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"The doctor and the sorcerer"





Ieri ho assistito alla proiezione del film "Il medico e lo stregone": una commedia italiana degli anni '50 molto piacevole e divertente, ma allo stesso tempo ricca di un messaggio educativo profondo ed ancora attuale.

Prima di parlare della discussione/riflessione derivata dalla visione del film cerco di spiegare brevemente la natura del progetto che ieri è stato presentato.
Si tratta della proiezione di una serie di otto films , a partire da gennaio prossimo, che devono ancora essere scelti, ma che will have as theme "Medicines".
Drugs can be designed as alternatives to traditional medicine, such as medicine or hospital and territorial, this is yet to be seen.
The meetings will be followed by discussion forums led by experts.
The project ends with a kind of laboratory, but honestly I did not understand what it will.
The information that I'm writing have been given by Prof. ssa Valanzano and other employees involved in the project during yesterday's meeting, the future will certainly change.
The project, which is emerging in other medical schools, ha come obiettivo quello di portare gli studenti, che stanno percorrendo la lunga strada della formazione, a riflettere sul lato umano del ruolo che ricopriranno in futuro attraverso la visione di un film, che è in grado di provocare reazioni emotive istantanee e pertanto può essere utile.
Si inserisce nel panorama, nella linea guida che la Prof. ssa Valanzano sta plasmando nella nostra facoltà: potenziare il carattere umano della comunicazione durante la formazione, attraverso progetti come il nostro tirocinio al primo anno, che anche se troppo lungo, aveva come finalità un aspetto degno di molto rilievo: il percepire, senza schemi di pensiero predefiniti, la vita e la communication in the department, looking at the human side of things, or watching the men, they are sick (even diseases that do not yet know), but also the rest of the staff is around the hospital.

The film should lead to this type of reflection, at least as I understand it, moving away slightly from the usual books.
It 's a bit like the people to see the play to denounce the politics of visual media are very straightforward.

Anyway, back to the movie, in two words tells the story of a young doctor (Mastroianni) who is sent to pursue his profession in a mountain village in which no medicine had arrived, and with her progress. In the village people were "cured" by Don Antonio (De Sica), a wizard that exploiting the ignorance and trust that the people had towards him, "fix" health problems and more.
The doctor does not receive immediately from the openness and respect for people who had hoped for.
The people rejected his care simply because the doctor had not made contact, as he had done the wizard.
It will take time because the doctor purchases the trust of people and this will be to his human, that will force him even to reach a compromise.
between quackery and medical science, certainly won the second, but, although it is difficult to admit, she has something to learn from first: its first comprehensive el 'empathy (so the quackery is represented in the film).

Your doctor can help heal and then only if the patient has confidence in him and created a human relationship with him. How
came out of the discussion, the discussion may seem limited to only a general practitioner, who is the first point of health of the citizen, but it is not true, it can also be extended medical team and not on the ward : communication among the staff to himself and the patient is the basis for creating an environment more conducive to treatment.

In this reflection seems to have been left by the side of knowledge in the strict sense. I have not stressed because it is considered essential unanimously. Knowledge is
conditio sine qua non , but in medicine it is essential not to lose sight of the person with his experience and values \u200b\u200bthat are not only respected but also understood and accepted. Got

always positive psychology and the placebo effect: the trust is already so much on their own.

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On April 6, 2009 near L'Aquila, in Abruzzo, there has been a fairly strong earthquake.
At four in the morning my wife and I have received a telephone call in-laws, L'Aquila, which warns us "not to worry," that "were all good," that there was a strong shock, but the damage to Fortunately they were not significant.

One receives a phone call at four in the night, was heard to say "no worries" and, of course, immediately began to worry. It is good!

But let's step back.

L'Aquila is a (pleasant?) Cities of Italy. And 'city Art is a university city, is home to an important school of the Guardia di Finanza and is also the capital of the region of Abruzzo. Quell'Abruzzo that when I was a child still at school called "Abruzzi e Molise" even though they had already separated the two regions for some time.
As the Abruzzo region was little known to most people, so L'Aquila city was not well known. I've known for a boy with my parents spent a month's vacation in the mountains of Abruzzo. It was then that I saw in person the famous fountain of 99 spouts that was always shown every time there was talk of L'Aquila on any text, school or not. So I, as a boy, I knew more or less exactly where is the Eagle. The rest of my friends and acquaintances do not. For them, L'Aquila was an abstract concept, a city (probably) who was in some undefined place in the area bounded by Lazio, Marche, Campania and Puglia. The Abruzzo region as usual was not recalled. The eagle was often identified as a city "near Rome" or "near Naples." Aquila's speech (which, in time, I learned) was regularly mistaken for Roman, or more frequently, Naples. A L'Aquila

I found a wife. Or rather, before I found (elsewhere) and then I discovered that it was de L'Aquila. From our first met I started learning more about the city and its surroundings, its inhabitants from the very special character, the tastes, traditions and concerns of the younger generation. And despite all my knowledge of L'Aquila was still very early.
few years later we married and I have thus acquired a new family Abruzzo, huge for my standards and not so large for them. Weddings in Abruzzo. For me it was the size of an international convention, but for them it was perhaps a little 'resigned.

Then came the earthquake.

now everyone has heard of L'Aquila. I do not know how many have actually learned where it is, but at least you no longer feel say "huh?" When you say that your wife is L'Aquila. Now I respond "really?" And with eyes wide. L'Aquila now exists in the collective, although there is much less than before in the concreteness of facts.

For a few weeks after the "strong blow" to the earthquake, in L'Aquila, there was a veritable procession of politicians, religious artists. The televisions have made special investigations.
Then the noise has been reduced.
After exactly one month after the earthquake, only Bruno Vespa urged to bring guests on this painful topic to try to unpick them more money for reconstruction.
Now if anyone wants to know something about the earthquake, the only source of information is the network. The television and newspapers are too busy to talk about the girlfriends of the premier and the upcoming elections.

Be ', my dear (four) readers, the scoop is this:
THE EARTHQUAKE IS' FINISHED YET!
Although not talk about it anymore, the situation is far from resolved!

There is an entire city, plus a large number of villages in the surrounding is completely displaced.
Even if you are fit for use can not come home yet, partly because the orders come out a little 'time and a number unique to each property (still very few compared to the total number) partly because the aftershocks continue and people have a fifa blue! He is afraid to return home and contend falling apart because the swarm has not yet stopped and many people expect to do so only after giving another "strong blow", as seems to have already happened in the past (if you're curious, take a trip on Wikipedia http://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/L% 27Aquila and read the section "The earthquakes in the history of ' Aquila ").

There are sixty thousand people accommodated in tent camps and hotels on the Adriatic coast. Some have sought alternative accommodation, renting a house or going elsewhere in other cities as guests of friends and relatives. All the old town of L'Aquila is the "red zone" is reached only escorted by the police or fire departments. All businesses, offices, schools, everything that was inside the city center there now. At best, remains "suspended" until the center is made safe and that we can enter freely again, but it is obvious that for shops and catering this is a lethal blow.
currently lack the stable, which are damaged, mancano i lavoratori, che sono sfollati, e mancano anche i clienti, che sono sfollati anch'essi. L'Aquila è una città svuotata. Tipo le "ghost town" dei film western, ma molto più bella e ricca e tristemente desolata.

Per assorbire il colpo, rimettersi in piedi e ricominciare a vivere normalmente a L'Aquila serviranno molti anni. Per ora non abbiamo neanche iniziato. Per ora si è pensato a dare una sistemazione di sopravvivenza per tutti, e non è poco, anzi, è moltissimo per chi si è ritrovato dalla sera alla mattina senza casa, senza lavoro, a volte anche senza alcune loved ones. But it's nothing, I repeat, NOTHING to restart.

The government has prepared a decree. Someone called the decree "abracadabra". I tried to read it and I was very, very, puzzled. This decree is now passing through Parliament for its approval. During this process were presented the amendments. To keep the wire I'd need a Parliamentary good, honest, diligent and practical laws. Practically impossible to achieve. From L'Aquila
an initiative was launched. It's called "One hundred%. It 's a petition addressed to parliament to ask, the occasion of the discussion of this decree, which is guaranteed a total reconstruction, with full transparency and full participation of local people.

If you want, you can also join online at: http://www.100x100aq.org/
A quick paste the signature form in this blog.
you can do it, if you think it's worth it.

's just a gesture, to begin with. Then you will need to do much more.

In closing: Tuesday, May 30, there will be a demonstration in L'Aquila to request the reopening of the city center. The
G8 is around the corner, the police are under pressure for some time, the displaced people now live for two months in extreme conditions.
I hope with all my heart that this event be successful, it is a peaceful path of vindication and affirmation, and should not enter in the news for reasons far more sad. I am very nervous about this. We hope that nothing bad happens.

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Although still I have difficulty understanding


now visit daily blogoclasse, watering my flowers, I sometimes raises questions and issues to think about who may start to my usual stream of cosciousness.
Tonight it is.
Sensations had at times and in different places they took me with more force than usual, wondering why it is so difficult to realize the desired.
case, I would answer, but not all.
Luckily, otherwise I should shoot me.

"I'm not always want to determine the fate and mission of a man: there may be something else, predestined" . Hermann Hesse

Taking a cue from the post of Irene ( Irros'blog ) on the fifteenth anniversary of the founding of Emergency transcribe an excerpt from "Green Parrots" by Gino road, which I hope you've read: I can only think about it con una forte ammirazione unita a un senso di infinita piccolezza.
E'un medico anche lui, come, forse, lo saremo in tanti, ma certamente un po'diverso da molti di quelli che girano nei nostri ospedali con il camice bianco immacolato.
Avremo noi almeno un pizzico della sua forza per CREARE e per CREDERCI ?

La lettura del suddetto libro/insieme di ricordi mette di fronte a una realtà inumana.
Nel mio piccolo penso: mi alzo e vado.
Ma quanta forza ci vuole a estendere quella coscia.


"Un vecchio afgano con i sandali rotti e infangati, e il turbante con la coda che scendeva fino alla cintura, stava accanto al figlio di sei anni nel pronto soccorso dell’ospedale di Quetta.

Il bambino si chiamava Khalil e aveva il volto e le mani, o quel che ne restava, coperti da abbondanti fasciature.
Stava sdraiato, immobile, la camicia annerita dall’esplosione.
Qualcuno aveva strappato una manica e ne aveva fatto un laccio, legato stretto sul braccio destro per fermare l’emorragia.

“È stato ferito da una mina giocattolo, quelle che i russi tirano sui nostri villaggi” disse Mubarak, l’infermiere che faceva anche da interprete, avvicinandosi con un catino di acqua e una spugna.

Non ci credo, è solo propaganda, ho pensato, osservando Mubarak che tagliava i vestiti e iniziava a lavare il torace del bambino, sfregando energicamente come se stesse strigliando un cavallo.
Non si è neanche mosso, il bambino, non un lamento.

In sala operatoria ho tolto le bende: la mano destra non c’era più, sostituita da un’orrenda poltiglia simile a un cavolfiore bruciacchiato, tre dita della sinistra completamente spappolate.
Avrà preso in mano una granata, mi sono detto.

Sarebbero passati solo tre giorni, prima di ricevere in ospedale un caso analogo, ancora un bambino. All’uscita dalla sala operatoria Mubarak mi mostra un frammento di plastica verde dark, scorched by the explosion.
"Look, this toy is a piece of mine, 's were collected on the site of the explosion. Our old people call them green parrots ... "and begins to draw the shape of the mine, ten inches in all, two wings with a small cylinder at the center. It looks like a butterfly than a parrot, now I can put like a puzzle piece of plastic in my hand, is the wing tip.
"... They are down to thousands, launched from helicopters at low altitude.
Ask Abdullah, the driver of the hospital, one of the children of his brother he has a collection last year, lost two fingers and was blinded. "

Mine toy, designed to maim children.
I had to believe, but still I have difficulty understanding ...

Three years later I was in Peru.
When I went to Ayacucho, after months to organize the department of surgery, a Peruvian friend, artist and poet, gave me a retablo, a kind of plaster crib.
A scene of violence and struggle for land rights.

Around figurines of peasants chained, dragged away by soldiers in balaclavas, many ears of corn, very high, gilded.

flocks of loros Above the ears, green parrots with a hooked beak and eyes of prey.
"For the farmers here - Nestor said, explaining the altarpiece - the parrots symbolize the violence of the military, have the same color of their uniforms.
arrive, take the harvest, often kill, and they go away. "

Nestor told me about the miserable life of the people of the Andean region, the suffering and resignation, and the systematic violence.
Then I told him of any green parrots, which had met in Afghanistan.

Russian-made anti-personnel Mine (reverse engineering of an object widely dispersed U.S. in Vietnam in the early '70s), Model PFM-1.
I explained to him that the shed on the villages, as if they were flyers inviting you to not miss the spectacle of the circus Sunday.

And I saw her eyes in disbelief, as they were mine, and her lips slightly open in surprise.

The shape of the mine, with two wings, is to twirl it better. In other words, do not fall to peak when they are released from helicopters, they behave just like the leaflets, are scattered here and there over a territory more wide.
are made so for purely technical reasons - say the military - is not correct to call mine toy.

But it never happened to me, including the unfortunate injured by these mines that I happened to work, to find an adult.
Not one in over ten years, all strictly children.

The mine does not explode right away, often not active if stepped on. It takes a little 'time - it works, as they say the manual, following the accumulation of pressure.
must take it, handle it again, pull the wings. Who picks it up in short, can take it home, show it to friends in the courtyard of curiosity, that if passed from hand to hand, we play.

then explode.

And somebody else will go the way of Khalil.


traumatic amputation of one or both hands, a searing blaze across the chest and, very often, blindness.

unbearable.


I have seen too often children who wake up after surgery and find themselves without a leg, or without an arm.
have moments of despair, then, incredibly, they recover.

But nothing is unbearable for them, like waking up in the dark.
The green parrots drag them in the dark forever.

these things I said to Nestor, sitting in his studio full of paintings and sculptures, figurines and plaster to paint.
talking about war and violence, repression and freedom, of human rights.
What drives the human mind to imagine, to plan violence?

As I spoke of the tragedies of his homeland, the massacre of peasants Huanta asking only that their children could go to school, I sensed in his words, mixed with an atavistic pessimism, anger stifled, the desire for rebellion.

But then, inevitably, his thoughts went back to green parrots, to those who descended from heaven in faraway Afghanistan.
Then Nestor shook his head, and anger gave way to sadness, one that fills the mind when there is the possibility to understand, when reason is gone and it's just madness.

So we thought - knowing that it was all terribly real - an efficient and creative engineer, sitting at his desk doing sketches, drawing the shape of the PFM-1.
And then a chemist, to decide the technical details of the mechanism explosive, and finally a general welcomed the project, and a politician who approves it, and workers in a workshop that produced by the thousand each day.

are no ghosts, unfortunately, human beings have a face like ours, we have a family like us, children.
And probably accompany them to school in the morning, take them by the hand while crossing the street, which should not be in danger, warn them not to get closer to strangers, not to accept candy from strangers ... or toys.

Then they go to the office, to resume their work diligently to make sure that the mine will operate safely, that other people are not aware of the trick, that collect in so many.
More mutilated children, preferably also blind, and the enemy will suffer, is terrified, condemned to feed those unhappy for the rest of the year.
More children maimed and blind, the enemy is defeated, punished, humiliated.

And all this happens in our country in the civilized world, including banks and skyscrapers. Also face the loros, green parrots that infest the Andes, they seem less fierce, one might say more human.

I have not heard about Mubarak, for seven years.
I met many Khalil around the world, the last is called Thassim.

is not Afghanistan, is a Kurdish boy of fifteen, is blind and without hands. I worked two weeks ago, a strange surgery which transforms the forearms and makes them like the claws of a crab, or chopsticks, so she can grab objects, eating alone, smoking a cigarette. The
we are teaching to adapt to the new shape of your body, your best use of what is left.

Thassim raised his mine, his bloody parrot green, near Mawat, a mountain village surrounded by forests of oak, made even more impressive the first snow of November.

I look at him as he tries, so far unsuccessfully, to bring a spoon to the mouth without spilling the soup.
is tired and a little frustrated, for now does not want to learn to do exercises. "

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6 ° Assignment: Reflect Copyright

the meaning of copyright I'd never thought of.
Or rather, I had never raised the problem.
E 'really embarrassing to get light years later during the discussions proposed by iamarf, but patience is now routine.
but I want to justify myself: I tried to broach the subject, but I could not get an idea and therefore not satisfactory I was going to write anything.
Now situation has not changed much, but maybe a little bit, yes.

I also had the illusion, during this period of silence, they have found the solution, the key to bring out something good.
Yeah, I thought I had a sort of "serendipity"!
Several days ago I laid eyes, really randomly, on a book placed on a shelf in the library of my native town (which is not ever attend, if not tragic in moments of complete lack of desire, driven by the desire to find the concentration lost, I hope that is transmitted by osmosis from the regulars of the ductus place) and it was a book that pictures speak of the topic. You can imagine

the gleam in my eyes at the sight: a revelation!
But alas, the surprise lasted only a few seconds, the book was about the advertising: the inspiration has touched me and preferred to go away, leaving me dazed, waiting for the next treat the case.

However, after reading the comic , I think if an idea is not widespread we will never know that the idea was there, and not good, on the other hand, the creator must have all the poor Rights of the case.

Wow: that revolutionary idea!
There was no one coming!
Amen, I'm sorry.

Iamarf says "The value of scientific work emerges only with the amount of testing and the consequences that build up over time ".
to finding the error is right to give the possibility to look for it.

" We have the problem of having to navigate through a number of items that add nothing if not a noise that confuses and wastes time " .
does not find reply.
But when I think of what I'm doing now, I do not know what to say: even as we write, without an admirable goal blocked and consequentially the system.
I think of beauty is: you increase the chaos and chaos in some ways absurd, you can float, as you said.

To return to nice comic this image "Fair use means-you can share like a butterfly, sting like a bee" It is true.

As I got to read the actual current and anarchy on the Internet will be regulated in a way: apply the laws now quote from Prof, if tomorrow should be more permissive.
However, permissive or not is impossible to control them, in my opinion.
That is not just for those few that do something good, that you should give value, is another matter.

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Arts I & Spray


I just had my hands a article in the Corriere della Sera on pepper spray, or to call with his real name, on the stinging spray.
I invite you to read it.
However, if you like, more or less the basic message is that the spray has increased the crime (the figures are reported), therefore should be more regulated its spread.
Lo spray viene considerato un'arma, in tutto e per tutto, bisognerebbe quindi avere una sorta di licenza o porto d'armi,rilasciato da un questore, per possederla.
Mi sembra un po'complesso come progetto: anche le persone che ne hanno un reale bisogno, per motivi di auto-difesa, avrebbero un' eccessiva difficoltà ad appropriarsene .

Mi sono "sentita"coinvolta nella problematica e per questo ho deciso di condividere la mia visione con voi.

Premetto: io giro sempre con lo spray in borsa e, per essere precisi, in situazioni di potenziale pericolo (secondo me), che possono essere il percorrere brevi tratti a piedi di notte in strade deserte o semplicemente il sedersi in un vagone senza quasi nessuno inside, I keep the spray in hand into the pocket of his coat. In

was reported a speech by Secretary of police officers: "I have strong doubts that a normal person is able to neutralize the criminal and, indeed, I believe that during the time necessary to search in a pocket or purse of the pack spray stinging the criminal may have good game to attack the victim. "

do not agree, or at least only partially, but not for this you have to justify a 'cessation of sales.
It is true that it is difficult to predict a possible attack, but in principle it is rare that this happens in the crowd, maybe it can happen, but more than rarely, and then, in theory, should not be so unprepared.

These words I have a confusion in po'messo because some time ago to the public, all were potential rapists-bad-immigrant and had to defend itself by whatever means. Now it seems that it points the finger at what, in my opinion, is the most legitimate , and perhaps the only instrument of self-defense that can actually be useful.
Here, we have not.

are indignant because the article did not provide an analysis of the other: but where is over-the-fake "compassion" in the sense of suffering together last month, and all the desire to "protect" the sun and maidens scared?
addition, there are only adverse event data which is implicated in the oggettino indicted while is carefully avoided the number of rapes have not occurred for readiness in the use of the spray.

I know, it's just an article.

I understand that the spray can be used as a weapon to attack and is therefore harmful, but there are many other things on the market, widely available, which may be equally harmful. Even a plastic bag or a knife for the steak can be weapons until proven otherwise we should not have to carry firearms to walk into a store of household.

The difference between the so-called "weapons" is simply this: the victim is in a condition that can have unpleasant, perhaps, the strength to press a button, but certainly not the one to respond to aggression by pointing the knife at attacker's throat, even if it includes, for example, a chopper would legalissimo.

The growth of crime is not directly proportional the sale of spray.

I feel safer with the spray in hand. Unfortunately
cases of life led me to be afraid of certain things, like violence against women.
I know, unfortunately, that in times when the body does not respond and have the strength to press a button in those instants would be to conquer Everest without oxygen tanks at any other time of life, but because remove the possibility of doing so?
harmful effects on the attacker, unless you are serious, sorry, I do not care.
Maybe you can not imagine, even remotely, the evidence that certain acts have on people's lives. If it were not complex
procure them would use anyone or n one hand and on the other, and do not seem right.
I think there is still a kind of placebo effect of being in possession of a spray: a way you feel less vulnerable.

I say that it is not for sale: murders, thefts, rapes and various forms of violence can be done in many other ways, by means easy to obtain and use, and for one assaulted, perhaps that is the only way out.

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Plum-cake with lemon


I regret having waited so long before publishing my simple sweet, but I must admit that I no longer made, but a failed experiment on a pigeon Easter, everyone seemed, except for a dove!

However, this is a plum-cake for more to be done very fast.
Good recipe!
Ingredients:

• 180 g of icing sugar, 2 eggs
• ;
• 100 g of yogurt, preferably white. (I've got to put berries, but there is not!)
• 180 g of flour;
• 1 / 2 packet of baking powder;
• grated rind of half a lemon;
• 50 g butter;
• a pinch of salt.

Procedure:

1. In a bowl put the eggs (I did a variation: I installed the clear, and I added them later. The result is more or less the same), add the powdered sugar and the lemon zest and install everything with a little la frusta; versare poco alla volta lo yogurt , aggiungere la farina setacciata insieme al lievito e a un pizzico di sale, il burro fuso in un tegamino e amalgamare gli ingredienti.
2. Foderare lo stampo, leggermente imburrato, con un foglio di carta vegetale (facoltativo); versare il composto nello stampo preparato, fino a 2/3 della sua capacità e far cuocere il plum- cake in forno preriscaldato a 180° per 50 minuti circa.
3. A cottura ultimata , sfornarlo e farlo raffreddare cospargendolo di zucchero a velo.

Buona colazione o merenda che sia!

Sample Thank You Note To Pastor

tribute to a man

La paura di scivere sul blog e di commentare i blogs dei miei compagni sta iniziando a venire meno. Per fortuna.
Però in questo momento, in cui ho deciso di scrivere due parole su Panagulis l'esuberanza va via, lasciando spazio alla paura di sempre.
Ho "conosciuto"questo personaggio durante la lettura di "Un uomo"della Fallaci, libro spendido e sincero, scritto con la sua solita, meravigliosa franchezza.

Dopo averlo letto, questa storia d'amore, ma più che altro di vite inusuali e vissute in pieno, per questo interessanti, mi è rimasta dentro e mi ha portato ad amare quest'uomo che aveva ispirato tanta profondità in Oriana.
Così si apre il libro, sull'immagine del funerale di Panagulis.

"Un ruggito di dolore e di rabbia si alzava sulla città, e rintronava relentless, obsessive, sweeping any sound, articulating the big lie. Zi, zi, zi! Live, live, live! A roar that had nothing human. In fact, did not get up by human beings, creatures with two arms and two legs and just a thought, rose from a monstrous beast and without thought, the crowd, the octopus lunch, encrusted fists, faces distorted mouths contracted, had invaded the square of the Orthodox Cathedral and then stretched its tentacles into surrounding streets clog, submersible pumps with the relentlessness of the lava in its flood devours all obstacles, with its deafening zi, zi, zi. Subtract it was an illusion. "

Yesterday the anniversary of death Alekos on 1 May of '76 and I went with two words to remember. He was a hero
uncomfortable, he knew too much.
I leave here a poem: My comments would be superfluous, is eloquent enough.

Explosion

you, tombs, walking insults
living the life of your own thoughts
killers
dummies

you who envied the beasts
that offend the idea of \u200b\u200bseeking refuge Created
let ignorance
Afraid to be your guide

you that you forgot the Past with the Present
you see that you have not blinked
interest in the future you breathe
solo per morire

Voi che solo per gli applausi avete le mani
e che domani applaudirete
con più forza di tutti come sempre
e come ieri, e come oggi

Sappiate allora voi
scuse viventi di ogni tirannia
che i tiranni li odio tanto
tanto quanto ho schifo di voi.

Isolamento.Giugno 1971.
Scritta per la prima volta con il sangue,
su un pezzo di carta lercia.