Omar Longo
House. Scale. Scooter. Down the street on the left. Traffic lights. Green. Via. The cars around AC. The red lights of red taillights anticipate the intersection. Aspects chewing smog that the flow afresh, forced, compacted in a sudden stillness that is congenial to him. The square houses glimpsed the beginning of the week with a fine dust of loops that cross their tracks spicy blankets, breakfast hasty, in a tangle of faces that do not hide in the folds of the pillow.
Everyone knows where they are going, where a few guards. Repetition, habit, the mo Noton flatten the senses. Day after day the city is experienced in a utilitarian, perhaps because only utilitarianism and practicality drive many people to pile into the concrete islands.
Living the city in a functional and routine kills the perception of the city itself: it is the childhood friend who never changes, is the old husband who can no longer impress or excite.
A static view that reveals the bakery as a place to buy bread, the school as a place to study, as the way forward Transitional space. Buildings, roads, parks as backgrounds of daily flow, stage inevitable.
But every city has its own daemon: an elusive spirit that winds lurks everywhere: in the streets, the corners of the streets, the entrance to a shop. Can not you see, but there and speaks, and conformism in times of fierce dictatorship, screaming so loud that people are able to do anything to silence him, a monster that has nested in the multifaceted history, a demon born citizen with developments in the town, aged eating causal relationships.
His lair is the utilitarian view the city.
know the city is to know where this street, the square that the particular office, given the place of worship. This allows us to get the best, move quickly to a clear view of the city structure: clear, but not true. If the truth is not clear but revealing ( aletheia ), nothing unfolds the essence of a city, if not the mere economic relations that govern. The demon is quiet and can not be seen even if the sun lying on the central square. But often it happens that a play of light it makes sense the presence, or through a skylight let you see: they are moments, which left the places of study, work, bars, looking tired and listless accidentally falls on a commemorative plaque on the facade of a building or which differs from the others. If curiosity strikes laziness, allowing close observation, the demon starts to stir, knows that it can be revealed. It moves with the hesitancy of an animal approached the man, but in the eyes suggests the understanding and future games.
Trieste shows his support for the demon emerged from the rocks of the Carso to dry, in a narrow strip of land that is too thin to be only Italian: a demon who lived through the frontier city of the free port of religious tolerance.
- What's your name? - Is often the first question in the introduction, but here, the second is definitely - Where are you? -. Here the patch of land that you have raised has a specific meaning. The space is cramped, ethnicities and beliefs are many. Coming from one place or another 4 km away is not the same.
My first article in Pot-Pourri is a programmatic article: the trace of a path to understanding, understanding and taming the demon of the city to discover its history, the history of its people.
Verde. Parties. The city runs fast. Red. You stop. Stop. Char. Red. You stop. Stop.
Everyone knows where they are going, where a few guards. Repetition, habit, the mo Noton flatten the senses. Day after day the city is experienced in a utilitarian, perhaps because only utilitarianism and practicality drive many people to pile into the concrete islands.
Living the city in a functional and routine kills the perception of the city itself: it is the childhood friend who never changes, is the old husband who can no longer impress or excite.
A static view that reveals the bakery as a place to buy bread, the school as a place to study, as the way forward Transitional space. Buildings, roads, parks as backgrounds of daily flow, stage inevitable.
But every city has its own daemon: an elusive spirit that winds lurks everywhere: in the streets, the corners of the streets, the entrance to a shop. Can not you see, but there and speaks, and conformism in times of fierce dictatorship, screaming so loud that people are able to do anything to silence him, a monster that has nested in the multifaceted history, a demon born citizen with developments in the town, aged eating causal relationships.
His lair is the utilitarian view the city.
know the city is to know where this street, the square that the particular office, given the place of worship. This allows us to get the best, move quickly to a clear view of the city structure: clear, but not true. If the truth is not clear but revealing ( aletheia ), nothing unfolds the essence of a city, if not the mere economic relations that govern. The demon is quiet and can not be seen even if the sun lying on the central square. But often it happens that a play of light it makes sense the presence, or through a skylight let you see: they are moments, which left the places of study, work, bars, looking tired and listless accidentally falls on a commemorative plaque on the facade of a building or which differs from the others. If curiosity strikes laziness, allowing close observation, the demon starts to stir, knows that it can be revealed. It moves with the hesitancy of an animal approached the man, but in the eyes suggests the understanding and future games.
Trieste shows his support for the demon emerged from the rocks of the Carso to dry, in a narrow strip of land that is too thin to be only Italian: a demon who lived through the frontier city of the free port of religious tolerance.
- What's your name? - Is often the first question in the introduction, but here, the second is definitely - Where are you? -. Here the patch of land that you have raised has a specific meaning. The space is cramped, ethnicities and beliefs are many. Coming from one place or another 4 km away is not the same.
My first article in Pot-Pourri is a programmatic article: the trace of a path to understanding, understanding and taming the demon of the city to discover its history, the history of its people.
Verde. Parties. The city runs fast. Red. You stop. Stop. Char. Red. You stop. Stop.
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