are very slow to react debates or controversies that are opened between the real and virtual worlds, and perhaps, not being in the same geographic area in which the debates are set up, I remain even more difficult. Write, edit: blogs, facebook, video and everything ... But now it seems somehow to be born already in the network, I recall the story of a verb that is actually intimately related with this issue. This is the verb read. Reading: from the Latin past participle of legere Lectus, more like the greek: ein slightly reminiscent of an earlier speech, speech, and that brings with it the echo of the root leg, gather, collect. Gather sounds, numbers, explaining how the experts in etymology, collect the eye-written or printed characters, words, pronounce them, recite them and let them take on a meaning. Readers, therefore, are the real protagonists, those who have the ability to gather and collect and make sense. Then read, yes, a beautiful art and very hard in his hand a lot more power than we think. Reading, put together, collect and re-establish a pattern and meaning. Who will? They will all those who will become co-authors of ideas, not flat to any publisher, much less to some editors, but who will read things, riannudando sounds and rediscovering the meaning. Moreover, this writer knows very well that words, once written, does not belong ... more
and write, is not a profession but a vocation, a sweet and sometimes difficult birth of thoughts and words that would otherwise remain hidden in the tangled and cobwebs of the mind. Write an event in which the ego out of its shell and lose all paternalism and Maternal-thing but very easy to speak, because writing, once made visible, no longer belongs to us already, because it leaves us thinking of becoming other. Writing, an ethical act, therefore, not only when we choose the contents, but because, as the philosopher Maria Zambrano would say, in the act of writing the words are retained, subject to the rhythm and the pace I might add-who-is the possibility face contributions, and we to transform the case, the spontaneity, aggression, arrogance, an award or simply rush into something that can actually serve to live, not only to be externalized and given to know at all. But today this opportunity to provide a rhythm to the words, ethics is indeed a possibility, contribution to the difficult parts of women and men in search of life, man and the cosmos. Today, more than ever I feel the responsibility of writing on paper or on virtual pages, notes on a book already written by others or on a thesis of a student. Write a difficult movement and contribute to society and life. And I think that today, while writing like any other human or cosmic creativity, is also examined by the logic of the market and its implacable laws. Indeed, today even the words are regarded as private or public property, along with thoughts, water, natural resources, the fruits of the earth, air, etc ... So these days I returned to thinking what I have so often dreamed I would be writing Tifinagh character-writing-in the desert Tuareg, mystical consonants that remain hidden secret paths to write without obeying the order of pre-Roman letters and keep the moaning and exclusive lines of those who read and interpret. I would be writing characters Tifinagh to slide from right to left and left-right coordinates broken down, diagonal and reversed metric severed. I would be writing Tifinagh characters, to mark the breath and encode the texture of my and others' paths of life. Not to write on behalf of others, not to speak for others, but simply to evoke the conscience of the desires and dreams of the acts and the infinite possibilities that each of us has when reading, writing, speaking. While each in its own right decipher the alchemical formula of scents and pollen of life. But that is now difficult to read, write and speak!
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