drip down Y/N's face, the ice was melting quickly.
"Doesn't seem like that ice is going to last a while."
Y/N frowned as they noticed some of the cold water trickle down their face. They let out a slight huff, knowing that their source of comfort was quickly melting.
"Yeah, I guess not."
Another drop landed on their nose, and Lev couldn't help but chuckle at the way it made them blink in surprise.
"I should probably head inside."
"Right, you can get some ice that isn't melting." Lev nodded casually in an attempt to hide the wave of disappointment that crossed his face.
He genuinely wanted to talk to them, that was... cute.
"Exactly," They smiled in reply as they stood up from their seat and Lev followed, "Thanks for taking care of me."
"I mean... it was kinda my fault in the first place." He mumbled, the regret evident in his voice.
"Hey stop beating yourself up about that," Y/N scolded in a gentle tone, "I know it was an accident." They assured.
"Besides, I really enjoyed talking with you." They added honestly.
Lev's eyes lit up at that, their confession making a warm smile spread across his face.
"Really?" He asked, trying to bite back the eagerness in his tone, though it seeped through easily.
Y/N chuckled and nodded in reply, "Yeah, I'll see you around right?"
Lev nodded brightly, "I promise no basketballs will be involved next time." He grinned.
"Noted." They said with a small laugh, turning to open the doors to their apartment complex.
They gave him another soft smile, their eyes holding his gaze for a moment.
Lev smiled back at them, a twinge of relief and a hint of flattery on his face as he watched them turn to leave.
A part of them didn't want him to leave, they just wanted to stay and chat for a bit longer.
But another part was reminded of the pain in their head, yeah it was time to go inside.
They gave a small wave to their newly found friend as they entered the building.
"Bye Lev."
"Bye."
#Spotify#rottmnt leo x reader#rottmnt#rottmnt leo x you#rottmnt tbh#rottmnt to be human#rottmnt x reader#rottmnt x y/n#rottmnt x you#tbh#rottmnt leo#rottmnt leonardo#rottmnt leo x gn reader#meet cute#rottmnt fanfiction#rise leo#rise leo x reader#rise leo x you#rise leo x y/n#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rise of the tmnt#rottmnt leo x y/n#rottmnt leo x oc#rottmmt x gn reader#gn reader#gender nuetral#rottmnt x gender nuetral reader#rottmnt leonardo x reader#rise tmnt x reader#rise tmnt
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Ufficializzata finalmente l'apertura delle fogne, o cloache, per meglio dire.
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Tutta l'hybris della guerra si riassume in quell'autorizzazione all'omicidio che a un certo punto, in una società normalmente ben regolata secondo i pacifici criteri borghesi, viene da un giorno all'altro concessa ai suoi cittadini più volenterosi dall'autorità ufficiale: ecco, adesso puoi uccidere, anzi, ti diamo pure il confetto del buon Gesù se uccidi quelli giusti! Non ha importanza chi ha ragione, di casus belli è piena la storia, a un certo punto, semplicemente, è un libera tutti, e una volta slegata la bestiola impossibile distinguere con chiarezza tra soldati e civili, tra innocenti e colpevoli, un buon pretesto si trova sempre per accoppare in nome della ragion di stato. Ma questo è solo il primo livello, la prima linea, se così si può dire, perché dietro le linee, opportunamente a distanza, si agitano tutti i rancori dei pacifici cittadini che evacuano quotidianamente i loro sterco nelle cloache dei social network: dagli al russo! dagli all'ucraino! dagli a quel carognone d'un libanese! dagli all'israeliano! abbiamo l'intelligence più dritta del mondo! due a uno per noi! Gratta gratta, ci vuole un niente per riscoprirsi quelli di sempre, alla faccia di tutti i solenni proclami di civiltà.
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Una coppia di colombacci uniscono i loro corpi nell'estasi suprema che è propria dell'idillio dell'amore
Mentre ero a correre, due bellissimi colombacci, appollaiati uno accanto all’altro su un cavo del telefono, hanno attirato la mia attenzione. Il maschio si piegava di lato e strofinava testa e becco sulla testa della femmina, un pochino più piccola di lui. Incuriosito da queste dolci effusioni, mi sono fermato e ho osservato la femmina ricambiare il gesto affettuoso.
Pochi secondi dopo, la femmina si sporge decisamente in avanti, mettendosi in posizione quasi orizzontale. Il maschio, cogliendo immediatamente il segnale, fa un passo di lato e si posiziona sopra di lei, reggendosi con le zampe nella zona posteriore del corpo della femmina.
In quel momento i due colombacci uniscono e sfregano fra loro le cloache, ovvero le aperture nelle quali confluiscono i sistemi riproduttivo, urinario e digerente di tutti i rettili.
Questa unione, chiamata bacio cloacale, è l’atto sessuale di tutti gli uccelli sprovvisti di pene (ovvero la maggioranza). Serve per trasferire lo sperma da una cloaca a l’altra. Ed è finita in meno di 10 secondi. Comunque più della media, probabilmente a causa del precario equilibrio dei due uccelli sul cavo telefonico.
Dopo di che, il maschio fa un altro passo laterale, ritornando esattamente nella posizione dove si trovava prima dell’accoppiamento. La femmina, invece, fa ben cinque passi di lato, allontanandosi parecchio dal maschio…
Appena voltatomi per riprendere a correre, ho sentito distintamente il maschio accendersi una sigaretta.
Foto di un colombaccio che ho scattato nella primavera dell’anno scorso.
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Persone che credevano nell'amore e nella felicità trasformate in esseri freddi e distaccati a causa di viscide cloache umane e situazioni atroci.
Per quanto una persona possa essere solare e positiva , c'è sempre qualcosa o qualcuno a questo mondo che brama e trae piacere nello strappare il sorriso a chi invece è capace di donarlo.
Non è giusto.
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Luca ha cucinato per me del sugo piccante ed abbiamo cenato sui comodini della camera da letto debitamente apparecchiati, circondati da candele, seduti scomodi sul pavimento. Ha scartato il mio regalo (concime liquido, una maglietta) ed ha letto la poesiola che lo accompagnava su un uomo di Treviglio (BG) che non aveva la morosa ma tanto gli bruciava dentro il desiderio d'averne una da indossare mutandine rosa e reggiseno per poi guardarsi allo specchio con l'uccello in mano. L'uomo si scopre incinta e partorisce un coyote che gli bruca i peli del petto e gli lecca la faccia, gli morde le braccia. Insieme giocano a rincorrersi nelle cloache della città.
Ho letto questa poesia ed ho pensato "È amore" e, malgrado io abbia dovuto modificare il testo così da far allineare geograficamente le somiglianze e togliere il sottotesto incestuoso 😳😳, è il mio amore per L nello specifico.
È qualcosa che ho covato dentro e sul cui aspetto non ho controllo, che voglio sudicio e libero e sporco.
Ci siamo baciati moltissimo con una playlist romantica in sottofondo e c'è stato un momento in cui ci siamo guardati sottecchi cercando di smettere di sorridere. L'ho trovato molto bello con su i baffi lasciati dalla panna del White Russian.
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fino all'inaugurazione dello Stadium l’#8settembre ha rappresentato il dramma di un’Italia stupida, ignorante e persino fedifraga: adesso è diventato #Juve, è vittoria, è l'arrogante evidenza di essere decenni avanti rispetto a chi si esibisce ancora in fetide cloache di Stato
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Alla ricerca delle cloache di Roma... scrivere è anche questo, quando devi far entrare tre personaggi nelle stanze del Vaticano. Ho scoperto che la fogna più lunga è quella chiamata MAXIMA. "La Cloaca Maxima è il più grande complesso fognario romano antico ancora in funzione; il canale principale si estende da via Cavour al Velabro, mentre le molte antiche affluenze provenienti dai Fori Imperiali e dal Foro Romano, e le affluenze moderne provenienti da via Madonna dei Monti, Via Cavour e da tutta la zone del Velabro, la rendono collettore di una rete fognaria efficiente che drena i liquami nel moderno sistema del Collettore Basso di sinistra sottopassante i lungoteveri orientali". Grazie a Roma Sotterranea ho letto un po' di storia. Vi lascio il link. Incredibile di cosa fossimo capaci di creare, vero? #ispirazione #roma #cloache #romanzo #scriverechepassione #storiaromana #storiadiroma #romasotterranea https://www.instagram.com/p/CGMvLaRHAsl/?igshid=cfthvxtuuq3g
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Happy National Hat Day! One of my first and favorite cloaches made in the atelier of @anyacaliendo Model: @tatiannaari #nationalhatday #sarahsokol #sarahsokolmillinery #hat #hats #couture #handmade #millinery #milliner #couturehat #fashion #haute #chic #wearableart #handmadehats #cloache #pearls #purple
#fashion#sarahsokol#millinery#nationalhatday#purple#pearls#hats#wearableart#handmade#couturehat#handmadehats#cloache#couture#sarahsokolmillinery#chic#milliner#hat#haute
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cloach
#fish#aquarium#clown loach#loach#animals#aquatic#fishblr#fishkeeping#cute#sticker design#bottom feeders#illustration#design#nature#transparent
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l’ #Afghanistan è costato all'Italia 8,8 miliardi, 54 vittime e 625 feriti, miliardi buttati nelle cloache del commercio delle armi:
soldi morti e feriti inutili
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Grido a Roma
Canzone di Angelo Branudardi tratta dall'album Poetas en Nueva York, disco tributo a Federico García Lorca. Si tratta di una straordinaria ode-imprecazione in musica. Un grido disperato - lanciato dal Grattacielo Chrysler - contro il Vaticano per denunciare l'alleanza con il regime fascista, la cecità; della Chiesa di fronte alla fame delle moltitudini, la repressione morale.
La poesia. Grido a Roma, Federico Garcia Lorca, 1929
Grido a Roma (dalla torre del Chrysler Building)
Mele leggermente ferite da sottili spadini d'argento, nuvole lacerate da una mano di corallo che porta sul dorso una mandorla di fuoco, pesci d'arsenico come pescecani, pescecani come gocce di pianto per accecare la folla, rose che feriscono, e aghi installati nei tubi del sangue, mondi nemici e amori coperti di vermi cadranno su di te. Cadranno sulla gran cupola che ungono d'olio le lingue militari dove un uomo orina in una splendente colomba e sputa carbone masticato circondato da mille campanelli. Perché non v'è più chi divida il pane e il vino né chi coltivi erbe in bocca al morto né chi apra i lini del riposo né chi pianga per le ferite degli elefanti. Non c'è che un milione di fabbri che fabbricano catene per i bambini del futuro. Non c'è che un milione di carpentieri che fanno bare senza croce. Non c'è che una folla di lamenti che aprono le vesti in attesa della pallottola. L'uomo che disprezza la colomba doveva parlare, doveva gridare nudo fra le colonne e farsi un'iniezione per prendere la lebbra e piangere un pianto così terribile da fondere i suoi anelli e i telefoni di diamante. Ma l'uomo vestito di bianco ignora il mistero della spiga, ignora il gemito della partoriente, ignora che Cristo può dare ancora acqua, ignora che la moneta brucia il bacio prodigioso e dà il sangue dell'agnello al becco idiota del fagiano. I maestri mostrano ai bambini una luce meravigliosa che viene dal monte; ma ciò che giunge è un insieme di cloache dove gridano le oscure ninfe del colera. I maestri indicano con devozione le enormi cupole profumate ma sotto le statue non c'è amore, non c'è amore sotto gli occhi di cristallo definitivo. L'amore vive nelle carni lacerate dalla sete, nella minuscola capanna che lotta con l'inondazione; l'amore vive nei fossi dove lottano le serpi della fame nel triste mare che dondola i cadaveri dei gabbiani e nell'oscurissimo bacio pungente sotto i guanciali. Ma il vecchio dalle mani trasparenti dirà: amore, amore, amore, acclamato da milioni di moribondi; dirà: amore, amore, amore, nel tessuto tremante di tenerezza; dirà: pace, pace, pace, fra brividi di coltelli e meloni di dinamite; dirà: amore, amore, amore, finché le labbra non gli diventeranno d'argento. Intanto, intanto, ahi! intanto i negri che portano via le sputacchiere, i bambini che tremano sotto il pallido terrore dei direttori, le donne affogate in olii minerali, la folla di martello, di violino o di nube, deve gridare finché le rompano la testa nel muro, deve gridare di fronte alle cupole, deve gridare pazza di fuoco, deve gridare pazza di neve, deve gridare con la testa piena di escremento, deve gridare come tutte le notti insieme, deve gridare con voce così lacerata finché le città non tremino come bambine e rompano le prigioni dell'olio e della musica, perché vogliamo il nostro pane quotidiano, fiore d'ontano e perenne tenerezza sgranata, perché vogliamo che si compia la volontà della Terra che dà i suoi frutti per tutti.
Grito hacia Roma (desde la torre del Chrysler Building)
Manzanas levemente heridas por finos espadines de plata, nubes rasgadas por una mano de coral que lleva en el dorso una almendra de fuego, peces de arsénico como tiburones, tiburones como gotas de llanto para cegar una multitud, rosas que hieren y agujas instaladas en los caños de la sangre, mundos enemigos y amores cubiertos de gusanos caerán sobre ti. Caerán sobre la gran cúpula que untan de aceite las lenguas militares donde un hombre se orina en una deslumbrante paloma y escupe carbón machacado rodeado de miles de campanillas. Porque ya no hay quien reparta el pan ni el vino, ni quien cultive hierbas en la boca del muerto, ni quien abra los linos del reposo, ni quien llore por las heridas de los elefantes. No hay más que un millón de herreros forjando cadenas para los niños que han de venir. No hay más que un millón de carpinteros que hacen ataúdes sin cruz. No hay más que un gentío de lamentos que se abren las ropas en espera de la bala. El hombre que desprecia la paloma debía hablar, debía gritar desnudo entre las columnas, y ponerse una inyección para adquirir la lepra y llorar un llanto tan terrible que disolviera sus anillos y sus teléfonos de diamante. Pero el hombre vestido de blanco ignora el misterio de la espiga, ignora el gemido de la parturienta, ignora que Cristo puede dar agua todavía, ignora que la moneda quema el beso de prodigio y da la sangre del cordero al pico idiota del faisán. Los maestros enseñan a los niños una luz maravillosa que viene del monte; pero lo que llega es una reunión de cloacas donde gritan las oscuras ninfas del cólera. Los maestros señalan con devoción las enormes cúpulas sahumadas; pero debajo de las estatuas no hay amor, no hay amor bajo los ojos de cristal definitivo. El amor está en las carnes desgarradas por la sed, en la choza diminuta que lucha con la inundación; el amor está en los fosos donde luchan las sierpes del hambre, en el triste mar que mece los cadáveres de las gaviotas y en el oscurísimo beso punzante debajo de las almohadas. Pero el viejo de las manos traslúcidas dirá: Amor, amor, amor, aclamado por millones de moribundos; dirá: amor, amor, amor, entre el tisú estremecido de ternura; dirá: paz, paz, paz, entre el tirite de cuchillos y melones de dinamita; dirá: amor, amor, amor, hasta que se le pongan de plata los labios. Mientras tanto, mientras tanto ¡ay!, mientras tanto, los negros que sacan las escupideras, los muchachos que tiemblan bajo el terror pálido de los directores, las mujeres ahogadas en aceites minerales, la muchedumbre de martillo, de violín o de nube, ha de gritar aunque le estrellen los sesos en el muro, ha de gritar frente a las cúpulas, ha de gritar loca de fuego, ha de gritar loca de nieve, ha de gritar con la cabeza llena de excremento, ha de gritar como todas las noches juntas, ha de gritar con voz tan desgarrada hasta que las ciudades tiemblen como niñas y rompan las prisiones del aceite y la música, porque queremos el pan nuestro de cada día, flor de aliso y perenne ternura desgranada, porque queremos que se cumpla la voluntad de la Tierra que da sus frutos para todos.
La canzone. Grido a Roma, Angelo Branduardi, 1986
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