nothing happened
Series of ten objects. Broken glasses, pack-thread.

who was drowsy awakes
others exhaust their time
who was elsewhere is elsewhere even when is coming back
and the cycle ends

the wheel turns
those who wanted to escape this simple motion have invented complex levers and mechanisms
mysterious machinations to exploit the strengths of others
dreaming the perpetual motion
in the inertness
as parasites

living by the others’ soul does not preserve one’s own
and to elude the logic of entropy is a fruit of the illusion
to think about procrastination means not to live
to freeze
to deny what Atropo provided and let it to decay closed into a drawer
it is to proclaim one’s own misfortune
it is the mournful crying of the coward

the chalice is metaphor of abundance
of life
of union in love
but also of inheritance to be divided
of loot
of easy opportunities and of improvident abuse

the chalices that break falling from the hands are the end of the substance
the end of the party
the end of the opportunities after the last drop has been drunk from that cup which represents the impoverishment of oneself and the others

the wheel turns
the times are changing
but this is only a cycle that recurs

who was drowsy awakes
since a long time we assist to the prodromes of the transition from the wild era of the intelligence to the intelligence of the wild era

it is coming the end of an epoch of artificiality
of sophistication and mystification
of pollution and degradation
of wounds that for avidity have been kept open with any stratagem
wounds that want to close again
even preserving the scars as evidences of what it has been

the meaning of the repairing
desperate attempt of unwillingness to look at reality
illusion that nothing could change
that the winning game is not over
even in the Elysium

at the end there is no trace of the Self
but just the vacuity into the useless memorabilia of the extorted fate

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