“Un solo per non essere solo” – a solo, in order to be not alone.

We are plunged into a war without name or definition. We go through the so-called terroristic at- tacks as events of a war that we are not able to see as such. Still our everyday life is shaped by a silent alertness and circumspection, our peace-time is not peaceful at all, but nervous, hysterical, suspicious. What is war, is it what happens outside? in newspapers? in battlefields, in our houses, in ourselves? How many forms of war are there? Or are they rather the same thing? Is what happens outside that affects our way of being, or maybe also the opposite?

As individuals we are alone: professionally alone, emotionally alone, psychically alone, socially alone (an oxymoron, and yet real). How can we recover our capacity of sharing, of trusting, of being together. How can we make solidarity be real and not just a naive vow? How can we be less cynical in front of our being human?

In the postwar time, when human disaster is attested, help and sharing are the only way to make or build something – in a very concrete and physical sense. Shall we wait for the war to be over, shall we wait for the general disaster to be definitive, or shall we dare to recover a real communication and sharing with others?

How can I be less alone through a solo?

———-

Sometimes you find me in my room, going mad with spectres,

for my mother told me to be kind to everybody.

Still, I am not the Messiah I often thought I was, but isn’t my duty anyway to seek after truth?

Not all of us will be dazzled by her. Light exists even where it doesn’t shine. The illusion of the eclipse:

it is we who are hidden from the hidden light And yet, it is with pleasure, you know?,

that in the late-summer night I died in Sarajevo

Teaser