evaluation of the effort, which dissect the thought, searching for a contact point, a new and fair compromise, Maletti points in common, and stagger, I feel that in some senses it's worth, the Efforts are now rewarded : all this has a name, call it with your name.
The certainty will kill me.
"How do I feel far away from them, from the top of this hill. It seems to me to belong to another species. They come from the offices, after their day's work, watching the houses and streets with an air of satisfied , they think it is their city, "a beautiful city bourgeois. "They are not afraid, they feel at home. They've never seen nothing but water coming out domesticated from the taps that the light that radiates from the lamps when you press the 'switch that trees mestizos , bastards, who are supported with stakes. They have the proof, a hundred times a day, that everything is done mechanically , that the world obeys laws fixed and immutable. The dead bodies all fall on deaf ears with the same speed, park is closed every day at sixteen in the winter, and at six in summer, lead melts at 335 degrees, the last tram leaves from City Hall to twenty-three and five. I am peaceful, a little 'melancholic, thinking Until tomorrow, that is simply to another today, the city does not have that one day it returns always the same every morning. This is a little the plumed Sunday. What idiots. Disgusts me to think I'm going to review their faces full of dull and safe. Legislate, write novels populist, get married, have the extreme stupidity of having children.
And meanwhile the vast uncultivated nature has run crept into their city, has run everywhere insinuated in their homes, their offices, in themselves. He does not move, it freezes in them, they will standard in full, breathing and do not see it, believe it is out, twenty miles from the city.
I see this nature, I see ... I know its submission is laziness, I know ch 'it has no laws: that they exchange for his consistency ... He has that habit, and can change tomorrow.
And if something happen? If you suddenly put to a beat? Then s' noticed by his presence and seems to feel his heart burst. What's serve, then, their dams, their banks, their power, their blast furnaces, their steam hammers? This could happen at any time, even now, the omens are there. For example, a father of family will be walking towards him, across the road, like a red rag pushed by the wind. And when the cloth will be very close which is a piece of rotten flesh, smeared with dust, which you drag strip, swings, a tortured piece of meat that you roll in the gutters projecting a jet of blood spasms. Or a mother looks at her baby's face and asks: "What cos' you have there, a scab?" And the meat will swell a little, fracturing, and hatch in the bottom of the scepolatura will get a third eye, a mocking eye. Or they will feel soft, gentle movements throughout the body, such as stroking the rushes of the rivers are swimmers. And realize that their garments have become living things. And another one will notice that something tickles him inside the bag. Come near to a mirror, opens his mouth and his tongue will become a huge centipede alive, shake paws scraping the palate. He'll want to spit, but a thousand feet will be a part of himself, and will strapparselo with your hands. It appears a lot of things that need to find new names, the eye of stone, the great arm alcoholic strength, the ' allucegruccia , the spider-jaw. And one who will asleep in his comfortable bed in his room sweet hot awakens naked sopra un suolo bluastro, in una foresta di verghe rumoreggianti , rosse e bianche, erette verso il cielo come le ciminiere di Jouxtebouville , con grossi coglioni a metà fuori di terra villosi, turgidi come cipolle. E intorno a quelle verghe svolazzeranno uccelli che le becchetteranno facendole sanguinare, e da queste ferite colerà lo sperma, pian piano, lentamente, sperma mescolato a sangue, vitreo e tiepido, con piccole bolle.
O anche, niente di tutto questo succederà. non vi sarà alcun cambiamento apprezabile ,ma, la gente, una mattina, aprendo le persiane , sarà sorpresa a kind of thick horrible pesantemete placed on things, and that seems to have the air of waiting. Null 'other than this: but not for long this lasts, there will be suicide by the hundreds.
Well, yes! That all changed a little, I ask no better. If other people see, then, suddenly plunged in solitude. Men completely alone, solissimi with horrible monstrosities, will run through the streets, heavily pass in front of me, staring, fleeing their ills and bringing with him , with their mouths open and their language-slam insect wings. Then I
creperie laughter, even if my body is covered with scabs suspected that sewage will bloom into flowers of flesh, in purple, buttercup. M'addosserò a wall, and cry as they passed: "What have you done with your science? What have you done your humanitarianism? Dov 'is going to end your dignity as a thinking reed?". I will not fear-or at least not more than at this time. Maybe this will not be still there? All those eyes that slowly eat a face will be too, no doubt, no more than the first two. E'dell'esistenza I'm afraid. "
Jean - Paul Sartre
