Skating in Nairobi

Consider the skates, do you recall them?
Come on, like the Rollerblade's. You remember them, now?
I’m not talking about the modern ones, with all the optionals, you know?
I mean old ones, shoes and wheels and let’s go.
Which were fashionable in the nineties.
You weren’t born yet? Okay, listen anyway.
You were? Then you remember, right?
Did you have them? No?
In any case, think how many of them ended up in the trash.
Like Toy Story's toys, whose life seems to end because the lucky child to have them got tired of them.
It “seems” to end, this verb is the meaning of everything.
Of the movie, and within this story.
Because what almost thirty years ago became a used object to get rid of, today in Kenya means fun and staying together...

Running away from the sorrows and difficulties of living...

And being happy with the little things that the real minorities of the world have forgotten...

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The dead’s count

It's a war.
It's all a war, when there have been or still is a war around.
It’s a conflict between ally and not ally.
It’s also a feud between those who enter the field to fight even the idea of joining a war.

It’s a bitter, invisible battle among those who aspire to the succulent role of selling weapons to the most needy government and those who demand the chance to facilitate such an unjust negotiation.
It’s a bloody clash between those who face the war on the field and who decides the strategies from the famous red button room.
It’s also a war of numbers.
Of parliamentary votes that will hopefully authorize the horrible show and peace protesters, to be minimized by cutting and manipulating the public information.
It's a war, after all.
It's all a war, before and after.
From Iraq to Yemen, from Darfur to the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
Well, now it’s also a war between NGOs and the UN for the count of the dead...


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Becoming males for dad

Once upon a time there were women.
But you may read daughters as well.
Courageously and affectionately sisters, if this was not enough.
Jyoti, 18 years old, and Neha, 16, did not hesitate, in Uttar Pradesh, India.
Dad is sick, he cannot go to work and get food to put on the table, that was the bitter sentence.
The two girls looked at each other, as if divided by a mirror colored with imagination that tastes revolutionary and daring as only when it is a feminine craft.
Come on, let’s go on stage, then.

They have shortened their respective hair, depriving the face of the usual hair, almost mandatory inside their current society.
Then, they opened little trunk of the costumes available and rummaging among them they have decided to change their identity for the sake of love.
So, they became boys for four years, going every day to cut beards and mustaches to the men of the village.
Now India’s government has given them an honor.
And, I hope, they lived happily ever after.

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The fake pictures of Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez

There is a world out there that cannot help but lie.
Once upon a time, as in fairy tales.
And there is still now.
You want to know the truth?
There will still be tomorrow and the day after.
People who have to lie to others will ever be around.
Who have a damned need for someone to believe their lies.
To go and see their childish bluffs, who follow them behind the unfortunate alley where they hide, to join their delirium.
They need you to click their stinking link, sharing their rotten post, making the latter strong with a like on their disgusting vision of things.
The targets are always the same.
As a rule, the poor of the world to be exploited, manipulated and sacrificed for their own personal gain.
But also those who are possible threats to reject hate and poison at the bottom of their soul.

It is the case, a woman who can perhaps scare the masculine and racist power in the US even more than Obama could have done.
So, do not be surprised by the false photos on Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, and the anything but compromising video a few days ago.
It will happen again.
What matters is how much, those who have the tools and the time to understand the truth will fight for it.

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We are water

Once upon a time there was a fire aimed at erasing possibilities.
To stop the change.
To defeat new horizons and better prospects.
Once upon a time, in fact, the flames that destroyed most of the deposit of an electoral commission in Kinshasa, in the Democratic Republic of Congo.
An attack led by the dull hatred fueled by blind anger and uncontrollable fear before the historic presidential elections able to allow the first democratic transition of the country's government.
Well, the people who do not give up have a name and are ideally suited.
Water.
We are water...

Supporters of the opposition party show a bullet used against protesters

Before the coward who opposes common rights and freedoms.
In front of the unfair defenders of privileges reserved for the few.
In the presence of terrified dictators.
We switch off fires and flood the world with future...

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Portraits of humanity

A single picture, often, says more than a whole, heartfelt speech.
And, if the images are particularly suggestive, the words can not help but be limited to the respectful, didactic role.

Portraits of humanity...

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Photos from Portrait of Humanity photography prize entries

Violence at school and on the news

Once upon a time violent schools.
Like the teacher arrested in Milan, Italy, caught on videos shot without his knowledge making at least 42 brutal acts against the children entrusted to him.
Once upon a time who recognize the seriousness of the fact, but… we should not generalize.
Yes, no public trials, period, unless that is a courtroom.
It's right, it is.
Despite, according to the Italian National Adolescent Observatory, thanks to a survey concentrated on the 2016/2017 school year on a national sample of 8,000 teenagers aged 14 to 19, 20% of them said they had been mistreated, denigrated or even insulted by a teacher during their entire stay at school.
Because compared to 2 out of 10, there are 8 who are in the hands of people who every day carry out their fundamental work with commitment and dedication.
Otherwise, someone might feel entitled to state that all teachers are violent.
Someone else could support such a lie by manipulating real data, daily bombarding the press, social media and talk shows for the sole purpose of using teachers to specifically create a virtual enemy and generate unfounded fears in students and parents.
Well, I think is now evident where this story wants to go.
Once upon a time the immigrants...

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Stories to think: the price of war

I try to give words to pictures*, to return the gift from who share news with passion and history with commitment.

The price of war

The price of war is the coveted silence that becomes paradise between one hell and another...

The price of war is the illusion of a home that becomes a family where means nothing for the rest of the world...

The price of war is to find yourself on the journey remaining motionless as much as before those who would like to see you leave against your will...

The price of war is to remain alone, on that journey, but with the courage to take the rudder remained vacant...

The price of war is to face the devilries of madmen who play with your life from above and continue to not understand their meaning...

The price of war is to live the rest of your days waiting for those who will not come back...

The price of peace, on the other hand, is to ensure that such hopes are not always in vain...

*Photos by Lynsey Addario

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Talking to an intolerant Troll

Once upon a time an intolerant Troll.
Which we could also call inTrollerant, or in-Troll-errant, because they used to go around, they live, like John Carpenter’s movie, they are among us, but they make noise only in a crowd or anonymously.
So, I fly high and start saying that the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (in short UNCTAD)...
Who give a F. of the United Nations? Stop with this globalism, cut the funds!
...the financial crisis has caused the exponential increase of household debt in the poorest areas of the developing countries...
So, if you're poor, don't make the debts, right? Who is the cause of his problems... what’s the saying?
...and this made the inhabitants defenseless before Donald Trump’s war against all the states he considered as enemies...
Trump is doing good, he’s making America great again, back to your country!
...with a slowing down of general growth...
That’s fine, do you really want to grow up more? How many children you should have? You want to erase us, this is the truth!
In fact, since 2008, the aforementioned global debt has risen from 142 to 250 trillion (billions of billions) dollars, which is three times the total income of each nation.
Summarizing, the unquestionable numbers say that the crisis created by the scams of the big financial groups, with the complicity of corrupt politicians, has impoverished the world and made further enrich the opulent minority, sweeping away the middle class people. Then, what the latter do? Instead of using the vote and every other instrument of active citizenship, to face those who have stolen and continue to do so, they choose as a remedy for the damage suffered to attack those who are poorer than them…
…
Troll leaves the forum. 

From Storie and News

The seller

Once upon a time a seller.
You may call him a politician.
And you might think about him as your president.
You can see him as a leader.
And you could remember him as a ruler.
You may fear him as a dangerous man.
And you can imagine him as yet another rich guy.
Maybe you considered him a liar.
Or just a crazy human being on the top.
Perhaps you loved him.
Conceivably, you’re doing it right now.
Otherwise, you’re fighting his ideas.
His visions.
And all his intentions about our common future.
However, you will make no mistakes, believing he is just a seller.
Of illusions or death.
Weapons or nightmares.
Slavery or a tragic future.
His job is the same.
He is selling something and if you are with him.
You are not an elector or a supporter.
You're not his friend.
You’re just one who’s buying from him...

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The story of the border

Once upon a time there was a planet of shapes and colors.
Of existences and survivals.
Of perpetually traveling, only apparently motionless creatures, in a collective dance between departures and returns.
There were once also peoples in war, trapped in an ancient conflict like the world itself.
Among those who in every age, brick by brick, raise walls to divide, and those who, as the indignation and the conscience become stronger each other, they commit to throw them down.
So, since the dawn of time, the story goes on in its absurd game.
You build a wall, I knock it down, you withdraw it and I take it down again.
Up and down, down and up.
Until it is understood that there is only one way to put an end to this absurdity.
Deleting, once and for all, that crazy line which the first damned stone was placed one day on.
In short, the border…

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