A short movie about memories, people, love, fear, death, corruption, salvation.

Evil: our travel companion.
And our salvation.
I don’t know whether it’s true or not. The first time I saw my mother cry was when Aldo Moro was killed. I saw her cry that time. And never again.
I don’t know whether it’s true or not. How can you live with a tangle of death and love inside?
I am Demetrio. I am my brother Silvio. I am Tomacèk the redhead who died at ten, killing himself with rat poison. I am my mother who screams and my father who never talks to me. And the dead of the world are a little bit of your death.
How can we love something that’s already been saved? How can we love something that’s not flawed?
Is it possible that what I love becomes evil, so evil that it poisons itself?
Even Conception, the Grace of coming into the world, is drenched in an evil spell.
I write to keep the evil I have inside me at bay, the evil that I am, that which I do and that which I suffer. I write because I am affectionate to the body I have, to the flesh around my bones that I love, but I know that my body, like all of them, is evil.
I, I will fall in a dark pit, and you, not even you, can do anything about it.
I can’t turn away, I’m compelled to watch. I live with ghosts. This flows in my veins. This is the multitude in me.
The story can’t go on. Who, who is talking?
I don’t know if my name is true. I don’t know if it’s less true. My name is Tiresia, Tomacèk, Silvio, Demetrio, Giulia, Carla, Isabella, Marta, Marco. I am not only one thing, I am that which I am not.
In my end is your beginning. My name is legion.

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