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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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domenica 20 dicembre 2009

Eine Geschichte von Gian Berra im Jahr 2012. Hymne an Pan und lebenden Wurzeln in uns allen ... Erleben Sie die Morer, der Baum der Brombeeren.
















In attesa che il pittore Gian Berra ...tiri le cuoia...
Non ci credete? Eppure noi che amiamo Gian Berra per quello che è ora ( non per quello che sarà quando sarà morto) sappiamo che una gran massa di persone stanno aspettando con ansia mal celata il suo kaputt. Detengono in casa quadri del pittore comprati a poco prezzo quando Gian Berra faceva la fame. Rubati all'artista per una patata lessa e tre cipolle. 
E' gente infima che non ama l'arte, Non ne sa che farsene, ma può sfruttarla se il pittore muore e così i dipinti che hanno in casa diventano preziosi. Gente che assomiglia ai miserabili che vivono di chiacchere e di falsità.
Non comprate quei quadri. Sanno di fame e di sangue vecchio. 
Invece cercate il maestro e fategli le lodi e lui gongolerà soddisfatto e vivrà molti anni di più con attimi felici.

Buon anno 2010 davvero buono. Gli amici sinceri di Gian Berra





Eine Geschichte von Gian Berra im Jahr 2012. Hymne an Pan und lebenden Wurzeln in uns allen ... Erleben Sie die Morer, der Baum der Brombeeren.


Fenola und Morer.


Eine wahre Geschichte in dem Grab des Piave, zwischen Ciano und Covolo von Pederobba ....
Wo die Piave eine große Schleife macht und dreht sich entscheidend in Richtung Osten, neben Crocetta und Cyan, seine Banken unbegrenzt erweitern. Und 'möglich, für die Stunden zwischen Fuß
steinigen Ebenen und nicht jemandem zu begegnen. Deshalb habe ich es oft zu gehen und unter wilden Gräsern und spärliche Baumgruppen kann stolzen Blick zu vergrößern, wie weit er gehen kann. Dort
Ich habe Grenzen und so einfach zu lassen, die Erinnerungen nehmen Sie die Farbe der Luft. Ohne die ausgefallenen Mustern und sich vorstellen, eine mögliche Realität. Er träumt und denken Sie daran, genau.
Wenn ich in den Süden schauen das Auge wird durch die Anwesenheit von Montello, langen, niedrigen Hügel, der mir Gesellschaft hält und gerahmt wie eine Umarmung der Küste von Cyan gefüllt.
Es "so einfach zu machen, dann Straße, müde, würde ich zu einem kleinen erfrischt gehen. ' Also, wenn ich bei Croda Granda, sichere Fahrt, und das Gasthaus und die sehr nahe der Fenola ankommen.
In der Vor-oder Nachmittag, und es gibt nie jemanden Fenola freut sich reden. Ich tue den Rest in meine Tasche, die ich immer zahlen mir die Rot-Ton. Manchmal treffen auch
Domenico, immer abgelenkt und sah verärgert.
Wenn ich ihn sehe mein Herz beginnt zu schlagen, weil ich höre immer noch ihn seine Geschichte erzählen, aber ich muss warten Fenola ist in einer guten Stimmung. Er will nicht hören
für nichts. Er ist der Gastgeber und muss respektiert werden.
Heute Nachmittag ist eine von denen. Lustlos und ohne Ideen, die ich mit einem gekochten Ei helfen, bin am Ende des Fenola saurem Wein und halten Sie Ausschau nach den Pappeln, die Schatten der Banken. Ein
Einmal, ein wenig weiter unten gab es eine große Wasserpfütze, fast ein See, und der Weg, den wir drehte sich um. Auf der Seite näherte sich dem Hügel war die Strasse nur ein Wanderweg, der lief
für die Bäume. Diese bildeten einen Wald, der mit dem Sumpf vermischt.
Ein großer Morer einsamen steil von der Küste entfernt, war die Hauptstadt aller dieser Bäume. Er wuchs mit noch keine Meister bildeten nur ein riesiger Fleck.
Wir gingen vorbei an ein paar ruhige oder gleichgültig. Er rief zur Achtung und erhalten ohne Schwierigkeiten. Der Schatten des Morer war ein Reich für sich. Und in dieser Welt ist immer dunkel
Vielleicht ... das war keine gute Idee, aber manchmal nicht Domenico dachte. Es ist von den wandernden Gedanken, so lange die Straße nicht mehr existierte geführt werden. Er ging auf die
ernst, obwohl der Abend nun wurde fast über Nacht. Die Kühle des September wurde gerade erwähnt und die heiße Luft noch zu sorgenvollen Gedanken eingeladen.
Was soll auch unter den Felsen schauen? Unruhig und unaufmerksam Domenico hatte bereits den Arbeitstag und die Finsternis ohne Grund nannte vergessen. Er erkannte, war er weit davon entfernt
wenn der Pfad des Waldes hatte bereits das Abendlicht abgedeckt. Die plötzliche Dunkelheit weckte ihn aus und lassen träumen ein kalter Schauer würde ihn als einen schnellen markieren
Blitz. Er verlangsamte seinen Schritt, und im Bewußtsein seiner Rhythmus, ging er vorsichtig auf dem Wasser.
Der Seufzer, als ob er erkannte, konnte er es wirklich hören ... sondern hörte nur die Stille ließ ihn allein und enttäuscht. Was war das Flüstern, er könne nicht hören?
Erzürnt über, was ihm entgangen, saß er auf dem Sand, zwischen zwei großen Eichen und mit Blick auf das Wasser in der Nähe des linken wandernde Aufmerksamkeit als wenn er träumte. Er träumte davon, mit der
Geist und Gedanken waren frei, aber mit den Augen sehen die Welt aus der Ferne. Also, betrügt seine Wut, loszulassen, was er in sich selbst sah er sich fühlte. Aus den Augenwinkeln
Auge bemerkte er eine Bewegung in der Dunkelheit zu seiner Linken. Er wusste, er konnte den Kopf nicht drehen, fühlte er, dass, wenn er tat alles gegangen wäre. Ich wusste einfach.
Er ließ sich vom Instinkt leiten zu lassen und so zu tun, um den Sumpf zu sehen, drehte ihr Gesicht sorgfältig genug, um zu beobachten. Und dann mit unendlicher Langsamkeit, versucht sich zu verstecken
seine Spannung, verlagerte seinen Blick mit gespielter Gleichgültigkeit. Unter der großen Morer ein dunkler Klumpen bewegt. Nicht sofort versuchte herauszufinden, aber er ließ es ihm die Szene: Ein
dick, gebeugte Gestalt, gebeugt und gestreckt, wurde auf einer anderen Figur sitzt, unterstützt den riesigen Kofferraum. Puffs und Puffs gemacht angespannt und aufgeregt Weise, und die Luft fühlte sich Domenico
Das Blut erwecken. Sein Körper konnte nicht ignorieren den Wunsch und die bereits beantworteten den verborgenen Traum. Sein Hals wurde in seiner Hose drücken und verlangte Aufmerksamkeit: Die beiden
wehte Wut des Lebens mit gedämpften Schreie.
Was war er auf wurde auch über das Mädchen beugte, war aber unruhig und wurde wie ein Schrei fast flüsterte stöhnen. Sie begrüßte ihn umarmt ihn und Ziehen
Richtung bewegt sich in Wellen langsam und rhythmisch.
Dann nach und nach die Stille begann, die Momente dominieren. Die beiden wurden noch in irgendeiner Form Domenico dunkel aus Angst, sie sehen auch gestoppt umarmte
atmen.
Waves von Moschus segelte so niedrig Luftwege zwischen den Protokollen. Es schien, dass sogar die Bäume für den Gipfel, der Erleichterung und Befreiung genannt warten. Aber die Zeit
schien nie zu passieren und alles war auf Eis unter Spannung; Domenico lebte dies als Teil dessen, was geschah.
 Domenico schon verloren Ihre Aufmerksamkeit, betäubt ein vage hypnotischen Schlaf und machte es ihm schwer, langsam ... Ich bin fast erstickt, als er aufstand, um ein eindrucksvolles sein, mit
krummen Beinen und einem Buckel, Schultern und grenzenlose kleinen Kopf, versuchte, in Balance zu bekommen. Aber Domenico schauderte, als er sah, und wollte es nicht glauben. Er hatte die Hörner: Sie waren
Klein-und rückwärts gekrümmt wie die Ziegen.
Domenico fror wie Eis. Die Augen bewegten sich über sie und dann sah sie entspannt und lehnte sich gegen den großen Morer, mit gespreizten Beinen und hängenden Armen auf
Hüften.
Sie war weiß wie der Mond, glatt und fast durchsichtig. Ein Körper, unreifen, aber eifrig für das Leben. Ihr Gesicht war zart, klein, rund, leuchtend blau mit Reflexionen. Haar
glatt und klar fiel auf ihre Schultern. Ein Strang der silbernen Faden zwischen ihre Schenkel stach stolz darauf, dass begrüßte die Augen.
Sie sah den Riesen mit einem natürlichen Interesse, und nahm ihn auf ... und sah, wie sein Bild Domenico.
Sie bewegte sich nicht die Augen, sondern sah ihn. Domenico fühlte sich sciogliesi alle wird. Das endlose Meer, und es schien klar, es wurde Einwickeln jeden Gedanken.
Er versuchte, sich als Teil seiner selbst zu rebellieren, verwundet, rief dagegen.
Das Herz schien in seiner Brust und Hände krallten den Sand geplatzt. Mit einer schmerzhaften Schuss aus den Augen und war sofort von den Blicken der ihn gefangen
Augen aus Feuer, und schaute weg gerichtet. Dann wurde er Hass. Nun hatte er zu ihm drehte. Seine haarigen Oberschenkel eingerahmt einen stechenden Schmerz und übertrieben. Schwarz
in schwarz. Die Füße waren klein, fast verstopft, und sah einen Hauch von einem Schwanz. Selbst der Riese war ungefähr zu schießen, wenn man seine behaarten Handgelenk nahm und hielt ihn fest.
Domenico fand sich fest und starrte sie beide und Zittern, schließlich hörte sich seine Angst. Er sprang ohne zu sehen und lief auf die Straße, ohne zu denken noch mehr. Einer überwand
sprangen die Banken einsam und dunkel. Er sah die Felder, auf denen das Getreide vertrocknet ist, fühlte er sich erschrocken Quietschen von Kanalratten gestört. Er lief und lief, bis er sich selbst gefunden
in der Nähe des House of Lords Matiol. Dann setzte er sich hinter einem Haufen Heu, und ließ sich ohne Scham weinen.
Der Mond über tröstete ihn, aber es war nutzlos.
Domenico hatte seine Hose nass, und jetzt trug in sich den Traum aller Träume. Er konnte nicht nach Hause gehen wie diese. Nein, er hatte sie gesehen, und ihr Bild wurde auf seine verschmolzen
cuore.Menico hatte ihn, und niemand gesehen, aber ihm wäre noch schrecklicher gewesen.
 Er entschloss sich, mit dem Mond bleiben, zumindest für diese Nacht.


***


Bluette umklammerte ihn Bronza. Er hat bereits heftig umklammert den Hals der Menschen im Traum. Die alte Wut und Verzweiflung ohne Ende wurde bereits das Vergnügen, das Löschen
sie ihm gegeben hatte. Aber würde nicht zulassen, Bluette Bronza wütend, zu zerstören, was kommen würde. Zog ihn mit seiner starken Hand und führte sie in ihr stolzes Mitglied.
Das drückte und drückte ihn wieder mit Begeisterung und Wärme.
Bronzen spürte das Feuer und Verderben, aber die Hitze und Feuchtigkeit tief Bluette gelöscht und verwendet, um die Spannung zu verdünnen. Er sank auf den Grund, sie wiederzusehen. Er erlaubt
um seine Nieren zu säen noch Leben. Seine.
Es dauerte noch ihm selbst Bluette. Wieder und wieder ... Er lebte auf seinem Schwung und genoss ihre getan.
Dann langsam die Anspannung verschwand in wenigen Augenblicken. Irgendwelche Gedanken nachgelassen, und Bronza sank im Bett verlässt neben dir Er träumte mit halb geschlossenen Augen und der abwesende
Genuss nichts. Jetzt, fast glücklich und zufrieden, lassen Sie den Faden hinter dem Fokus der Wut und Erinnerungen bleiben. Verschenkte die Gedanken der Rache und Blut-und
schlief ein.
Aber sie verschränkte die Arme über ihren Brüsten nackt vorzustellen, ein kalter Schauer. Der Mann hatte sie und Bronza gesehen. Das überraschte sie. Sein ganzes Leben hatte er nie nass Nymphe
darauf hingewiesen, dass die Menschen könnten die Menschen des Lebens zu sehen.
Diese arroganten Affen waren blind für die große Welt.
Aber der Mann war ein kleiner Junge, und sie hatte seine Aufmerksamkeit erregt. Dennoch hatte das Vergnügen, die Hingabe an Bronza. Aber der Nervenkitzel des Gewinnens schlank
Mensch war süß wie Honig. Und der Honig im Herbst vorbei war. Oder nicht?


***


Domenico nicht nach Hause in dieser Nacht kommen. Er schlief in der Scheune neben dem kleinen Brunnen. Dann zeigte sie ihm beschäftigt, im Garten des Hauses. Als wir waren früh. Seine Mutter
fragte ihn etwas, aber dann dachte nicht mehr und ließ ihn allein.
Stattdessen Domenico nicht mehr sah Dinge. Wie spät war es? Wohin reisen? Aber jetzt, was war da zu tun? Und die gehobelte Seiten von euch waren dort vor ihm und bat darum, sein
gestreichelt. Die Haut eines jungen Mädchens, helle blaue und hatte keine feste Form, aber er nahm eine ihrer Begierde. Ihre Augen waren eine Scheibe des Unendlichen, und bat ihn zu kommen, um anzubeten. Sein Mund war ein kleines Mädchen, um die Frucht zu genießen ...
Der Bauch Domenico war eine Spannung, die er wollte. Das Geschlecht von Domenico beansprucht. Und der Tag wusste nichts. Er war allein. Aber heute Abend würde er wieder da sein. Natürlich können Sie tun!
Sie wollte, dass das Leben.
September abends hier an der Piave Ciano, sind lang und warm und riecht nach Sommer noch in der Luft noch zum Verweilen ein. Aber ein vages Gefühl des Unbehagens, versteckt
unter der Kruste der Dinge, die Sie sehen, macht unruhig Herzen. Besonders diejenigen, die sich zu treffen und will, muss sich beeilen, berühren und genießen Sie dort zu sein. So
Domenico kam fast laufen in den Wald von Morer, aber dann, als sie noch ein paar Schritte versteckt und lauschte. Nichts und niemand anwesend war. Distant Echo betonte
Schweigen gleichgültig gegen seine Anspannung. Er ging in den Sand und Morer sagte nichts von den Erinnerungen, dass er im Inneren hatte.
Er setzte sich auf den Stamm gelehnt und ließ sich langsam von der Dunkelheit umhüllt sein. Die als Teil des Selbst akzeptiert und Gedanken gelegt.
Bluette hörte ihn, als er noch auf der Seite des Waldes versteckt. Stockwerk näherte durch das Studium seiner Aufmerksamkeit. Doch er hatte es nicht gesehen, aber es schien sich seiner sicher: er
verbarg auch sein Wunsch. Er wollte: ein Mensch!
Er ging ein wenig und ging vorsichtig dunklen Schatten einer Akazie, rechts über die Lichtung.
Und Domenico träumt mit offenen Augen sie nicht sehen konnte, bis ein Funke zündete die versteckten Teil seines rechten Auges und drehte sich auf seinem Wunsch. Das Herz begann, und Sie
hörte auf zu atmen. Ihr Rücken versteift und seine Augen nur wüßte, wo sie suchen müssen. Er sah sie kommen aus der Dunkelheit, als ginge man auf einer Wolke. Sie leuchtete das Licht
eigenen und blickte zuversichtlich. Seine Arme waren fallende natürliche umrahmt von langen Haaren und kleinen Brüsten, aber Stolz zeigt. Der Bauch, seine Büschel eingeladen
Leben und ihre langen Beine kaum bewegt, langsam und sicher. Er wurde von qurgli Augen eingefangen. Sie wurden in einem See zu ertrinken.
Als sie am nächsten war, schien er in das Licht eingehüllt, dass die Welt und aller Zeiten gab es nicht mehr geben.
Worte waren nicht nötig, und er hat mich nicht erinnern, jemals zu berühren. Aber als er kam in sie war wie wenn man in das große Meer des Lebens für nichtig erklärt wurden und hat seine Identität verloren
Träumen, Genießen seiner Umarmung. Er hatte versucht, den Himmel und wollte nichts mehr.
Er fühlte seinen Formen und streichelte ihr Samt und jeder Schlag war die süßeste. Die Freude an der Existenz und das Leben war eine Realität. Die feuchte, in denen er sich bewegte war die Einladung zu
ewiger Wonne ohne Ende ...
Dann die Augen beobachtete ihn in, lassen Sie ihn mit den Farben und dem Unendlichen zu spielen. Er wußte, wann er endete.
Als nach und nach brachte ihn zurück den Rest der Welt. Durchwatet mit ihr in der Nähe von ihm, er fühlte keine Schmerzen Ablösung. Sie wollte nicht zulassen, dass sein Herz zu leiden und blieb
schließen, bis ihn der Schlaf übermannte.


° ° °
Bluette zog langsam weg von der menschlichen. Leicht wie ein Blatt erlaubte es ihm, im Traum, und entführt gab ihm Freude zu bleiben. Sie hatte sein Herz erobert und er sich nun
war sein für immer. Jetzt, wo Affen Mann hatte die unendliche erlebt, und seine Augen wanderten über den Nebel überhaupt.
Sie fühlte sich in ihm die Kraft, die er ihr geschenkt hatte, mit seinem Wunsch. Es schmeckte anders, als Bronza gab ihr: dass sie nicht wusste, Domenico von Arroganz. Es war ganz ähnlich wie bei Kindern, die keine Grenzen zu haben, und wagen Sie das Spiel, aber sie wollen auch beruhigt werden.
Also dank der Bindung sie geschaffen hatte, hielt er sich in diesem neuen Geschmack. Eine neue Farbe gefüllt und in ihr Bluette wusste, dass er gewonnen hatte.
Dann die kalte Nachtluft Domenico erwachte, überrascht feststellen, dass es sich lustlos gekleidet. Er sah den Mond, und die Finsternis um ihn herum war wie eine samtene Decke. Sie war verschwunden. Aber es war, als wäre er noch mit ihm. Das Innere fühlte mich wie ein Ding erobert. Er machte sie zu seiner.
Ein Teil von ihm wollte sie berühren, und sogar mir in die Augen schauen, aber wusste, dass nicht kommen würde. Er berührte den Himmel und die Dinge würden nie mehr dieselbe sein.
Domenico ging traurig in Richtung Cyan. Jetzt sind die Augen sehen konnte, die Schatten der Bäume fast lebendig, und weg bemerkte er seltsame Reflexionen über Montello Stechen über dem Wald. Er fühlte die
Eule, sie rief, und zum ersten Mal spürte er keine Beschwerden, und zwar wollte zum Gruß zu antworten. Das war genug, um ihm ein wenig Wärme.
Domenico spürte die Welt um ihn herum gehen, und dieses Gefühl erfüllte ihn und tröstete ihn ...
Domenico war nicht mehr allein.


° ° ° °


Einige Jahre später, im September einen Nachmittag war Fenola unruhig. Es war immer, wenn sie in seine Herberge und Gian Domenico kam. Die beiden sahen aus wie sie zustimmen könnte. Und sie waren immer in den unmöglichsten Zeiten. Welcher Tag ist heute? Bereits heute und morgen ist Freitag beginnen die Touristen kommen von Treviso und Venedig. Sie sind diejenigen, die das Gasthaus füllen jedes Wochenende. Wenn Fenola musste auf die Bewohner von Cyan oder Covolo verlassen, würde er schon geschlossen haben, die Taverne.
Er sieht in der Ferne, dass die beiden sich gegenseitig zu grüßen: Domenico zurück zu Cyan und Gian löst sich das Grab, um Covolo. Schon gibt Domenico Unter Fenola und einem alten Rost ...
Fenola an diese Zeit erinnern, als sein Vater, ein Jahr bevor er starb, die die Kneipe verließ, zum Erbe, das er große Baum des Brombeeren für seine Holz schneiden wollte. Er rief zwei seiner Freunde, ihm zu helfen.
Sie schneiden den Stamm mit großer Mühe und Schweiß, aber das Holz lange dauerte. Denken Sie daran, dass, wenn Domenico davon hörte, lief das Gasthaus schreien, sie hätten etwas getan werden
widerlich. Es war das erste Mal sah ich Domenico wütend, mit rotem Gesicht. Es schien verrückt, und dann fing er an zu weinen wie ein Baby! Bevor seine Mutter und dann auch
präsentieren getröstet hatte, bot ihm einen Hauch von Rotwein und ein Sandwich mit Sardellen. Dann Domenico beruhigt und nicht mehr gesagt wurde. Domenico war nie verheiratet und lebte allein
an den Ufern, aber wenigstens einmal in der Woche war das Gasthaus. Aber für den Geschmack der Fenola war zu benommen. Nun aber war es, das Gasthaus auf das Ende vorbereiten
Woche ...
Schon. Ich weiß, dass ich Zeit damit verbringen, um beim Einstieg in die alten Geschichten nennen. Aber ich beeile mich hinzuzufügen, dass sicher jemand gesehen hat. Niemand will zu sprechen und zu schämen. Aber ich
spielt keine Rolle. Ich möchte dies mindestens einmal hier sagen, dass niemand mich kennt, und obwohl ich, verrückt zu sein nehmen sich einen Dreck.
Es ist gesagt, dass ein dunkler Schatten schießt gelegentlich, wo es war einmal ein großer Baum der Brombeeren.
Der Schatten ist schwarz und groß ist, scheint auch Hörner und einen Schwanz haben. Hat jemand gesehen, die Augen von diesem Monster sind rot und voller Wut und Zorn.
Wer hat den Teufel an jenem Ort kamen wir wieder gesehen.


© 2012 Gian Berra
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