It seems only right to give my readers an explanation for this prolonged absence. This country scares me. I love him but hate to die. I'm leaving for good. I is not practically possible to live in a place where people do not like the land, the beauty of our people and the greatness of our history. We have become a bucket of dirt into which flows all the worst of ourselves and the rest of the world. We are the container of the scandal in the scandal, we are not able to be a real country and we can no longer communicate. We are too diverse and this diversity, we believe that once made it unique, is killing us and puts us in front of a terrible truth: we are not a true people. We can fight for our land, our cities, for our children but for a country that does not exist ... I do not know, do not think so personally. All this hurts me, I'm not saying this just to say, as if to touch me as if I slip on as if nothing had happened. No, everything hurts and many more. I think in the West, in the North but not in Italy that is increasingly lost, over, divided, destroyed inside, not so much by politics or economics, but also from its own culture, its own people from me. They are and will always be proud to be Italian but not in the historical sense of the word. Perhaps in the sense ultrastor or oltrestorico. I am proud to be European and to the West, I repeat it but the rest is crap.
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