#lo splendore

[haikyou]

Da quando siamo tornati dal nostro recente FYOT ( FiftyYearsOnTour ) - che è stato un pieno di energetiche intense convulse, profondamente leggere emozioni intime e pubbliche - , nel limbo quieto della mia collina solitaria si sono dapprima confusamente apparsi i ricordi, i lasciti, le digressioni, le orme, le coincidenze, le illuminazioni, le smentite, le fatiche, le estasi, gli sprofondamenti, gli incanti, i detriti e le gemme (r)accolte in viaggio. Poi le polveri si sono depositate, e pian piano il prefisso ‘con’ si è svaporizzato, lasciando erigersi, come una immateriale materializzata statua-immagine l’alchemica, sacra parola ‘fusione’. A quel punto ho messo ( ho provato a mettere ) ordine agli appunti scritti e mentali ricavati in diretta a Londra, ed a quelli scritti da lunedì 18 notte in poi. 

Stamattina, poco fa, grazie a Giulio Mozzi, ho letto e riletto, con eccitazione crescente, l’intervista a Pier Paolo Di Mino realizzata dalla rivista “STORMI” del Piccolo Teatro Milano  ( in copertina una delle pagine, l’intervista completa la troverà, chi lo desidera, nel post dopo questo, come condivisione dei post di Giulio Mozzi e di Pier Paolo stesso: leggetela, o voi che leggete e scrivete, è magistrale ). 

Lì ho trovato le parole che cercavo per completare il BaoUtnaFèretWaka che andavo cercando di scrivere per trasformare la confusione in fusione, per fermare instabilmente, a parole, le sensazioni depositate.

Come al solito sono imperfette: sono un poetastro, questo mi è e vi è chiaro. Sono tuttavia care a me, e desidero siano parte del mio segno, siano tracce, “confuse nel refrain” ma reperibili, alla bisogna; se ve le offro è, come sempre, per vanità. E per riconoscenza reciproca ( con particolare gratitudine e debito per GM, DPDM, WC, PP, NK, RC,  BD, RS, LC )

Con in-finito amore ai ‘miei’ di prima e dopo, ma soprattutto al mio qui ora tutto, la SignoraInViola, CCF ).

Mi basta poco,

A tavola a letto

Mastico lento.

Di buona arte 

Resto molto esigente,

Né son mai sazio.

Finzione mercuriale,

Reciproca preghiera.

BaoUtnaFèretWaka, 21 ottobre 2024 - 10.06/12.06, Kontowood.

[dominousworld]

LO SPLENDORE DELL'AQUILA GHIBELLINA

LO SPLENDORE DELL'AQUILA GHIBELLINA

di Augusto Bianconi (Fratria Altotiberina) ricordiamo ancora una volta quanto abbiamo già detto a riguardo del duplice rimando del termine aigle sia allo ‘splendore, luce’ che all’‘aquila’ stessa. Volendo concludere queste necessariamente rapide osservazioni, dobbiamo ricordare che il Giebel, il ‘frontone’, è quell’elemento architettonico che incornicia il ‘timpano’, entro il cui ambito nei…

[sauolasa]

Dior a Parigi ricorda lo splendore della Baker

Dior guarda al passato, al mito di Joséphine Baker per reinventare il futuro e lo fa con l'estro della direttrice artistica Maria Grazia Chiuri che rimodella il corpo e la sua ansia vitale

[gdmtblr]

A Winter Dawn

Above the marge of night a star still shines,
And on the frosty hills the sombre pines
Harbor an eerie wind that crooneth low
Over the glimmering wastes of virgin snow.

Through the pale arch of orient the morn
Comes in a milk-white splendor newly-born,
A sword of crimson cuts in twain the gray
Banners of shadow hosts, and lo, the day!

-Lucy Maud Montgomery

Happy New Year, my dear friends!!
Much peace, love and joy to you all in 2024.
Warm wishes for the new glorious year :-D

(Sorry for the late New Year's greetings. I've been suffering from a persistent cold since the end of the year🤧💦 Sore throat and cough were particularly heavy and there were times when I was unable to speak…😮‍💨However, my health is finally back to normal👍🏻✨)

すっかりあけまくっておりますが（笑）遅ればせながら新年おめでとうございます。

年末にひいた風邪が数日で治ったかと思いきやまたぶり返し、そのぶり返した風邪のタチがなかなかに悪くてようやく復活できました😅インフルでもコロナでもなかったんですけど、普通の風邪もこじらせるとめちゃめちゃ厄介なものですね💦
今年もどうぞよろしくお願いいたします😊🐶🐶❤️

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=RV4bZDkh7RI

[poisonlove]

I hate you! | j.o

"Damn motherfucker! I missed you so much," Maddy exclaimed with enthusiasm as she approached. My face lit up with a smile when I saw her approaching, radiating her usual splendor.

Maddy was wearing a tight red crop top with a deep neckline. Under the crop top, she had on a short high-waisted skirt made of shimmering fabric. For footwear, she opted for knee-high boots that accentuated her legs. To complete the look, Maddy was adorned with plenty of jewelry, including dangling earrings, bracelets, and rings. Her makeup was elaborate, featuring sparkling eyeshadow, bold lips, and impeccable nails.

"Hey, Mad," I replied, raising my hand in greeting. However, the Latina girl looked at me with a raised eyebrow, sporting an infectious smile. "With a hand? Come here," Maddy said, opening her arms and wrapping them around my neck, hugging me tightly.

Summer vacation had come to an end, and the excitement of beach days, summer adventures, and golden sunsets was quickly fading. It was time to bid farewell to that carefree atmosphere. Unfortunately, Los Angeles High School had already opened its doors for a new school year. Nostalgia for the long sunny days and evenings spent with friends lingered as I prepared to face a new chapter within the school's austere walls.

"What's new with you?" Maddy asked with a mischievous smile, raising her eyebrows playfully. "Any new conquests? Made any new acquaintances?" She added, revealing her curiosity.

My cheeks quickly turned red. "Maddy!" I whispered, trying to hide my embarrassment. "It's been okay, nothing special..." I replied with a slightly high-pitched voice.

Maddy tilted her head with a knowing smile.

"And you?" I asked curiously.

"Actually, you've changed," Maddy said, observing me closely. "So there's something new about you, you're much sexy." Her words were a sincere compliment as she leaned against my locker. "Summer vacation went well; I went to Greece," she added with a radiant smile.

"Fantastic," I replied absentmindedly. "Well, see you later, bitch... I need to go see Cassie," Maddy said as she approached and planted a kiss on my cheek, bidding me a sweet farewell.

"Bitch..." someone whispered behind me with a mischievous tone, making me turn around.

I barely held back the curse that burned on my lips when I saw Jenna Ortega, the most annoying and unpleasant girl in the whole school. I couldn't understand why she seemed to harbor such deep hatred for me, but her arrogant and egocentric attitude made my blood boil. She was an irritating, odious presence, and just seeing her made me clenched my fists in anger.

"What do you want, Ortega?" I asked with evident irritation, squinting at Jenna.

"Nothing, you're just in my way," she muttered with false innocence that only fueled my anger.

Jenna was dressed in an oversized black hoodie, her hair falling messily onto her shoulders, and she wore a denim skirt that barely reached above the knee. Her style screamed rebellion and attitude, just like her annoying personality.

I reluctantly moved aside, wishing Jenna would trip and fall flat on her face. I inwardly smiled at the thought alone.

"Why are you smiling? You're really weird," Jenna commented absentmindedly as she opened her locker, which was just two lockers away from mine.

Why did she have to be so close to me? I wondered in frustration.

"I was just thinking of something amusing, not your business," I replied with a fake smile. "You're really weird," Jenna said, raising her eyebrows in confusion. "See you in class, loser" she concluded, slamming her locker shut with a dull thud as she walked away.

"I'll show you who's a loser," I muttered under my breath, ready to follow her. But a voice stopped me.

"Leave her be, Y/N, she's just an idiot," someone whispered by my side.

My anger began to dissipate, and I smiled when I saw my friend Rue. The curly-haired girl wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "Sorry I'm late," she said, yawning slightly. "I overslept," she confessed, and I gave her a teasing look.

"Yeah, I can imagine why," I commented mischievously, making Rue blush. "What? No... what do you mean?" she stammered in embarrassment.

"Ey girls!" someone else chimed in with a small laugh. It was Kat, who joined us with a radiant smile. "Hey, Kat," I greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. "Hey, Y/N... Rue," Kat said, giving us both an infectious smile.

"Rue," she said with a mischievous smile, "I hope your vacations were as hot as they seem in my wildest dreams."

Rue blushed even more, trying to hide her embarrassment. "Kat!" she exclaimed with a tone somewhere between embarrassment and amusement.

I couldn't help but smile and burst into laughter. "Kat, I can't tell who's more perverted between you and Mad," I commented amidst the laughter.

After Kat's embarrassing remark, the three of us headed to our first class of the day. It seemed like life at Los Angeles High School was settling back into its routine.

Rue and I had history, while Kat, with a sad smile, said she had math, rolling her eyes in annoyance. It was clear that she didn't particularly care for that subject. With a promise to meet up after class, we parted ways and headed to our respective classrooms, ready to face a new day of academic challenges and unexpected encounters.

(...)

The history class turned out to be one of the most boring ones in my life. The teacher spoke in a monotone voice, the textbook felt like it weighed a ton, and the material being covered was anything but interesting. To try and survive the agony, I started doodling in my notebook, hoping time would pass faster.

Rue, on the other hand, seemed to have a different approach to boredom. She had literally sprawled herself across her desk, her calm and steady breathing indicating that she had decided to take a little nap. I couldn't blame her; in those circumstances, it seemed like the most sensible thing to do.

"Hey, loser... can you move? I can't see the blackboard." A terribly annoying voice whispered behind me.

I turned to look at Jenna with a raised eyebrow, barely holding back my growing anger. "You're not even taking notes," I muttered wearily.

Jenna rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Just do it," she murmured, a smile plastered on her lips.

I needed some supernatural strength to endure Jenna at that moment.

I turned back to my desk and resumed doodling in my notebook, trying to ignore her.

"What are you doing?" Jenna whispered just inches from my ear.

A shiver ran down my spine. "Doodling," I replied in a monotone tone.

I heard Jenna lean back into her chair again, distancing herself from me. But the silence didn't last long.

"Anyway, they suck," she chuckled, taunting me. I bit my lower lip to avoid responding.

A crumpled piece of paper landed on my head.

"Cut it out," I muttered distractedly, trying to focus on my drawings.

Another piece of paper fell onto my head, hitting me harder. Closing my eyes, I tried to hold my breath.

"Can you stop?" I whispered through gritted teeth, hoping not to attract the teacher's attention.

Jenna seemed not to listen, continuing to bother me. Another piece of paper ended up on me, and I lost my patience.

I stood up abruptly from my chair, causing it to crash to the floor with a thud. In a lightning-fast motion, I turned and grabbed Jenna by the collar of her hoodie. "What the hell do you want? Why don't you leave me alone?" I hissed through clenched teeth, my face contorted with irritation.

The distance between our faces was minimal, our breaths mingling in the tense air. Jenna smiled, showing her dimple. "Fuck you," she simply replied, looking at me with challenging eyes.

My grip on her hoodie tightened, the distance between our faces decreasing even more. "L/N! ORTEGA!" The teacher's voice echoed in the classroom, drawing everyone's attention to us. My eyes shifted to the teacher, who was looking at us angrily.

The whole class had their eyes on us, watching our quarrel with curiosity and surprise. I released my hold on Jenna's hoodie, pushing her away from me.

"Both of you, immediately out of my class and go to the principal's office," the teacher ordered, pointing to the door.

"This is your fault," I whispered irritably as we made our way to the exit.

"Actually, it's yours," Jenna stuck her tongue out in response.

"Move it," the teacher urged us again, this time with a stern tone.

With clenched teeth, I walked out of the classroom, headed to the principal's office along with the obnoxious Ortega.

She's so insufferable.

[noticiasarquelogicasjaponesas]

Sean bienvenidos japonitasarqueologicos, a un nuevo especial ya somos 2400 seguidores mil gracias por el apoyo y para agradeceros os traigo una de las leyendas más icónicas de Japón dicho esto pónganse cómodos que empezamos. - ¿Qué significa Sakura? Significa Cerezo en flor, seguramente os suene el nombre por algún que otro personaje de anime como: Sakura cazadora de cartas o en la película llamada comerme tu páncreas. - ¿Cómo surgió está leyenda? Todo comienza, en un Japón que está desolado por las guerras y horrores de los seres humanos, nuestro personaje se localiza en un bosque donde hay un árbol al cual no le florecían las flores, los animales ni la hierba por el mal que emanaba de él. - Un día un hada se compadeció de él y le concedió el poder de transformarse en hombre durante 20 años para poder encontrar el amor pero no fue así lo único que vio fue horror. Cuando le quedaba poco tiempo seguía sin florecer en lo que respecta como árbol y como humano. Un día en la orilla del río se deslumbró al ver a Sakura y se enamoró de ella. Llegó el día en el que se transformó en árbol y Sakura abrazó el árbol, le confesó su amor el hada tenía dos opciones adherirse al Yohiro o no pero viendo los horrores del mundo decide fusionarse con él. - Esta leyenda está ligada a una de las festividades más importantes de Japón que se llama Hanami durante una semana los japoneses contemplan la flor de Sakura en todo su esplendor. Esto fue un símbolo para los Kamikazes durante la 2ww y para los samuráis que lo consideraban con la sangre. - Espero que os haya gustado el especial y nos vemos en próximas publicaciones de Arqueología japonesa. Un cordial saludo. - 日本考古学へようこそ。フォロワー数が 2,400 人になりました。ご支援いただき、ありがとうございます。そうは言っても、安心して始めましょう。 - さくら とはどういう意味ですか?桜という意味です。カードハンターさくらや映画「君の膵臓をたべます」などのアニメのキャラクターでこの名前をよくご存じでしょう。 - この伝説はどのようにして生まれたのでしょうか？すべては、戦争と人間の恐怖によって荒廃した日本で、私たちのキャラクターは、そこから発せられる悪のために花、動物、草が咲かなかった木がある森にいます。 - ある日、彼を憐れんだ妖精が、愛を見つけるために20年間人間に変身する力を与えてくれましたが、そうではなく、彼が見たのは恐怖だけでした。 彼に残された時間がほとんどないとき、彼はまだ木としても人間としても成長していませんでした。ある日、彼は川岸で桜を見て幻惑し、恋に落ちました。彼が木に変身する日が来て、サクラは木に抱きつき、愛を告白しました。妖精には2つの選択肢がありました。ヨヒロに従うかどうか。しかし、世界の恐ろしさを見て、彼女は彼と融合することを決めました。 - この伝説は、花見と呼ばれる日本で最も重要なお��りの 1 つと結びついており、日本人は 1 週間にわたってその素晴らしさを満喫する桜の花を鑑賞します。これは、第二次世界大戦中の特攻隊と、それを血をもって考えた武士たちの象徴でした。 - この特集を気に入っていただければ幸いです。今後の日本考古学の出版物でお会いしましょう。心のこもった挨拶。 - Welcome japonitasarqueologicos, to a new special we are already 2400 followers thank you very much for the support and to thank you I bring you one of the most iconic legends of Japan that said make yourselves comfortable we begin. - What does Sakura mean? It means Cherry Blossom, surely you know the name from some other anime character like: Sakura card hunter or in the movie called eat your pancreas. - How did this legend come about? It all begins, in a Japan that is devastated by wars and horrors of human beings, our character is located in a forest where there is a tree that did not bloom flowers, animals or grass because of the evil that emanated from it. - One day a fairy took pity on him and granted him the power to transform into a man for 20 years to be able to find love but it was not like that the only thing he saw was horror. When he had little time left, he still did not blossom as a tree or as a human. One day on the river bank he was dazzled by the sight of Sakura and fell in love with her. The day came when he transformed into a tree and Sakura hugged the tree, confessed her love to him, the fairy had two options to join Yohiro or not, but seeing the horrors of the world she decided to merge with him. - This legend is linked to one of the most important festivals in Japan called Hanami, during which the Japanese contemplate the Sakura flower in all its splendor for a week. This was a symbol for the Kamikazes during WWII and for the samurai who considered it to be blood. - I hope you liked the special and see you in future publications of Japanese Archaeology. Best regards.

[neropece]

“a silent story” photo by Fabrizio Pece (tumblr | 500px | instagram)

Il bosco di betulle, ai piedi della montagna, si ergeva come un santuario silenzioso, un luogo dove il freddo inverno si abbandonava alla grazia candida della neve. Alle dieci di quel mattino, il sole cercava di penetrare tra i rami spogli delle betulle, gettando un bagliore argenteo sui sentieri di neve intonsa. Non c'era un suono tranne il leggero fruscio delle foglie secche cullate dalla brezza.

Guido, un uomo di mezza età con una cicatrice profonda sul viso e gli occhi che portavano il peso di troppi inverni, camminava solitario tra gli alberi. Il suo respiro si trasformava in nuvole vaporose nell'aria gelida. Vestito con un cappotto logoro, con lo sguardo assorto, era un intruso in quel regno di pace e silenzio.

Le betulle si stagliavano come figure spettrali e la loro corteccia bianca risplendeva sotto il tocco del sole invernale. I rami sottili si intrecciavano come dita ossute, protese verso il cielo. La neve, immacolata e incontaminata, scricchiolava sotto i passi di Guido, un suono delicato che sussurrava i segreti di una terra dimenticata.

Nel cuore del bosco si fermò. Poco distante notò uno spazio aperto dove la neve si adagiava come un manto soffice. Si avvicinò e si sedette su un tronco caduto, osservando la vastità del paesaggio innevato. Il silenzio del bosco era sospeso nel tempo, un'armonia serena che avvolgeva ogni pensiero.

Un cervo, timido e maestoso, fece la sua comparsa ai margini del bosco, i suoi occhi si fissarono su Guido. I loro sguardi si incrociarono per un istante, un legame silenzioso tra l'uomo e la creatura selvaggia. Poi il cervo si allontanò, scomparendo tra gli alberi come un fantasma della foresta.

Guido si alzò lentamente, sentendo la solitudine del bosco penetrare nelle pieghe della sua anima. Era come se il silenzio avesse rivelato la fragilità della vita, la bellezza effimera di un momento invernale. Con un'ultima occhiata alle betulle, al loro bianco splendore, si diresse lentamente verso il sentiero di neve, lasciando il bosco alle sue spalle.

[fungifanart]

A Truly Wicked Weave

Characters: Male reader, Yuu!reader, Vil Schoenheit

CW: Mild angst, self-image issues

Word Count: 1.3k

Notes: Wrote this for a request from the @twst-charity which is still very much active! Feel free to donate if you can!

---------------------------------------------------------

Vil has had several...opinions regarding the Prefect ever since meeting him, specifically about how he presents himself.

That baggy, wrinkled clothing, that tie that's never tied correctly, that consistently deadpan expression, and, last but not least, that bun.

That damn hair bun.

Now, of course, Vil is no stranger to wearing one's hair up and is aware of the benefits of doing so, but he's also no fool. He can see the slight wave of the ends that stick out under the bun, the gentle shine of his hair under the light of the sun.

Goodness, just one glimpse of what could be and suddenly he's waxing poetic. Who is he, Rook?

Regardless, Vil just KNOWS that the Prefect is hiding something extraordinary within that tacky bun and he'll be damned if he isn't there to see it.

He just needs the right opportunity.

And lo and behold, said opportunity lands perfectly in his lap like a gift from an angel. An angel with black wings, a creepy mask and questionable treatment of his students, but an angel nonetheless.

After all, what better place is there to let one's hair down than in their own living quarters?

Vil can feel his anticipation rising exponentially despite his exhaustion as they enter Ramshackle dorm, where he and the others will be staying as they prepare for SDC.

And just like that, Vil finds himself killing two birds with one stone later that night as he walks into the kitchen, explaining the effect of his signature spell to the fools who triggered it before laying eyes on a head of long, majestic, luxurious hair crouched next to the offenders.

Vil would never let it show on his face, but he can feel his heart skip a beat upon witnessing the Prefect’s hair in its full splendor and his mind is already conjuring countless ideas of how he can style it without a bun in sight.

And it's when they're walking back to their rooms together that Vil attempts to make said ideas a reality.

"Don't you think you're being too hard on them, Vil?" the Prefect asks in concern for his friends.

"Pay them no mind, Prefect. They broke the rules and are facing the consequences." Vil replies dismissively before changing the subject, "Putting that aside, I must say that I find your hair quite impressive. May I touch it?"

"Huh? U-uh, thanks?? And sure, I guess???" the other man responds, caught off-guard.

"You're very welcome. It's not every day that I admit such things, you know." Vil says, admiring the Prefect’s hair some more before reaching out to get a feel for it, "Ah, and it's quite soft, as well! It's truly a travesty that you keep it tied up in a bun so often. If you took the time to style it, I'm sure you'd be turning heads all over campus!"

"Y-yeah, I'm sure..." he says, noticeably tense and uncomfortable from the sudden compliments.

"If you want, I could even style it for you!" Vil offers while already testing out a braid on him, "Think of it as some small repayment for hosting us here."

"W-well, if you're offering, then I guess I wouldn't--" the Prefect tries to respond, but is drowned out by Vil's musings.

"We could always start with the standard ponytail or perhaps a Shaftlandian braid...although, a Fleurite braid might be easier to start with...it might look better if we were to cut it a little--" at that last statement, the Prefect whips his head around, wrenching his hair out of Vil's hands and taking his wrist in his own, almost bruisingly tight, grasp.

"Vil Schoenheit, you will do no such thing." the Prefect warns in a dead-serious tone of voice with eyes that bore right through him.

A beat of pin-drop silence passes as Vil stands there, utterly flabbergasted by this shift in demeanor.

The moment ends with the Prefect pushing Vil's hand back towards him, "I've changed my mind. You're not going anywhere NEAR my hair while you guys are here." he orders before promptly turning and walking away, leaving no room for argument.

And that was that.

Any attempts by Vil to change the Prefect’s mind after that night are swiftly shot down and no amount of cajoling from the others has any effect either. This is the first time any of them have seen him act so bullheaded about something.

Vil's disappointment is immeasurable, but his status as a guest in the Prefect’s dorm means his hands are tied.

So he'll let it go. For now.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, the next month is filled to the brim with "excitement" to keep his mind off of the Prefect’s hair.

Indeed, the subject does feel rather irrelevant in the face of his own insecurities compounding into an overblot, being ambushed and kidnapped and then having to stave off a world-ending event.

...until one considers that the bun was present throughout all of it.

It was most definitely taunting him at this point.

He doesn't even know why it's still bothering him after so long, but if he never has to see the Prefect in a bun again, it'll be too soon.

However, after all of his pain and suffering, the Great Seven finally grant Vil a blessing in the form of the Prefect and his companion needing a place to stay whilst Ramshackle is being repaired. An opportunity which he wastes no time capitalizing on.

"Come now, Prefect," Vil says in a low voice as he approaches the other man with a hairbrush in one hand and a dry shampoo can in the other, "Let's not forget whose dorm we're currently in~"

"Urgh...fine." the Prefect finally concedes, "However, my one condition is that you keep those things FAR away from my hair." he says while motioning to the scissors sitting on Vil's vanity.

"Hmph. Very well." Vil relents, albeit with some palpable disappointment.

Regardless, Vil finally wrangles the Prefect into the chair and begins the process of styling, allowing the room to fall into a comfortable silence.

After a few minutes of brushing and spraying to prepare for the actual styling, a thought occurs to Vil that had been nagging in the back of his head.

"Prefect, I feel I must ask. Why are you so averse to having your hair cut?" Vil asks bluntly.

The Prefect ponders this question for a few seconds before responding with a sigh, "...My mother. When my hair is long like this, it looks exactly like hers, so it helps me feel more connected to her while we're literal worlds apart." he finishes while gently placing his hand on his reflection in the mirror.

Vil's expression softens upon hearing this, despite not caring to know his own mother, he still knows how important a maternal bond can be to someone and how it's not something to be taken lightly.

“I see.” Vil responds after a second of deliberation, “My apologies for being so forceful on the matter. However, wouldn't it hurt your mother just as much to see you shutting others out as it would to see you lessen that connection?”

“Th-That's…I…” the Prefect stutters, clearly not having seen it that way.

“True to my word, I will not cut your hair,” Vil begins while weaving the other man's hair into a dutch braid, “but surely it would make her happy to see you experimenting with other hairstyles?”

“I-” the Prefect stutters once more before looking at his reflection and letting out another sigh, “...If you still want to style my hair in the future…I'll think about it. But please let me have this for just a little while longer?”

Finally satisfied, Vil finishes the braid with a soft smile, “I do believe I will.”

[weebsinstash]

On the other hand, being someone who is chill with being average and a little weird is pretty comforting, albeit not as relatable or drama material. Like you have those insanely smart adopted family members, who are brooding, cool, fight crime, are insanely smart, privileged, rich and accomplished meanwhile Batsis is like,

"I watched some cool True Crime documentaries and helped Albert- Alfred with the laundry. Sorry about your shirt, Damien, added too much bleach. By the way, look at this drawing I made with a following a Bob Ross tutorial on YouTube! Looks kinda wonky but I made it myself, kinda proud of it. No mistakes, just happy accidents. Haha! :)"

By the very next morning Bruce has that shit framed on either on his desk or on the wall in his office and smiles every time he looks at it. Damian is examining the painting, "ah I see--" and waxing poetic about the different little experiential painting techniques you used on the canvas, Dick and Jason and the rest tease you about getting an exhibit at the Gotham art gallery

Like don't get me wrong I tend to write Reader inserts who are typically average (although I'd like to write a few more power fantasies lol) but I just. I feel like any feelings of inadequacy would be amplified by living with this family. For example, I get anxiety and guilt sometimes just knowing if a large or expensive gift has been gotten for me, feeling guilt about it. Just your every day to day life in the Wayne manor would occasionally be filled with all kinds of large and small splendors. A small walk through the house, passing under the crystal chandelier in the grand lobby. A weekly family dinner with actual silverware handed down for generations. Just the ever looming watchful eye of a literal actual butler, a trained professional butler who's been in service for this family almost his entire life

If anything else, I feel like you'd want to contribute in some way. Help around the house, help as a vigilante, do SOMETHING to "pay them back" which Bruce doesn't want to hear any of and also like. Realistically, if we're saying he's full yandere and you're either his adopted kid or a platonic family member or like even a romantic partner, and he's getting you gifts and taking you on trips and stuff, like. The amount of money being spent on you is a figure you will never in your life be reasonably able to pay back and it would STILL be pocketchange to him

You're just like have PANIC ATTACKS out of guilt and shame and you mention the money to Bruce and he's like "oh that? Psssh" like it's. It's nothing to him. It's more money you could make in your entire lifetime and it's nothing to him

Hey, here's a somewhat related and juicy idea. Recently I was thinking of a concept where Reader is a Gotham vigilante, educated and maybe from a well-off family but like, middle class suburbia kind of wealth, not billionaire Bruce Wayne rich. You eventually find yourself catching the eye of both him AND Catwoman and, kind of actually start having a rapport with both of them. You bump into each other on a mission, help each other out, are impressed with each other's work, and suddenly you're bumping into them out on patrol a lot more. Catwoman starts being openly flirtatious with you while Bat simply just, his shift in demeanor is more subtle for people who aren't familiar with him but. Essentially he actually talks to you now, he won't just be silent and mechanical, he'll communicate and banter and make small talk rather than just ordering you around and speaking solely about the current task at hand or future missions.

I picture everyone on a rooftop in the middle of a stakeout and it eventually becomes small talk to pass the time as you almost do a double take when THE Batman starts making idle chit chat with you (really more of you AND Cat, but you being included at all is kind of an honor, really). He's just looking through his binoculars and without moving "any plans for the rest of the evening" and Catwoman looks at her nails and he sees her throw a very obvious Look over to you "well there's a stray little kitty in my neighborhood I've been meaning to scoop up" and she's been calling you Kitty/Kitten so this whole convo has a double meaning for fucking you OR kidnapping you at this point, and you're just like, in full professional mode replying without any hint of sarcasm "that's good, a lot of people don't recognize the dangers of outdoor cats and the significant ecological impacts they can have on their local environments" and Batman is repressing a smirk as Cat is huffing because oh my god now she has TWO dense cuties to look after 😩 (bonus scene where Bruce catches you smirking and realizes you were politely putting her off or at the very least trying to make her focus on the mission and he smiles to himself about what a clever little jokester you are)

Basically the two of them start deciding they want you to be the filling in that BatCat sandwich and just. Imagine they're trying to seduce you and taking their clothes off and Bruce takes off his mask and you're just like "Whoa whoa whoa hold up, BRUCE WAYNE?" And like. YOU INSTANTLY HATE HIM, the switch FLIPS. You either have extremely personal beef with him like his company laid off a parent of yours and sent your family into poverty, or you just like, legitimately ethically hate him as a person, as this billionaire playboy. Like imagine the disgust if he kisses you as Batman and you think it's so hot and romantic and later on its revealed he's Bruce Wayne, who is notoriously An Enormous Manwhore who has kissed like tons and tons of women and been in all these love scandals. I'd feel GROSS?

Like literally you'd go from "oh my god Batman 🥰 he's so cool and dark and mysterious, I have so much respect for him, he works so hard, he's so smart, not everyone can do what he does" to "of fucking course it would be someone like you. Billionaire running around with his custom-made toys. Of course it's you, who else could AFFORD all this shit? No wonder the police just let you do whatever, you could just pay them off anyways! You'd never be arrested and go to jail and be punished like the rest of us, for anything! Of course you're running around in a suit beating people up, men like you always think they can just do whatever they want!!"

Like imagine you were literally about to fuck both of them and you take one look at their faces, "you're a billionaire and you're a millionaire" and just. Leave. Like they're both shocked and appalled because you just DROP THEM for stuff they kinda basically can't control (although a lot of it is like ethics of what they do and have they gain their wealth) and suddenly they're, showing up at your place of employment for lunch or a day-trip, you're trying to do hero patrols alone and one or both of them pops up to try and invite themselves along to qhayever you're doing (which would especially suck because like, Batman specifically could probably do everything you're doing and better so I imagine working in front of him would be extremely nerve-racking. You're just like trying to rewire a circuit board to hack a door and he just points over your shoulder "actually it's that wire" kind of shit and you have to either let him follow you or look like a massive asshole as you tell him to fuck off, which he might even refuse to do, stating that if this is to save lives or whatever then you need his help

Like legit, Vigilante Reader feels like these two rich freaks have basically been toying with you like some kind of pet and in an attempt to cut them out of your life you drive them to actually dig their claws deeper. Bruce meets Selina for coffee to decompress and he's all "so what have you been up to" since she's got this odd little smirk, "oh ive been feeling just awful lately about this little kitty running around all lonely in my nsighborhood so i just HAD to adopt them" and she just hands him her phone with a picture on it and it's. You with a little diamond studded collar that says something dehumanizing like Kitty or Kitten or Baby on it while you've clearly been crying and are maybe even visibly restrained and Bruce is just like "🙄 Selinaaaaa.... can I come visit to 😳 see this cat tho"

[haikyou]

C’è ma non c’era,

Sacro è il vedere

In trasparenza.

BaoUtnaFèretWaka, 15 maggio 2024 - 5.28, Kontowood.

BaoNota 3 per Lo Splendore alla Libreria Minerva, 16 maggio, ore 18, con Pier Paolo Di Mino.

[gracev0609]

Young in the Night

Josh Kiszka X Reader

Journey back in time to 1982, to an Alternate Universe where Josh is at the epicenter of debauchery and excess. Josh is an entertainer at the hottest new thing on the block, Chippendales, the place for women to drool and ogle.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI, Adult Themes, Drug Use (cocaine), Explicit Sex.

Tugging your cropped leather jacket closer to your torso as you wait in line, your skimpy outfit is not doing much to block the chill from the cool evening air. You gazed up at the neon sign through your teased bangs. The summer of 1982 was coming to an end and you were standing in line with your best friend Marie at the hottest thing in the city of Los Angeles for women, Chippendales.

“Do you think the dancers actually kiss the girls?,” Marie asked leaning in.

“That's what I've heard!,” you giggled, silently hoping to receive a kiss yourself.

The line moved up until you were in front of the doorman. Butterflies erupt in your stomach as you stand in front of the door, uncertain in what lies ahead.

“Alright, you're next! Have a good time ladies!”

The heavy door opened and you were met with colorful lights and the hottest music playing, hundreds of seats sitting around a lit stage. Over on one side was a bar, the first sight you were set on. Grabbing Marie's hand you drug her with, eager to get a tequila sunrise on your hands.

You exchanged cash for your cocktails and went to find a seat, surprisingly you found two in the front row, being the second group to be let inside. The seating was filling up fast, from front seats to back.

The club started to fill and the lights got low, Marie gripped onto your forearm,” Oh I think it's starting!”

A man came out onto the stage, black dress pants, suspenders and no shirt,” Good evening ladies! My name is Mark, and I'll be your host tonight! Welcome to Chippendales, you're in for a night of hunky splendor!”

A tall tan man with blonde hair graced the stage, he was dancing around in the smallest shorts you had ever seen, a collared bowtie around his neck, and little cufflinks around his wrists like wrist bands. It was a play on the playboy bunny, but it worked. He shimmied and shaked working the crowd. You laughed as Marie reached out for him, waving a dollar bill around like a flag,” He's so cute!”

You thought he was an attractive man undoubtedly, but he didn't really do it for you.

He wiggled his way over to where the two of you sat, his hips gyrating in Marie's face.

“Hi sweetheart, do you wanna kiss?” He leaned over Marie as she nodded her head and you watched in awe as they locked lips like passionate lovers.

He pulled away and strutted around the stage, Marie looked at you with red rosy cheeks,” Oh my god!”

The crowd was roaring and your ears were practically ringing, the host speaks into the microphone again,” That was the Perfect Man ladies! Let's give him a huge thank you!”

The women around you went wild as you clapped, not quite understanding what they all saw in him. He was just a man, cute, but just a man. You could admit that the energy in the room was electric and you couldn't help but get swept up in the fun of it all. Mostly naked men parading around showing off their bodies and family jewels, it was drool worthy.

You watched a few more of the acts, some of the men had themes and costumes, some of them came out in pants and stripped down to speedos or g strings.

The host grabbed the mic once again,” Alright sweethearts, I present to you, our next act, an angel in disguise, Joshua!”

Out he came strutting the stage like he owned it, he was clad in the tiniest g string he could get away with, the infamous collared bow tie, and a pair of devil horns nestled into his funky curly mullet. You were instantly captivated by the interesting man. You studied his build, he was small, but toned. He looked strong, though not as strong as others you've seen tonight. Most of his skin was on display, the gleam of the stage lights made his oiled skin shine. The more he danced around to the music the more you became enamored with him. The jiggle of his butt as he strutted up to the audience on the other side of the stage forced you to ogle him.

Reaching into your clutch grabbing your dollar bills you leaned into Marie,” I don't know if I've ever seen a man have more ass!”

He swayed his hips, moving to the side of the stage you were at. When he stopped directly in front of you, his barely clothed package inches away from your face, a deep blush rose on your cheeks.

He squatted down so you were face to face, plucking the dollar from your fingers. Your breath caught in your throat as you really saw his face, he had the biggest softest brown eyes, a perfect white smile, and rosy red cheeks. He was slightly sweaty from gyrating around on stage, but that just added to his sex appeal.

Josh bit his lip before releasing it, his bottom lip plump and slick. Purring he crooned,” Hi Angel. D’ya want a kiss?”

You've never wanted a kiss from a man in devil horns more, nodding your head you leaned in and slipped your hands into his curls at the nape of his neck. When his soft pink lips met yours you almost swore you felt a spark of electricity, but that could be the tequila sunrise talking. You felt his tongue lick across your bottom lip, and tingles shot to your core. Easily you opened up for the performer, moaning lightly when his tongue danced with yours.

The kiss kept going on and on. The music kept playing, the girls kept screaming , and Josh kept kissing you. He had your jaw gripped in his hand, and yours traveled down the length of his torso, squeezing his pecs before landing on his hips. The elastic of his g string resting at your fingertips. You kept thinking that now was when he was going to disconnect from you, but if anything he leaned into you more. The kissing went on for so long that Mark the host came back on over the speakers,” Okay Joshua, angel in disguise, your time has ended! Wrap up your act!”

Josh finally ended the kiss,” If ya wanna go home with me, wait for me after the show.”

🎀🎀🎀

The club lights came up and the women started emptying out, the show was over but the bar was still active. You turned to Marie,” I'm gonna go home with him! I'll call you when I get home okay!”

“Okay babe! I'll leave the phone cord plugged in tonight so I hear the call!”

You hugged her goodbye and sat back down in your seat, sipping on a fresh tequila sunrise. It took you a second to recognize the man who had now come to stand in front of you, it was Joshua, but he was wearing clothes now. He had on white sneakers, light wash blue jeans, and a blue short sleeve button up, unbuttoned of course. “Hi Angel. I see you've made up your mind.”

“Hi Joshua. I did make up my mind.”

He grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet,”Please call me Josh.”

He laces your fingers together and leads you out the front door of the club.

“I don't live far!” He squeezed your hand in his as you walked shoulder to shoulder on the LA sidewalk.

“I really enjoyed the show Josh! Your act especially,” You beamed,” It was my first time at Chippendales!”

He smiles down at you, this time you notice a slight gap between his front teeth,” I'm so glad Angel.”

“My name is Y/N, just so you know.”

One side of his smile quirks up,” Y/N…. I think I prefer Angel for tonight.”

You blushed feeling butterflies in your stomach.

Soon you arrived at his front door, you stood behind him as he fished the keys out of his pocket, unlocking the door.

Feeling your eyes widen in surprise, he must be making a lot of money from the club. His home had beautiful new modern furniture. He led you to his couch before pulling you into his lap. Your skirt rode up your hips and you straddled his thighs, your lips connecting again. Josh wasted no time running his hands up and down your body, his light touches making your nipples harden under your shirt.

Your hands wander his soft torso once against, and he leans in and kisses up your neck nibbling at your ear.

“Want some blow?” Josh cooes breathlessly.

Nerves bubble in your stomach, you've done it before, at a club with Marie.

“Just a bump.”

“Mmhmm.”

Josh lightly nips at the skin of your neck before lifting your shirt off your body, your bare breasts bouncing in his face.

“Heavenly” he breathes, placing your nipple in his hot waiting mouth. Back arching into his touch you moan his name. You grind your hips down into his hard on, making him moan out too.

Panting he disconnected from your chest and leans down, his hand placed on your back supporting your weight as he bends.

He retries a glass tray, blade and a baggie of white powder.

You wiggle your hips in his lap as he prepares your indulgence.

“God I'm so hard. Have you ever had sex on this? It's incredible.”

“I haven't, I've only taken it in the club.”

You hear the metal blade scraping on glass,” Are you sure you just want a bump? You can have more if you want more.”

You turn in his grasp to look at the tray, the tip of his cock brushing against your clit.

“I’ll do a line with you.” You whisper rocking your hips into him.

Josh kisses your cheek before separating the substance into two lines. He picks up the tray, placing it in your hands to hold as he gets the straw. Holding it to his face he leans down and inhales. Lifting his head his eyes flutter closed as his nose scrunches. After a few seconds he opens them, handing you the straw and taking the glass tray so you can partake. Leaning down you mirror his actions, also scrunching your nose at the uncomfortable feeling.

He places the paraphernalia back on the coffee table in front of him, and grabs your hips pulling them down onto his aching cock. Losing your patience you climb off of him and discard the rest of your clothing.

“Eager are we baby?” Josh chuckles following suit and removing his jeans and underwear. Feeling the effects of the blow your jaw drops at the sight of his cock. It's pretty. He's thick and pulsing, the head flushed a deep red. Your slick threatening to drip down your thigh, you place yourself back into his lap. His cock slips in between your wet folds as you grind his head against your clit.

Throwing his head back he moans,” God your pussy's just drenching me.”

After a few more minutes of grinding he's begging you to let him in. You grab him hot in your hand and line him up with your entrance.

‘Go slow Angel, stretch that tight cunt for me.”

The feeling of him in you was indescribable, euphoria tingling within your body. He felt so good. After a few minutes of bouncing he lifted you off of him.

“Wanna switch, put your ass up for me.”

You did as you were told, leaning your forearms down onto his green couch. He shuddered when he ran the tip of his cock through your slick again. You were so turned on you weren't sure if you had ever been so wet, it was all over your thighs.

Softly he nudges his way back in you, his sensitive head nestled against your g spot. His hips drive forward and you yelp at the sensation. Everything is so intense and pleasurable, you weren't sure if you'd ever had sex this good before. With his rhythmic push and pull of his cock against your special spot you felt that familiar feeling bubbling up in your stomach.A man had never made you cum before, especially not with just his cock.

“Josh, I'm getting close. I'm - I'm gonna cum.”

“Cum for me Y/N. Fuck, do I wanna feel it.”

You were in disbelief at how alive this sinful specimen of a man could make you feel.

Your high came crashing down on you as you clenched and fluttered around his cock. You gushed and gushed as he abused your insides.

You could hear grunts of praise as he fucked you through it,” Angel. I'm gonna cum. Are you on the pill baby?”

“Uhhuh!”

“Can I cum inside love?”

“Please Josh, ruin me!”

He gripped your hips even tighter, pounding into your tight heat. You felt him get even harder, swelling inside of you before spurting his warm cum painting your insides.

“Fuck! Fuck I'm still cumming,” he gasps out.

You could feel him throbbing and twitching pumping out small dribbles of cum as his orgasm dwindled.

Once he catches his breath he pulls out gently. You stay still propped up on your arms and knees .

“Just sit down love, we already ruined the upholstery.”

You chuckled, settling back down on the cushions, you laid your head on Josh's shoulder as you came down from all of your highs.

Josh pulls you into his body, eager for some skin to skin contact, “Oh to be young in the night, huh?”

[talonabraxas]

If a thousand suns were to blaze forth together in the sky, they would not match the splendor of that great form.

THE COSMIC VISION

Bhagavad Gita, Chapter 11

Behold, O Arjuna! My celestial forms, by hundreds and thousands, various in kind, in color, and in shape.

Behold the Powers of Nature: fire, earth, wind, and sky; the sun, the heavens, the moon, the stars; all the forces of vitality and of healing; and the roving winds. See the myriad wonders revealed to none but you.

Here, in Me living as one, O Arjuna! Behold the whole universe, movable and immovable, and anything else that you would see.

Yet since with mortal eyes you cannot see Me, lo! I give you the Divine Sight. See now the glory of My Sovereignty.

[falcemartello]

Diegetico

die-gè-ti-co

SIGNIFICATO Che riguarda lo sviluppo di una NARRAZIONE

ETIMOLOGIA voce dotta recuperata dal greco diegetikós ‘narrativo’.

«I costumi sono meravigliosi — il problema è tutto diegetico.»

Splendore delle parole difficili che riguardano roba a cui non c’è persona che non sia esposta. Qui siamo nella regione della narrazione.

[susieporta]

[Lei s’innamorò come s’ innamorano sempre le donne intelligenti:

come un’ idiota]

La zia Daniela s’innamorò come s’innamorano sempre le donne intelligenti: come un’idiota. Lo aveva visto arrivare un mattino, le spalle erette e il passo sereno, e aveva pensato: «Quest’uomo si crede Dio». Ma dopo averlo sentito raccontare storie di mondi lontani e di passioni sconosciute, si innamorò di lui e delle sue braccia come se non parlasse latino sin da bambina, non avesse studiato logica e non avesse sorpreso mezza città imitando i giochi poetici di Góngora e di suor Juana Inés de la Cruz come chi risponde ad una filastrocca durante la ricreazione. Era tanto colta che nessun uomo voleva mettersi con lei, per quanto avesse occhi di miele e labbra di rugiada, per quanto il suo corpo solleticasse l’immaginazione risvegliando il desiderio di vederlo nudo, per quanto fosse bella come la Madonna del Rosario. Gli uomini avevano paura di amarla, perché c’era qualcosa nella sua intelligenza che suggeriva sempre un disprezzo per il sesso opposto e le sue ricchezze.

Ma quell’uomo che nulla sapeva di lei e dei suoi libri le si accostò come a chiunque altra. Allora la zia Daniela lo dotò di un’intelligenza abbagliante, una virtù angelica e un talento d’artista. Il suo cervello lo guardò in tanti modi che in capo a dodici giorni credette di conoscere cento uomini.

Lo amò convinta che Dio possa aggirarsi tra i mortali, abbandonata con tutta se stessa ai desideri e alle stramberie di un uomo che non aveva mai avuto intenzione di rimanere e non aveva mai capito neppure uno di tutti i poemi che Daniela aveva voluto leggergli per spiegare il suo amore.

Un giorno così com’era venuto, se ne andò senza neppure salutare. Non ci fu allora in tutta l’intelligenza della zia Daniela una sola scintilla in grado di spiegarle ciò che era successo.

Ipnotizzata da un dolore senza nome né destino, diventò la più stupide delle stupide. Perderlo fu un dolore lungo come l’insonnia, una vecchiaia di secoli, l’inferno.

Per pochi giorni di luce, per un indizio, per gli occhi d’acciaio e di supplica che le aveva prestato una notte, la zia Daniela sotterrò la voglia di vivere e cominciò a perdere lo splendore della pelle, la forza delle gambe, l’intensità della fronte e delle viscere.

Nel giro di tre mesi divenne quasi cieca, le crebbe una gobba sulla schiena e dovette succedere qualcosa anche al suo termostato interno, perché, nonostante indossasse anche in pieno sole calze e cappotto, batteva i denti dal freddo come se vivesse al centro stesso dell’inverno. La portavano fuori a prendere aria come un canarino. Le mettevano accanto frutta e biscotti da becchettare, ma sua madre si portava via il piatto intatto mentre Daniela rimaneva muta, nonostante gli sforzi che tutti facevano per distrarla.

All’inizio la invitavano in strada, per vedere se, guardando i colombi e osservando la gente che andava e veniva, qualcosa in lei cominciasse a dare segni di attaccamento alla vita. Provarono di tutto. Sua madre se la portò in Spagna e le fece girare tutti i locali sivigliani di flamenco senza ottenere da lei nulla più di una lacrima, una sera in cui il cantante era allegro. La mattina seguente inviò un telegramma a suo marito:«Comincia a migliorare, ha pianto un secondo». Era diventata come un arbusto secco, andava dove la portavano e appena poteva si lasciava cadere sul letto come se avesse lavorato ventiquattr’ore di seguito in una piantagione di cotone. Alla fine non ebbe più forze che per gettarsi su una sedia a dire a sua madre:«Ti prego, andiamocene a casa».

Quando tornarono, la zia Daniela camminava a stento, e da allora non volle più alzarsi dal letto. Non voleva neppure lavarsi, né pettinarsi, né fare pipì. Un mattino non riuscì neppure ad aprire gli occhi.

«E’ morta!», sentì esclamare intorno a sé, e non trovò la forza di negarlo.

Qualcuno suggerì a sua madre che un tale comportamento fosse un ricatto, un modo di vendicarsi degli altri, una posa da bambina viziata che, se di colpo avesse perso la tranquillità di una casa sua e la pappa pronta, si sarebbe data da fare per guarire da un giorno all’altro. Sua madre fece lo sforzo di crederci e seguì il consiglio di abbandonarla sul portone della cattedrale. La lasciarono lì una notte con la speranza di vederla tornare, affamata e furiosa, com’era stata un tempo. La terza notte la raccolsero dal portone e la portarono in ospedale tra le lacrime di tutta la famiglia.

All’ospedale andò a farle visita la sua amica Elidé, una giovane dalla pelle luminosa che parlava senza posa e che sosteneva di saper curare il mal d’amore. Chiese che le permettessero di prendersi cura dell’anima e dello stomaco di quella naufraga. Era una creatura allegra e attiva. Ascoltarono il suo parere. Secondo lei, l’errore nella cura della sua intelligente amica consisteva nel consiglio di dimenticare. Dimenticare era una cosa impossibile. Quel che bisognava fare era imbrigliare i suoi ricordi perché non la uccidessero, perché la obbligassero a continuare a vivere.

I genitori ascoltarono la ragazza con la stessa indifferenza che ormai suscitava in loro qualsiasi tentativo di curare la figlia. Davano per scontato che non sarebbe servito a nulla, ma autorizzarono il tentativo come se non avessero ancora perso la speranza, che ormai avevano perso.

Le misero a dormire nella stessa stanza. Passando davanti a quella porta, in qualsiasi momento, si udiva l’infaticabile voce di Elidé parlare dell’argomento con la stessa ostinazione con la quale un medico veglia un moribondo. Non stava zitta un minuto. Non le dava tregua. Un giorno dopo l’altro, una settimana dopo l’altra.

«Come hai detto che erano le sue mani?», chiedeva.

Se la zia Daniela non rispondeva, Elidé l’attaccava su un altro fronte.

«Aveva gli occhi verdi? Castani? Grandi?».

«Piccoli», rispose la zia Daniela, aprendo bocca per la prima volta dopo un mese.

«Piccoli e torbidi?», domandò Elidé.

«Piccoli e fieri», rispose la zia Daniela, e ricadde nel suo mutismo per un altro mese.

«Era sicuramente del Leone. Sono così, i Leoni», diceva la sua amica tirando fuori un libro sui segni zodiacali. Le leggeva tutte le nefandezze che un Leone può commettere. «E poi sono bugiardi. Ma tu non devi lasciarti andare, sei un Toro: sono forti le donne del Toro».

«Di bugie sì che ne ha dette», le rispose Daniela una sera.

«Quali? Non te ne scordare! Perché il mondo non è tanto grande da non incontrarlo mai più, e allora gli ricorderai le sue parole: una per una, quelle che ti ha detto e quelle che ha fatto dire a te».

«Non voglio umiliarmi».

«Sarai tu a umiliare lui. Sarebbe troppo facile, seminare parole e poi filarsela».

«Le sue parole mi hanno illuminata!», lo difese la zia Daniela.

«Si vede, come ti hanno illuminata!», diceva la sua amica, arrivate a questo punto.

Dopo tre mesi ininterrotti di parole la fece mangiare come Dio comanda. Non si rese neppure conto di come fosse successo. L’aveva portata a fare una passeggiata in giardino. Teneva sottobraccio una cesta con frutta, pane, burro, formaggio e tè. Stese una tovaglia sull’erba, tirò fuori la roba e continuò a parlare mettendosi a mangiare senza offrirle nulla.

«Gli piaceva l’uva», disse l’ammalata.

«Capisco che ti manchi».

«Sì» disse la zia Daniela, portandosi alla bocca un grappolo d’uva. «Baciava divinamente. E aveva la pelle morbida, sulla schiena e sulla pancia».

«E com’era… sai di che cosa parlo», disse l’amica, come se avesse sempre saputo che cosa la torturava.

«Non te lo dico», rispose Daniela ridendo per la prima volta dopo mesi. Mangiò poi pane e burro, formaggio e tè.

«Bello?», chiese Elidé.

«Sì», rispose l’ammalata, ricominciando a essere se stessa.

Una sera scesero a cena. La zia Daniela indossava un vestito nuovo e aveva i capelli lucidi e puliti, finalmente liberi dalla treccia polverosa che non si era pettinata per tanto tempo.

Venti giorni più tardi, le due ragazze avevano ripassato tutti i ricordi da cima a fondo, fino a renderli banali. Tutto ciò che la zia Daniela aveva cercato di dimenticare, sforzandosi di non pensarci, a furia di ripeterlo divenne per lei indegno di ricordo. Castigò il suo buon senso sentendosi raccontare una dopo l’altra le centoventimila sciocchezze che l’avevano resa felice e disgraziata.

«Ormai non desidero più neppure vendicarmi», disse un mattino a Elidé. «Sono stufa marcia di questa storia».

«Come? Non mi ridiventare intelligente, adesso», disse Elidé. «Questa è sempre stata una questione di ragione offuscata: non vorrai trasformarla in qualcosa di lucido? Non sprecarla, ci manca la parte migliore: dobbiamo ancora andare a cercare quell’uomo in Europa e in Africa, in Sudamerica e in India, dobbiamo trovarlo e fare un baccano tale da giustificare i nostri viaggi. Dobbiamo ancora visitare la Galleria Pitti, vedere Firenze, innamorarci a Venezia, gettare una moneta nella Fontana di Trevi. Non vogliamo inseguire quell’uomo che ti ha fatto innamorare come un’imbecille e poi se n’è andato?».

Avevamo progettato di girare il mondo in cerca del colpevole, e questa storia che la vendetta non fosse più imprescindibile nella cura della sua amica era stata un brutto colpo per Elidé. Dovevano perdersi per l’India e il Marocco, la Bolivia e il Congo, Vienna e soprattutto l’Italia. Non aveva mai pensato di trasformarla in un essere razionale dopo averla vista paralizzata e quasi pazza quattro mesi prima.

«Dobbiamo andare a cercarlo. Non mi diventare intelligente prima del tempo», le diceva.

«E’ arrivato ieri», le rispose la zia Daniela un giorno.

«Come lo sai?»

«L’ho visto. Ha bussato al mio balcone come una volta».

«E che cosa hai provato?»

«Niente».

«E che cosa ti ha detto?»

«Tutto».

«E che cosa gli hai risposto?»

«Ho chiuso la finestra».

«E adesso?», domandò la terapista.

«Gli assenti si sbagliano sempre».

Ángeles Mastretta

[racconto tratto dal libro “Donne dagli occhi grandi”]

*traduzione di Gina Maneri

[crazy-so-na-sega]

Da un lato il dominio della tecnica, che si serve di tutte le forme di linguaggi sclerotizzati (scienza, fedi varie, politica, cazzi e lazzi) per estendere il suo dominio, dall'altro il silenzio.

Tutto il fragore di questo pentolame, che sfoga la spiacevole sensazione di impotenza e frustrazione, realizza l'unico destino attualmente possibile, lo splendore della follia.

(semicit)

[vividiste]

Suo padre lo abbandonò a 3 anni, sua figlia morì a 8 mesi, sua moglie morì in un incidente d'auto, il suo migliore amico morì di overdose. E nonostante tutto, Keanu Reeves non ha mai perso il suo splendore, il suo mondo non è mai finito.

Mentre girava il film "La casa sul lago", sentì la conversazione tra due assistenti ai costumi, e una donna stava piangendo perché avrebbe perso la sua casa se non avesse pagato una somma di 20 mila dollari. Lui glieli depositò sul conto.

Nel suo compleanno del 2010, entrò da solo in una panetteria e si comprò un cupcake con una sola candela. Mentre lo mangiava fuori, offrì caffè e pane gratis a tutti i clienti. Questo fu il suo compleanno di lusso.

Con ciò che guadagnò dalla trilogia di Matrix, distribuì 50 milioni di dollari al personale degli effetti speciali, perché secondo lui, loro erano i veri eroi dei film.

Non ha quasi mai utilizzato stuntmen, tranne che per cose molto specifiche come le acrobazie, e per questo motivo ha riconosciuto il lavoro dei suoi stuntmen regalando a ciascuno una moto Harley Davidson.

Fino ad oggi, usa regolarmente la metropolitana e altri sistemi di trasporto pubblico come l'autobus quando è necessario perché è la cosa più pratica, e non si vergogna mai.

Un gran numero di ospedali afferma di aver ricevuto decine di milioni di dollari da lui.

Ha donato il 90% del suo stipendio in alcuni film affinché la produzione potesse assumere altre star.

Nel 1997, un paparazzo lo trovò in strada seduto accanto a un senzatetto, ascoltando la vita del senzatetto e facendo colazione con lui.

Tutto il bene che sappiamo di Keanu Reeves non ce l'ha raccontato lui, ma coloro che sono stati beneficiati da lui. Non ha mai dichiarato nulla.

Per tutto ciò che ha vissuto, avrebbe potuto avere una visione della vita più triste e pessimista, ma nonostante ciò ha scelto di essere quel qualcosa di buono tra tutto il male che c'è.❤❤❤

Fonte fb