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Visualizzazione post con etichetta paganism. Mostra tutti i post

venerdì 6 gennaio 2017

Minimal magic, magia strategia minimale by Gian Berra


Strategia minimale, minimal magic







Gian Berra: l'ultimo dipinto di informale barocco 2009 in minimal magic


Nel 2009, Gian Berra, dopo aver dipinto circa 100 opere di informale barocco, chiuse questa serie con un ultimo dipinto RED CHINA che riassume tutto il contenuto emozionale della ricerca. Una opera che conteneva in sintesi un percorso di sperimentazione che ora viene pubblicata e raccontata nelle varie fasi. Minimal magic.

Gian Berra: the last painting of informal Baroque 2009, minimal magic


In 2009, Gian Berra, after having painted about 100 works of Baroque informal, closed the series with a final painting RED CHINA that sums up all the emotional content of the research. A work which contained a summary of an experimental path that is now being published and told in various stages. Minimal magic.





Totem nothing
Nothing at all. Just as it is.
Represented in "nothing" to be or exist.
Void in nothing.
Safe haven.
Gian Berra

Totem nulla
Niente di niente. Semplicemente come è.
Rappresenta in "niente" di essere o esistere.
Vuoto nel niente.
Rifugio sicuro.
Gian Berra





Red China, ritaglio 1 : Assoluto

Questo è il ritaglio 1 del quadro Red China. Splende il campo di alluminio cromato che ruba gli occhi. Esso é lievemente inclinato come per allontanare un equilibrio assoluto. La mentalità occidentale ritiene necessaria la sicurezza di possedere di un equilibrio, ma ciò è la sua debolezza assoluta. La mentalità occidentale non ha una sicurezza, perché ritiene necessario un punto di partenza, e anche essa desidera un punto di arrivo. La mentalità occidentale vive correndo in cerca di auto realizzazione, ma non ha mete perchè ha delegato ad un concetto assoluto il suo sogno.
La mentalità della civiltà orientale (cinese) non concepisce concetti assoluti definiti. La civiltà cinese costruisce la sua sicurezza sul concreto di ogni attimo.
Essa cambia il suo orientamento seguendo gli istinti e l'esperienza.
La civiltà cinese ama lo sfondo di colore rosso, che indica la forza vitale completa di ogni suo aspetto, nessuno escluso.
La civiltà cinese ama le linee oblique perché indicano vitalità e movimento ( gli occidentali temono di perdere il contatto con la sicurezza).
Una linea nera spezzata disturba l'equilibrio, lo fa con arroganza perché è nel suo diritto. Fili di luce determinano i confini degli elementi figurativi, ma lo fanno senza sicurezza, perché ogni punto fermo è una illusione.
Per la mentalità cinese le illusioni sono un gioco. Per la mentalità occidentale le illusioni sono schiavitù e sono strumenti per guidare le coscienze verso la follia.

Immagine completa del quadro Red China con i suoi territori:

Red China, cutout 1, Absolute

This is the first crop of the picture Red China. Shining chrome aluminum field that the eyes steals. It is slightly tilted as if to ward off an absolute balance. The security Western mind considers it necessary to have a balance, but this is its absolute weakness. The Western mind has no security, because it believes need a starting point, and it also wants an end point. The Western mind lives running in search of self-realization, but no goal because delegated to an absolute concept his dream.
The mentality of the eastern civilizations (Chinese) does not conceive defined absolute concepts. Chinese civilization builds its security on the concrete of each moment.
It changes its orientation following the instincts and experience.
Chinese civilization loves the red background, indicating the complete life force of every aspect, without exception.
Chinese civilization loves the oblique lines that indicate vitality and movement (Westerners fear of losing touch with the security).
A black broken line disturbs the balance, it does so with arrogance because it is within his rights. light strands determine the boundaries of the figurative elements, but they do so without security, because every milestone is an illusion.
For the Chinese mentality illusions are a game. To the Western mind illusions they are slavery and have instruments to guide the consciences towards madness.

Full image of Red China framework with its territories:













Red China, minimal magic 2: il senso di colpa

Ecco il ritaglio 2 di Red China in Minimal magic

La linea del cammino è chiara come un serpente scuro già tracciato. Basta seguirla anche perché è comodo. Sembra fermarsi in un luogo innaturale di metallo che luccica

Red China, minimal magic 2
Ecco il ritaglio 2 di Red China in Minimal magic
La linea del cammino è chiara come un serpente scuro già tracciato. Basta seguirla anche perché è comodo. Sembra fermarsi in un luogo innaturale di metallo che luccica. Attira l'attenzione, ma solo per un attimo, perché cola un po' di sofferenza lungo quel cammino.
Un occidentale a questo punto guarderebbe alla sua sofferenza patita e ne ricaverebbe malinconia, autocompiacimento o rabbia ( un islamico solo rabbia e frustrazione ).
Ma per la sensibilità di un cinese ( civiltà della Cina ) il percorso non dona importanza eccessiva a tali emozioni. Ci sono, esistono, ma è più importante osservare il campo rosso che sostiene il cammino. Non solo: Si sviluppano territori gialli frammentati appena attorno al territorio di lucente alluminio.
Per di più la mentalità orientale cinese osserva con interesse il percorso verticale quasi trasparente che attraversa la zona di alluminio.
Per lui è una zona interessante perché gli propone mille alternative, malgrado mille ostacoli che la attraversano.
Nella civiltà occidentale gli ostacoli vengono usati e affrontati per sfuggire i pesi dell'anima e per imboccare strade con entusiasmo, che nascondono il disagio del senso di colpa indotto, ( per un islamico vengono scartati, oppure sostituiti da altri percorsi già tracciati da altri ).
Per un appartenente alla civiltà cinese o giapponese gli ostacoli generano curiosità, ma non immediata azione. Essi fanno semplicemente parte della vita, e vissuti.

Red China, minimal magic 2
Here cropping 2 of Red China in Minimal magic
The line of the road is as clear as a dark snake already mapped. Just follow it because it is convenient. It seems to stand in an unnatural place from metal that glitters. Attracts attention, but only for a moment, because cola a little 'suffering on that journey.
A West at this point would look to his past pain and would procure melancholy, complacency or anger (an Islamic only anger and frustration).
But for the sensitivity of a Chinese (Chinese civilization) the course does not give too much importance to such emotions. There are, there are, but it is more important to observe the red field that sustains the journey. Not only that: They develop yellow territories fragmented just around the shiny aluminum territory.
Moreover the Chinese oriental mentality observes with interest the almost transparent vertical path that runs through the aluminum area.
For him it is an interesting area because it offers him a thousand alternatives, despite a thousand obstacles that cross.
In Western civilization obstacles are used and addressed to escape the soul weights and take roads with enthusiasm, which hide the discomfort of guilt induced, (for a Muslim are discarded, or replaced by other already traced by other routes) .
For a member of the Chinese or Japanese civilization obstacles generate curiosity, but no immediate action. They are simply part of life, and lived.










Red China, minimal magic 3



Red China, minimal magic 3: La Paura

Ecco il ritaglio 3 di Red China in Minimal magic.

Ecco la strada, la via da percorrere perché è la sola che abbiamo a disposizione in questo attimo di vita. Noi nel percorrerla pensiamo che essa sia la sola … e camminando noi ci sentiamo sicuri. Come il pensiero occidentale esamina il suo cammino?
Il pensiero occidentale conosce i suoi limiti ma anche li nasconde a sé stesso. La mentalità assoluta occidentale non ammette errori non previsti, non ammette la sua debolezza. Il pensiero occidentale non ammette la Paura; esso ha paura della Paura. Il timore del pensiero occidentale è che anche la Paura sia assoluta.
La Paura come concetto assoluto non può essere dominata, ne esaminata, ne accettata. La Paura non ha una immagine, non può averla perché è assoluta e contiene tutte le immagini possibili.
La Pura è indefinibile.
Per il pensiero occidentale la Paura ha il valore malefico e assoluto del Male.
Il pensiero occidentale non può conoscere il Male, perché è il valore inverso del Bene. Il pensiero occidentale pensa di conoscere il Bene, ma lo confonde con i suoi interessi e con le sue idee e ideologie.
Le idee e le ideologie, e le religioni su cui fa affidamento il pensiero occidentale sono la rappresentazione dei suoi desideri e delle sue paure.
Ma essi non hanno il potere di creare relazioni con i concetti assoluti che creano tali concetti.
Il pensiero occidentale è cieco.
Il pensiero cinese rappresenta la Paura con infinite immagini con cui parlare in infiniti modi. Il pensiero cinese può temere la Paura, ma sa anche farsela amica e ingannarla o lusingarla. Per esso la Paura ha un valore grande, ma mai assoluto. Per il pensiero cinese esiste sempre una via di fuga o una alternativa.
Una strada conosciuta può essere ripensata e corretta e il cammino può continuare. Tutto è relativo.
Così nel ritaglio 3 il cammino scuro passa attraverso tante prospettive colorate e poi si dirama in una deviazione che genera angoscia.
E' la sfida che la cultura cinese vince alla grande sulla cultura occidentale.


Gian Berra 2016

Red China, minimal magic 3: The Fear

Here cropping 3 of Red China in Minimal magic.

This is the path, the way to go because it is the only one available to us in this moment of life. We follow it in we think that it is the only ... and walking us feel safe. As Western thinking examines his path?
Western thought knows his limits but also hides them himself. The western mentality does not admit absolute unexpected errors, he does not admit his weakness. Western thought does not admit Fear; it is afraid of Fear. The fear of Western thought is that the fear is absolute.
Fear as an absolute concept can not be dominated, they examined, he accepted. Fear does not have an image, it can not have it because it is absolute and contains all possible images.
The Pura is indefinable.
To Western thinking Fear has the evil and absolute value of Evil.
Western thought can not know the evil, because it is the inverse value of Good. Western thought think you know the Good, but confuses him with his interests and his ideas and ideologies.
Ideas and ideologies, and religions on which relies on Western thought is the representation of his desires and his fears.
But they do not have the power to create relationships with absolute concepts that create these concepts.
Western thought is blind.
Chinese thought is the Fear with endless images to talk in endless ways. Chinese thought may fear the Fear, but also knows how to have it friend and deceive or flatter her. Fear for it has great value, but never absolute. For Chinese thought there is always an escape route or an alternative.
A road known can be rethought and correct and the path may continue. Everything is relative.
So in the cutout 3 dark path goes through many colorful perspectives and then branches out into a detour that generates anxiety.
And 'the challenge that Chinese culture wins big on Western culture.

Gian Berra 2016





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giovedì 29 marzo 2012

A tale of Gian Berra in 2012. Hymn to Pan and living roots in all of us ... Witness the Morer, the tree of the blackberries.


Gian Berra and the new paganism in Italy


Free tale in internet:
A tale of Gian Berra in 2012. Hymn to Pan and living roots in all of us ... Witness the Morer, the tree of the blackberries.

Fenola and Morer.

True story in the grave of the Piave, between Ciano and Covolo of Pederobba ....
Where the Piave makes a big loop and turns decisively towards the east, next to Crocetta and Cyan, its banks expand without limit. And 'possible to walk for hours between
stony plains and not meeting anyone. This is why I often go there and among wild grasses and sparse patches of trees can enlarge proud look how far he can go. There
I have limits and so easy to let the memories take the color of the air. Without the fancy patterns and imagine living any possible reality. He dreams and remember, exactly.
If I look to the south the eye is filled by the presence of Montello, long, low hill that keeps me company and framed like a hug the shore of Cyan.
It 'so easy to make road then, tired, I would go to a little refreshed.' So when I arrive at Croda granda, safe ride, and the inn and the very close of Fenola.
In the morning or afternoon, and there is never anyone Fenola is happy to talk. I do the rest in my pocket that I always pay me the shade of red. Sometimes also meeting
Domenico, always distracted and looking annoyed.
When I see him my heart starts to beat because I still hear him tell his story, but I have to wait Fenola is in a good mood. He does not want to hear
for nothing. He is the host and must be respected.
Today is an afternoon of those. Listless and without ideas I'm helping with a boiled egg at the end of Fenola sour wine and look out toward the poplars that shade the banks. A
Once, a little further down there was a large puddle of water, almost a lake, and the road we turned around. On the side approached the hill, the road was only a footpath that ran
for the trees. These formed a forest that mingled with the swamp.
A great Morer solitary steeply from the shore, was the head of all those trees. He grew up with no masters formed only a huge stain.
We walked past a few quiet or indifferent. He called for respect for and obtained without difficulty. The shadow of Morer was a kingdom in itself. And in this world is always dark
Maybe ... that was not a good idea, but sometimes not Menico thought. It is to be led by the wandering thoughts so long as the road no longer existed. He started toward the
serious although the evening now became almost overnight. The coolness of September was just mentioned and the hot air still invited to troubled thoughts.
What to Look For even among those rocks? Restless and inattentive Menico had already forgotten the working day and the darkness he called for no reason. He realized he was far from
when the path of the forest had already covered the evening light. The sudden darkness awoke him from dreaming and let a cold shiver would mark him as a rapid
flash. He slowed his pace, and conscious of his rhythm, he went cautiously to the water.
The sigh as if he realized he could actually hear it ... but just listened the silence left him alone and disappointed. What was that whisper that he could not hear?
Furious at what eluded him, he sat on the sand, between two large oaks, and looking towards the water near the left wandering attention as when he dreamed. He dreamed with the
mind and thoughts were free, but with eyes watching the world from afar. So, deceiving his anger, let go what he saw in himself he felt. Out of the corner
eye he noticed a movement in the darkness to his left. He knew he could not turn his head, he felt that if he did everything would be gone. I just knew.
He let himself be guided by instinct and pretending to look at the swamp, turned her face carefully enough to observe. And then with infinite slowness, trying to hide
its voltage, shifted his gaze with feigned indifference. Under the great Morer a dark lump moved. Not immediately tried to figure out, but he let it out to him the scene: A
thick, hunched figure, bent and stretched, was sitting on top of another figure, supported the huge trunk. Puffs and puffs made tense and agitated manner, and the air felt Menico
awaken the blood. His body could not ignore the desire and already replied to the hidden dream. His neck was pressing into his trousers and demanded attention: Those two
wafted fury of life with muffled screams.
What he was on was too bent over the girl, but was restless and was moaning like a cry almost whispered. She welcomed him hugging him and pulling
toward moving in waves slow and rhythmic.
Then little by little the silence began to dominate the moments. The two were still embraced in one form Menico dark for fear of being seen she also stopped
breathe.
Waves of musk sailed as low air paths between the logs. It seemed that even the trees waiting for the summit which called relief and liberation. But time
seemed never to pass and everything was on hold in tension; Menico lived this as part of what was happening.
 Menico already lost your attention, a vaguely hypnotic sleep numbed him and made it heavy, slow ... I nearly choked when he stood up to be an impressive, with
crooked legs and a hump, shoulders and boundless small head, tried to get in balance. But Menico shuddered when he saw and would not believe. He had the horns: they were
small and curved backward like the goats.
Menico froze like ice. The eyes moved over her and then saw her relaxed, leaning against the great Morer, with legs apart and arms hanging on
hips.
She was white as the moon, smooth and almost transparent. A body immature but eager for life. Her face was delicate, small, round, glowing with blue reflections. Hair
smooth and clear fell to her shoulders. A strand of silver thread between her thighs stood out proud that greeted his eyes.
She looked at the giant with a natural interest, and absorbed him up ... and saw his image Menico.
She did not move his eyes, but saw him. Menico felt itself sciogliesi all will. The endless sea and it seemed clear it was wrapping every thought.
He tried to rebel as a part of himself, wounded, cried out against it.
The heart seemed to burst in his chest and hands clawing the sand. With a painful shot his eyes off her and was immediately captured by the gaze of Him
Eyes of fire, and looked away judged. Then he became hatred. Now he had turned toward him. His hairy thighs framed a sharp pain and exaggerated. Black
in black. The feet were small, almost clogs, and saw a hint of a tail. Even the giant was about to shoot when you took his hairy wrist and held him.
Domenico found himself stuck staring at them both and trembling, finally listened to his fear. He jumped without looking and ran into the street without thinking even more. Overcame of a
jumped the banks lonely and dark. He saw the fields where the corn is dried up, he felt frightened squeaks of sewer rats disturbed. He ran and ran until he found himself
near the house of lords Matiol. Then he sat down behind a pile of hay, and allowed himself to cry without shame.
The moon above consoled him, but it was useless.
Domenico had wet his pants, and now carried within itself the dream of all dreams. He could not go home like this. No he had seen her, and her image was fused to its
cuore.Menico had seen him, and nobody but him would have been more terrible.
 He decided to remain with the moon, at least for that night.

***

Bluette clutched him Bronza. He already furiously clutching the neck of the human in the dream. The old anger and despair without end was already erasing the pleasure
she had given him. But would not allow Bluette Bronza furious, destroying what was coming. Pulled him strong with his hand and led her proud member inside her.
The squeezed and hugged him again with enthusiasm and warmth.
Bronzes felt the fire and ruin, but the heat and moisture deep Bluette erased and used to dilute the tension. He sank to the bottom of her again. He allowed
to his kidneys to sow still life. Its.
It still took him Bluette itself. Again and again ... He lived on his momentum and was enjoying its done.
Then slowly the tension vanished in moments. Any thoughts subsided, and Bronza dropped in the bed of leaves next to you He dreamed with his eyes half closed and the absent
enjoyment of anything. Now, almost happy and contented, let the thread remain beyond the focus of anger and memories. Gave away the thoughts of revenge and blood and
fell asleep.
But she folded her arms across her breasts naked, imagining a cold shiver. The man had seen her and Bronza. This surprised her. Throughout his life he had never wet nymph
noted that humans could see the people of life.
Those arrogant monkeys were blind to the great world.
But the man was a young boy and she had caught his attention. Still had the pleasure of abandonment to Bronza. But the thrill of winning slim
human was sweet as honey. And the honey in the fall was over. Or not?

***

Domenico did not come home that night. He slept in the barn next to the small fountain. Then she showed him busy in the garden of the house. As we were up early. His mother
asked him something, but then thought no more and left him alone.
Instead Menico no longer saw things. What time was it? Where to go? But now what was there to do? And the planed sides of you were there before him and asked to be
petted. The skin of a young girl, bright blue and had no solid form, but he took one of her desire. Her eyes were a slice of the infinite, and begged him to come to worship. His mouth was a little girl to enjoy the fruit ...
The belly Menico was a tension that he wanted. The sex of Menico claimed. And the day did not know anything. He was alone. But tonight he would be back there. Of course you do!
She wanted that life.
The evening of September here on the Piave Ciano, are long and warm and smells of summer still linger in the still air. But a vague sense of unease, hidden
under the crust of the things you see, makes restless hearts. Especially those who want to meet and have to rush to touch and enjoy being there. So
Domenico came almost running to the woods of Morer, but then when she was a few steps hid and listened. Nothing and no one was present. Distant echoes emphasized
silence indifferent to its tension. He went to the sand and Morer said nothing of the memories that he had inside.
He sat leaning on the trunk and slowly let himself be enveloped by darkness. The accepted as part of self and thoughts subsided.
Bluette heard him when he was still hidden on the side of the forest. Floor approached by studying his attention. Still he had not seen it, but it seemed sure of himself: he
hid well his desire. He wanted: a human!
He walked a little and went cautiously dark shadow of an acacia tree, right across the clearing.
And Menico dreaming with open eyes could not see her until a spark lit the hidden part of his right eye and turned on his desire. The heart started, and you
stopped breathing. Her back stiffened and his eyes only knew where to look. He saw her coming out of the darkness as if walking on a cloud. She shone the light
own and looked confident. His arms were falling natural framed by long hair and small breasts but pride is showing. The belly invited to his tuft of
life and her long legs barely moved, slow and safe. He was captured by qurgli eyes. They were drowning in a sea of.
When she was the closest he seemed to enter into the light that enveloped the world and of all time no longer existed.
Words were not necessary and he did not recall ever touching her. But when he came in she was like if you were annulled in the great sea of ​​life and lost its identity
dreaming and enjoying his embrace. He had tried to heaven and wanted nothing more.
He felt its forms and stroked her velvet and each stroke was the sweetest. The pleasure of existence and life was a reality. The humid, in which he moved was the invitation to
an eternity of bliss without end ...
Then her eyes watching him in, let him play with the colors and the infinite. He knew when it ended.
When gradually brought him back the rest of the world. Forded with her near him, he felt no pain detachment. She did not allow his heart to suffer and remained
close until sleep overcame him.

° ° °
Bluette slowly pulled away from the human. Light as a leaf allowed him to remain in the dream that kidnapped and gave him joy. She had captured his heart and he now
was his forever. Now that monkey man had experienced the infinite and his eyes wandered over the fog ever.
She felt within him the strength he had given her with his desire. It tasted different from what Bronza gave her: that she did not know Menico of arrogance. It was quite similar to that of children who have no limits, and dare the game, but they also want to be reassured.
So thanks to the bond she had created, he kept himself in this new flavor. A new color filled her in and Bluette knew he had won.
Then the cold night air Menico awoke, surprised to find that there are listlessly dressed. He saw the moon, and the darkness around him was like a velvet blanket. She was gone. But it was as if he were still with him. The inside felt like a conquered thing. He made her his.
A part of him wanted it touching, and even look into my eyes, but knew that would not come. He touched the sky and things would never be the same.
Domenico went sadly toward Cyan. Now the eyes could see the shadows of the trees almost alive, and away he noticed strange reflections on Montello darting over the forest. He felt the
owl call, and for the first time he felt no discomfort, and indeed wanted to reply to the salutation. This was enough to give him a little heat.
Menico felt the world go around him, and this feeling filled him and comforted him ...
Domenico was no longer alone.

° ° ° °

Some years later, in a September afternoon, Fenola was restless. It was always when they came to his inn Menico and Gian. Those two looked like they could agree. And they were always in the oddest times. What day is today? Already today, and tomorrow is Friday the tourists start arriving from Treviso and Venice. They are the ones that fill the inn every weekend. If Fenola had to rely on the inhabitants of Cyan or Covolo, he would have already closed the tavern.
He sees in the distance that the two greet each other: Menico back to Cyan and Gian sets off down the grave, to Covolo. Already, there Menico Among Fenola and an old rust ...
Fenola remember that time when his father, a year before he died and that left the tavern for an inheritance, he wanted to cut the big tree of the blackberries for its wood. He called two of his friends to help him.
They cut down the trunk with great toil and sweat, but the wood lasted long. Remember that when Menico heard about it, ran the inn screaming that they had done something
disgusting. It was the first time I saw Menico angry, red-faced. It seemed crazy, and then he started crying like a baby! Before his mother and then also
others present had comforted offering him a hint of red wine and a sandwich with anchovies. Then Menico calmed down and no more was said. Domenico had never married and lived alone
on the banks, but at least once a week was the inn. But for the tastes of Fenola was too dazed. Now, however, was to prepare the inn for the end
week ...
Already. I know that I'll spend time to call for going into old stories. But I hasten to add that surely someone has seen. No one wants to speak and ashamed. But I
does not matter. I want to say this at least once here that nobody knows me and although I take to be mad not give a damn.
It is said that a dark shadow occasionally shoots where there was once a large tree of the blackberries.
The shadow is black and large, also appears to have horns and a tail. Has anyone seen the eyes of that monster are red and full of fury and anger.
Who has seen the devil in that place we came back.

© 2012 Gian Berra












Gian Berra hippie in 1972




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domenica 27 dicembre 2009

A tale of Gian Berra in 2012. Hymn to Pan and living roots in all of us ... Witness the Morer, the tree of the blackberries.




 Gian Berra hippie in 1972



free in internet for USA people...



A tale of Gian Berra in 2012. Hymn to Pan and living roots in all of us ... Witness the Morer, the tree of the blackberries.

Fenola and Morer.

True story in the grave of the Piave, between Ciano and Covolo of Pederobba ....
Where the Piave makes a big loop and turns decisively towards the east, next to Crocetta and Cyan, its banks expand without limit. And 'possible to walk for hours between
stony plains and not meeting anyone. This is why I often go there and among wild grasses and sparse patches of trees can enlarge proud look how far he can go. There
I have limits and so easy to let the memories take the color of the air. Without the fancy patterns and imagine living any possible reality. He dreams and remember, exactly.
If I look to the south the eye is filled by the presence of Montello, long, low hill that keeps me company and framed like a hug the shore of Cyan.
It 'so easy to make road then, tired, I would go to a little refreshed.' So when I arrive at Croda granda, safe ride, and the inn and the very close of Fenola.
In the morning or afternoon, and there is never anyone Fenola is happy to talk. I do the rest in my pocket that I always pay me the shade of red. Sometimes also meeting
Domenico, always distracted and looking annoyed.
When I see him my heart starts to beat because I still hear him tell his story, but I have to wait Fenola is in a good mood. He does not want to hear
for nothing. He is the host and must be respected.
Today is an afternoon of those. Listless and without ideas I'm helping with a boiled egg at the end of Fenola sour wine and look out toward the poplars that shade the banks. A
Once, a little further down there was a large puddle of water, almost a lake, and the road we turned around. On the side approached the hill, the road was only a footpath that ran
for the trees. These formed a forest that mingled with the swamp.
A great Morer solitary steeply from the shore, was the head of all those trees. He grew up with no masters formed only a huge stain.
We walked past a few quiet or indifferent. He called for respect for and obtained without difficulty. The shadow of Morer was a kingdom in itself. And in this world is always dark
Maybe ... that was not a good idea, but sometimes not Menico thought. It is to be led by the wandering thoughts so long as the road no longer existed. He started toward the
serious although the evening now became almost overnight. The coolness of September was just mentioned and the hot air still invited to troubled thoughts.
What to Look For even among those rocks? Restless and inattentive Menico had already forgotten the working day and the darkness he called for no reason. He realized he was far from
when the path of the forest had already covered the evening light. The sudden darkness awoke him from dreaming and let a cold shiver would mark him as a rapid
flash. He slowed his pace, and conscious of his rhythm, he went cautiously to the water.
The sigh as if he realized he could actually hear it ... but just listened the silence left him alone and disappointed. What was that whisper that he could not hear?
Furious at what eluded him, he sat on the sand, between two large oaks, and looking towards the water near the left wandering attention as when he dreamed. He dreamed with the
mind and thoughts were free, but with eyes watching the world from afar. So, deceiving his anger, let go what he saw in himself he felt. Out of the corner
eye he noticed a movement in the darkness to his left. He knew he could not turn his head, he felt that if he did everything would be gone. I just knew.
He let himself be guided by instinct and pretending to look at the swamp, turned her face carefully enough to observe. And then with infinite slowness, trying to hide
its voltage, shifted his gaze with feigned indifference. Under the great Morer a dark lump moved. Not immediately tried to figure out, but he let it out to him the scene: A
thick, hunched figure, bent and stretched, was sitting on top of another figure, supported the huge trunk. Puffs and puffs made tense and agitated manner, and the air felt Menico
awaken the blood. His body could not ignore the desire and already replied to the hidden dream. His neck was pressing into his trousers and demanded attention: Those two
wafted fury of life with muffled screams.
What he was on was too bent over the girl, but was restless and was moaning like a cry almost whispered. She welcomed him hugging him and pulling
toward moving in waves slow and rhythmic.
Then little by little the silence began to dominate the moments. The two were still embraced in one form Menico dark for fear of being seen she also stopped
breathe.
Waves of musk sailed as low air paths between the logs. It seemed that even the trees waiting for the summit which called relief and liberation. But time
seemed never to pass and everything was on hold in tension; Menico lived this as part of what was happening.
 Menico already lost your attention, a vaguely hypnotic sleep numbed him and made it heavy, slow ... I nearly choked when he stood up to be an impressive, with
crooked legs and a hump, shoulders and boundless small head, tried to get in balance. But Menico shuddered when he saw and would not believe. He had the horns: they were
small and curved backward like the goats.
Menico froze like ice. The eyes moved over her and then saw her relaxed, leaning against the great Morer, with legs apart and arms hanging on
hips.
She was white as the moon, smooth and almost transparent. A body immature but eager for life. Her face was delicate, small, round, glowing with blue reflections. Hair
smooth and clear fell to her shoulders. A strand of silver thread between her thighs stood out proud that greeted his eyes.
She looked at the giant with a natural interest, and absorbed him up ... and saw his image Menico.
She did not move his eyes, but saw him. Menico felt itself sciogliesi all will. The endless sea and it seemed clear it was wrapping every thought.
He tried to rebel as a part of himself, wounded, cried out against it.
The heart seemed to burst in his chest and hands clawing the sand. With a painful shot his eyes off her and was immediately captured by the gaze of Him
Eyes of fire, and looked away judged. Then he became hatred. Now he had turned toward him. His hairy thighs framed a sharp pain and exaggerated. Black
in black. The feet were small, almost clogs, and saw a hint of a tail. Even the giant was about to shoot when you took his hairy wrist and held him.
Domenico found himself stuck staring at them both and trembling, finally listened to his fear. He jumped without looking and ran into the street without thinking even more. Overcame of a
jumped the banks lonely and dark. He saw the fields where the corn is dried up, he felt frightened squeaks of sewer rats disturbed. He ran and ran until he found himself
near the house of lords Matiol. Then he sat down behind a pile of hay, and allowed himself to cry without shame.
The moon above consoled him, but it was useless.
Domenico had wet his pants, and now carried within itself the dream of all dreams. He could not go home like this. No he had seen her, and her image was fused to its
cuore.Menico had seen him, and nobody but him would have been more terrible.
 He decided to remain with the moon, at least for that night.

***

Bluette clutched him Bronza. He already furiously clutching the neck of the human in the dream. The old anger and despair without end was already erasing the pleasure
she had given him. But would not allow Bluette Bronza furious, destroying what was coming. Pulled him strong with his hand and led her proud member inside her.
The squeezed and hugged him again with enthusiasm and warmth.
Bronzes felt the fire and ruin, but the heat and moisture deep Bluette erased and used to dilute the tension. He sank to the bottom of her again. He allowed
to his kidneys to sow still life. Its.
It still took him Bluette itself. Again and again ... He lived on his momentum and was enjoying its done.
Then slowly the tension vanished in moments. Any thoughts subsided, and Bronza dropped in the bed of leaves next to you He dreamed with his eyes half closed and the absent
enjoyment of anything. Now, almost happy and contented, let the thread remain beyond the focus of anger and memories. Gave away the thoughts of revenge and blood and
fell asleep.
But she folded her arms across her breasts naked, imagining a cold shiver. The man had seen her and Bronza. This surprised her. Throughout his life he had never wet nymph
noted that humans could see the people of life.
Those arrogant monkeys were blind to the great world.
But the man was a young boy and she had caught his attention. Still had the pleasure of abandonment to Bronza. But the thrill of winning slim
human was sweet as honey. And the honey in the fall was over. Or not?

***

Domenico did not come home that night. He slept in the barn next to the small fountain. Then she showed him busy in the garden of the house. As we were up early. His mother
asked him something, but then thought no more and left him alone.
Instead Menico no longer saw things. What time was it? Where to go? But now what was there to do? And the planed sides of you were there before him and asked to be
petted. The skin of a young girl, bright blue and had no solid form, but he took one of her desire. Her eyes were a slice of the infinite, and begged him to come to worship. His mouth was a little girl to enjoy the fruit ...
The belly Menico was a tension that he wanted. The sex of Menico claimed. And the day did not know anything. He was alone. But tonight he would be back there. Of course you do!
She wanted that life.
The evening of September here on the Piave Ciano, are long and warm and smells of summer still linger in the still air. But a vague sense of unease, hidden
under the crust of the things you see, makes restless hearts. Especially those who want to meet and have to rush to touch and enjoy being there. So
Domenico came almost running to the woods of Morer, but then when she was a few steps hid and listened. Nothing and no one was present. Distant echoes emphasized
silence indifferent to its tension. He went to the sand and Morer said nothing of the memories that he had inside.
He sat leaning on the trunk and slowly let himself be enveloped by darkness. The accepted as part of self and thoughts subsided.
Bluette heard him when he was still hidden on the side of the forest. Floor approached by studying his attention. Still he had not seen it, but it seemed sure of himself: he
hid well his desire. He wanted: a human!
He walked a little and went cautiously dark shadow of an acacia tree, right across the clearing.
And Menico dreaming with open eyes could not see her until a spark lit the hidden part of his right eye and turned on his desire. The heart started, and you
stopped breathing. Her back stiffened and his eyes only knew where to look. He saw her coming out of the darkness as if walking on a cloud. She shone the light
own and looked confident. His arms were falling natural framed by long hair and small breasts but pride is showing. The belly invited to his tuft of
life and her long legs barely moved, slow and safe. He was captured by qurgli eyes. They were drowning in a sea of.
When she was the closest he seemed to enter into the light that enveloped the world and of all time no longer existed.
Words were not necessary and he did not recall ever touching her. But when he came in she was like if you were annulled in the great sea of ​​life and lost its identity
dreaming and enjoying his embrace. He had tried to heaven and wanted nothing more.
He felt its forms and stroked her velvet and each stroke was the sweetest. The pleasure of existence and life was a reality. The humid, in which he moved was the invitation to
an eternity of bliss without end ...
Then her eyes watching him in, let him play with the colors and the infinite. He knew when it ended.
When gradually brought him back the rest of the world. Forded with her near him, he felt no pain detachment. She did not allow his heart to suffer and remained
close until sleep overcame him.

° ° °
Bluette slowly pulled away from the human. Light as a leaf allowed him to remain in the dream that kidnapped and gave him joy. She had captured his heart and he now
was his forever. Now that monkey man had experienced the infinite and his eyes wandered over the fog ever.
She felt within him the strength he had given her with his desire. It tasted different from what Bronza gave her: that she did not know Menico of arrogance. It was quite similar to that of children who have no limits, and dare the game, but they also want to be reassured.
So thanks to the bond she had created, he kept himself in this new flavor. A new color filled her in and Bluette knew he had won.
Then the cold night air Menico awoke, surprised to find that there are listlessly dressed. He saw the moon, and the darkness around him was like a velvet blanket. She was gone. But it was as if he were still with him. The inside felt like a conquered thing. He made her his.
A part of him wanted it touching, and even look into my eyes, but knew that would not come. He touched the sky and things would never be the same.
Domenico went sadly toward Cyan. Now the eyes could see the shadows of the trees almost alive, and away he noticed strange reflections on Montello darting over the forest. He felt the
owl call, and for the first time he felt no discomfort, and indeed wanted to reply to the salutation. This was enough to give him a little heat.
Menico felt the world go around him, and this feeling filled him and comforted him ...
Domenico was no longer alone.

° ° ° °

Some years later, in a September afternoon, Fenola was restless. It was always when they came to his inn Menico and Gian. Those two looked like they could agree. And they were always in the oddest times. What day is today? Already today, and tomorrow is Friday the tourists start arriving from Treviso and Venice. They are the ones that fill the inn every weekend. If Fenola had to rely on the inhabitants of Cyan or Covolo, he would have already closed the tavern.
He sees in the distance that the two greet each other: Menico back to Cyan and Gian sets off down the grave, to Covolo. Already, there Menico Among Fenola and an old rust ...
Fenola remember that time when his father, a year before he died and that left the tavern for an inheritance, he wanted to cut the big tree of the blackberries for its wood. He called two of his friends to help him.
They cut down the trunk with great toil and sweat, but the wood lasted long. Remember that when Menico heard about it, ran the inn screaming that they had done something
disgusting. It was the first time I saw Menico angry, red-faced. It seemed crazy, and then he started crying like a baby! Before his mother and then also
others present had comforted offering him a hint of red wine and a sandwich with anchovies. Then Menico calmed down and no more was said. Domenico had never married and lived alone
on the banks, but at least once a week was the inn. But for the tastes of Fenola was too dazed. Now, however, was to prepare the inn for the end
week ...
Already. I know that I'll spend time to call for going into old stories. But I hasten to add that surely someone has seen. No one wants to speak and ashamed. But I
does not matter. I want to say this at least once here that nobody knows me and although I take to be mad not give a damn.
It is said that a dark shadow occasionally shoots where there was once a large tree of the blackberries.
The shadow is black and large, also appears to have horns and a tail. Has anyone seen the eyes of that monster are red and full of fury and anger.
Who has seen the devil in that place we came back.

© 2012 Gian Berra




Gian Berra is hoping for Obama...

I wonder if Obama will do it. But who will make many dreams afresh perhaps I am just Gian-berra and this web space I have available cheaply for my share of  Gian Berra











Chissà se Obama ce la farà. Ma chi ha tanti sogni forse quancosa saprà fare- Io sono solo Gian berra e ho a disposizione questo spazio web a poco prezzo per la mia parte di  Gian Berra

http://utenti.lycos.it/gianberra2/

Gian Berra spera in Obama

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new GENERAL OPERATIONAL SHAMANIC PSYCHOLOGY. Gian Berra

  new GENERAL OPERATIONAL SHAMANIC PSYCHOLOGY. Gian Berra Third version complete with illustrations.  Added new chapters with interview with...