Shattered Christmas, 20 Years After.

This short story represents the sequel to last year’s Christmas tale, Shattered Christmas; I’d strongly encourage you to read it first. Opening. Searching my folder, trying to make sense of all this mess. Photos of Nicole: remnants of another blue Christmas. Oh, who cares about Nicole. You want to go, then go! No one was holding you back. I’m trashing the photos. Where am I headed? Two years. It’s been two years. Reminiscing about my old self. Look at me, staring at the yellow wall, the flash message blaring “Connection refused”. In a week I’ll be back in Italy, in ***, my hometown. To participate in the funeral ceremony for my father. Crazy…

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Good Friday

at the airport

Always a perceivably special day. Maybe the key to my living it as something special is contrast, for the very reason that we are surrounded by people who ignore it: to them it’s just a day like another. God is dead, no Eucharist is celebrated today. The church remains empty, after the triumph of flowers and candles that surrounded the Most Blessed Sacrament since Thursday. The Via Crucis rite had an attendance of 7, including the priest’s striped cat who sneaked in. Come on, I’m not that old, when I was a child I remember my village as a place where the principal religious holidays were a big community event.…

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What really matters (Section: God)

Destination God

How did we develop our vision about life? “This is what really matters!” is a phrase I used often jokingly, for instance during the traditional Christmas Night Risiko (board game) with friends, when I and Mario (truly a character, but not the Nintendo one) let the dice decide who will have the privilege to use the red plastic army… then who cares about winning, the important thing is – i say to myself- being the Red! My “over thirty” generation has a natural sense of humor, a perception of the disjunction, breaking traditional schemes: so the player fakes a disproportionate interest in trivial things, precisely because he can taste the…

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