Nothing happens. Silvia does not seem to notice. In return, the dancers' asses tobagonians pleasant tremors causing me to lower belly. I'm in a big parade, West Indian carnival parade, which runs from dawn in circles in some areas of Brooklyn. Half-naked men and women simulating sex acts. Wizards voodoo dance to reggae and drum'n'bass. Among them and cameras of the curious there are long strings of police. Joy is heavily controlled and kept below the level of intemperance.
A mass in celebration with the overabundance of males to females, abundance of males and females for the glut of guards for all.
To sum up, I am in a militarized party full of passive observers who hold cameras.
Yet the day began with an unexpected event. I wandered alone in a park at dawn. Silvia expected to start working. Out of nowhere appeared a man. Are found in front of me without having seen it coming. Cordially introduced himself. He said his name was Brian. He had a strange conversation on the immortality of the soul, then disappeared. His arrival was silent and unexpected as his departure. I had given away to answer the phone, I turned around and was gone. In its place was Silvia with the camera over your shoulder. With a smile and a nod of the head asked me to follow her. The first floats were started drumming.
Silvia and I we arrived in the United States for about a month. The goal is to provide a report on behalf of a travel magazine which seeks to promote a package holiday for two weeks: "A (s) step Caribbean"!
fortnight in the footsteps of the Caribbean carnivals throughout North America, departing from Montreal and follow
Ottawa, Toronto, Boston and finally the West Indian carnival in New York.
- decontextualizes If these photos, the people who will not be able to do who are fascinated .
Silvia speaks, smiles and takes photos not know how many hours. I try to enjoy myself without success. I have not said anything yet of the strange meeting this morning.
- I know! The parade is monotonous. But look what freaks! Just remove some policemen here and there, add some funny caption and you're done .
Silvia's words are a piece of truth. The same truth that lies behind the act of showing a condom on an unsuspecting child and tell him you need to treat foot blisters. He can not help but believe and be fascinated by such a prodigy.
decontextualise to appeal. Take a reality more or less consolidated, clean shades monotonous or unpleasant, and present it again in a far away place. No matter that the site is physically or conceptually, what matters is that the new reality is perceived as such.
This thought has roots in my head for two weeks. Before that I had never thought about the ethical side of my work. It all began in Bridgeport, Connecticut, the city that gave birth to the frisbee and now produces combat helicopters. I went to visit my cousin Oscar. I had never seen before. Emigrated in the early seventies with a good part of my mother's family. At the time I was not born yet. My father, twenty, welded industrial warehouses around Europe. My mother, just an adult, she was a young underpaid workers of textile industry in the province of Avellino. The curiosity for that branch of my family transplanted in America had led me to know this man middle-aged unemployed, divorced, despised. In short, definable only for deprivation. We were sitting at the counter of a sporting club for Italian Americans old drunks in the city center. We drank brandy in front of a poor-quality high-definition LCD.
- Dear Mario, is an illusion. America is all an illusion .
Oscar gave me these words suddenly after a good half hour of silence.
- I bought a new car the other day, I was convinced to pay twenty-five thousand U.S. dollars. When I removed the check was written twenty-nine thousand U.S. dollars, but the What idiot is that I keep thinking of having paid twenty-five thousand U.S. dollars.
An old bearded man from the profile I had pulled the remote from under his eyes and changed the channel.
- When I read in a newspaper that a company has paid its taxes in a social fund, it is natural I think it was u n'azione generosity. In fact I always thought this way. But enough! I have no more fuck!
screams and moans coming from the TV. It was a pornazzo. A slender woman with red hair was slightly bent forward with his face stuck in a window. With hand right hand rubbing her left breast that had pulled out of the tight corset and masturbated with his left. At his feet, a wiry man licking the mouth of the ass.
- Nonsense generosity! And tactics, a shitty tactic disguised as tax relief for social solidarity, and all this with the help of newspapers, which are beautiful advertising in exchange for funding .
The bartender we had paid two other brandies, kindly offered by the old pornofilo. Clink of glasses and down the gullet. Oscar shooting his breath that the methyl alcohol had taken and completed.
- America is over my friend. The lies will endure as long as you are well or you think you can feel good.
I said nothing, what could I say? I did and I'm part of that same shit that my cousin was trying to shake off. Creo expectations in exchange for free holidays, I hate mass tourism, but at the same time the food actually selling pre-packaged vacations, and money to invest.
descended from the stools of the bar, greeted the old man replied with a nod of the head and set off the exit. On the way back we opened not his mouth more. Oscar held my arm, why not see anything at night. For the last two years have from night blindness. When the sun sets and turn on the lights in front of him there is only darkness. If you want to see something you have to use a very peripheral visual field, turning all eyes on the one hand, in an effort to completely unnatural.
The doctors have said it is incurable, because its not a problem focus but vision. Not in the physical sense of the term, but mental. The problem is the process of interpretation of the image that reaches the retina, not the perception of the image. People suffering from this disease understand well the meaning of these words. By day, the vision is normal, the contours of objects well defined and clearly visible. At night everything seems to disappear, as hidden behind a gray veil.
Silvia have dispersed the crowd. Suddenly, someone grabs my hand with force and began to fight my way through the crowd. A feeling of security and prosperity around me. The same feeling you get lost finding the road. All the memories of childhood become clear and clean. In a second entrance is underground. I watch the man who dragged me. It's Brian. He takes my hands in his, kissed me, puts a note in my pocket and go away without saying anything.
I look down right beside me there is a child from familiar face. I pull out the card from his pocket and read it. A sudden feeling of vertigo makes me reeling, I feel faint. Dark.
On awakening, a new warmth envelops me. I want to talk, but I can only cry and scream. Around me there are so many people and so much blood. I too am covered in blood. Scissors I cut something that grows from the navel. Huge hands me clean and I bring the arms of a woman, pale and sweaty.
- Brian Welcome to this world, I'm your mother .
My memories begin to fade, try to retain them. I can only hear a chant, are the words I had read before closing his eyes
ORDER AND ARTIFICIAL EVEN UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU WANT AND ARTIFICIAL
THE CASE OF THE DEAD ARE LAYERS OF ROCKS
THE VOICES OF THE DEAD ARE BREATH OF WIND
THE BONES OF THE DEAD ARE firewood
THE LIVES OF LIVING ARE continuous rebirth
LOADED LANGUAGE OF STONE THE THOUGHT TO DO SO IN THE FALL ' Inexpressible
Contribution of view: the pages of the book Necronomicon pseudobiblium of Howard Philips Lovecraft
