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The Order of Thrones. Magic Box





Favella 3000 From: "Who he remembered? "

Small note - because of language too naive at times we felt the need to make minor changes to the original text, while keeping intact lo spirito dell’autore.


Sono trascorsi tre anni dal mio arrivo su quest’isola che credevo deserta.
Come faccio a saperlo? Di solito facevo la ceretta una volta a settimana, ora adotto metodi meno civili, ma a conti fatti saranno tre anni.
Mi sembra ieri, quando me ne stavo tranquillo a far risplendere il mio corpo oliato sul ponte della nave.
Poi, l’esplosione.
Abbiamo iniziato ad imbarcare acqua ed il resto è stato esattamente come quel documentario con Leonardo Di Caprio, o forse non era un documentario.
“Si salvi chi può” è un inno alla vita, più della lampada solare, più dell’happy hour, più del calcio…vabbé, perhaps more than football but the point was to survive and I thought 'I can. " Now I can say that
sopravvivei, sopravvicqui, sopravvivissi ... erm ... I'm alive.

Just when everything was over, the ship sank, people sucked, the sharks had eaten enough and the unbearable itching of the face, caused by salt water, had passed, I found myself on a small piece of flooring with a child and a woman in her forties.
I am a man, and men know what to do, study the situation and make sacrifices if necessary.

is why according to my calculations I have seen fit to throw into the sea: the little she would not ever done and she asked me if I liked the philosophy.
After days to see my tonic decrease muscle mass I got here.
I knelt and I prayed thanking her, the Queen Mother of all of us poor souls without agency: Mary.

Since then much has happened, what I thought was rather deserted island populated by a tribe of natives. They speak a language incomprehensible, but we ourselves, with the subjunctive and conditional, who are we to criticize?
However, I've squared, children, blacks, thin ... no, the exiles are those who go into exile, and they were skinny enough.
did not take long to become their leader, was enough to show him my sculpted body, the angel wings tattooed on his back and the chest and Mary and Maurice must have thought I was a god.
Now I have a throne, all mine, their women, all of them, and do not have to choose one by May.
of life on earth I was doing a little part of me now.
I decided to found a new religion and I have fertilized twice, in these three years, forty women of the village. I have my small band of followers: the children of Mary.
Oh, Mary, if only I could see them.

I'm fine, I have my football team, my league, a sort of triangular with two teams that I always win.
I miss my mother, but I know that with my attitude I have not disappointed, right mom? Joked one time that you told me to get a job, like you and Dad, you do not I'd ever this cruel, right mom?
Finally, I decided to give this letter to the sea with the blood of one of the skinny types.
I would like to reassure you all please stop damn for me, I know that I miss you and I left a blank television unbridgeable. But I feel good here.
only a desire, a gift from you. I ask you to take me, no matter when, the only real source of joy for me, the only engine that has helped me to bear sad awakenings: the mirror. Your

C.

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I have a secret place.
I've put in a candle lit, a small notebook, a soap bubble, a slap, the first comic.
I packed everything pretty well, the narrow white ribbon on a blue background on my apron.
I brought forward in time thinking of going right, but the weather is like a kiss on the corner of a smile, as the soul of a clown as my wet eyes to the ceiling.
I was in prison, and again at the start, I loose a bow, I looked inside and there was more.
I was there, in your secret place that only you know.





I know it's a bad copy of the tales of Bartoli, but I wrote it in exactly two minutes without thinking.

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Fortunately, the King is dead. The





May 20, 1970.
In Italy is launched the Workers' Statute and Mark, who left a fingerprint twenty fat on a dream, he returns home after eight hours at the factory, she thinks and writes a song.
A few days later, a local pimp and intellectual, a true hero pronounces his name into the microphone and everyone knows that music is for her, the emancipated girl dancing in the front row.
The evening ends, the sheets in his body, all night ... and cabbage, at six in the new assembly line.

End of September 1986. With
official date "October 1986" the Italian newsstands know a handsome young Londoner. Months went by and Craven Road 7 is the way of the heart, too difficult to achieve at least the guy at one meter from Martha, a girl who sees REM in ninety-eight boards. He understands nothing but football takes the assist of the comic and that meter is behind us.
The rest say it's chemistry, but we have not studied and we call it love.

February 1996. Pippo Baudo
steals the victory of the Festival of San Remo to Elio e le Storie Tese. A
Luca run in seven eighths, as ex-La Terra dei Cachi.
The next day he finds himself at the cinema with a girl with whom he has spoken twice, with the complicity of the only friends and friends of friends.
The secret is to talk, listen.
And two strangers can have a pleasant evening, because it makes you feel good to feel stupid.

2008.
Toto broke up, Richard Wright has died and also I do not feel so well.
Meanwhile, Stephen and Anna, sixteen assault, they decided that three months may be enough to chat and meet in front of a bar, after all, as if they had known all along.
Freud wrote: "... touching, body contact is the immediate goal of the investment object is aggressive, is that of love ... but the isolation is the abolition the possibility of contact ... "
They do not know this and improvised music that does not know.
a disaster.
Pino said: Children should be placed in the sun, because they know where it's cold and where there is more heat. But at home, the weather is up to you.
A gentleman sitting at the bar, born in 1935, keeps them away. They are distant, cold.
picks up a broom and seven of diamonds by smiles, he thinks that, fortunately, the King is dead.