Birthdays and Valentine
Today is Valentine's Day, but it's also my birthday. They are twenty-eight, in this round. For me as a Zitello coincidence has its positive sides. Your birthday is so, one day as another special someone tries to make a special day that slips as any other. Waiting for a call that never comes, you get a couple of unexpected lines that seem the best gift. I make jokes about the coincidence of timing, this saint celebrated all over the world, but which has a face. Would you say the historian Eric Hobsbawm, a typical case of "invention of tradition". Consequence of marketing, which is the soul of trade, and poetry, is the marketing of the soul. As explained in an essay writer Francesco Pacific a few years ago, the early nineteenth century, there was a party almost forgotten English, it was tradition that estraesse by lot the name of a girl, they wrote a poem, it is signed "Your Valentine." It brings to mind the story of what he wanted married on Valentine's Day, held us crazy, it seemed a gesture so romantic and had done everything possible to succeed, only after that call, shares and everything, he realized that that day officially on the calendar of saints, there is more. After all, between SanValentino and birthdays, the assumption is the same: to discover that love, like life, is not eternal, you exorcise this sunset with parties and expensive gifts maybe, or with the obligatory diamond, we know, is "forever," as advertising. Of lovers, as the years go by, you realize suddenly, and usually when it is too late. In a book Johan Harstad, entitled "What happened to you, Buzz Aldrin?", The story of one who has chosen to live in the shadows, and that my friend Valentina mentioned very often, at one point the protagonist says: "The first What you think, when you meet someone new, is whether you fall in love with him. Or her. It is the same for everybody. " Pages later, with time spent, he thinks, "I wanted everything to be stagnated since the last time we had spoken, the dust last year on the window frames. But almost nothing stays still. Even the mountains move, the continental plates move every year, and old friends rust in the rain. "
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