Sunday, 6 March 2016


June 2011 I land to London. An escape planned since a long time to get away from an oppressive mentality and a hard and harder economic situation. An escape which was also my last attempt to reignite my marriage, which for some years had been troubled: a desperate attempt to force my wife to take a decision that she was unable to take.
To quit has been the mistake. All that followed has been built upon that mistake. After few months I began a new relationship, with a girl of who I have often spoken on this blog. I knew, in the heart of my heart, that she would have forsaken me. It was something I had seen. But sometimes we must walk a path even if it's not our own path. And so I did, for two years and a half. By that girl I learned to hate London, I learned to look at the world without naivety, and many more things. I loved her with all my heart, I made her feeling wrong, I hurt her keeping with me the ghost of my wife and a bond I couldn't broke. For her I gave up to all my projects and all my dreams and for her I stayed in a city I despise, I endured a job and a life style which got me fading away, depriving me of my willpower. For her I accepted to be branded as the one always dissatisfied, always unhappy and infecting everybody with his discontentment. Then her job, which she loved more than me in the end, took her away from me, as I had foreseen two years earlier.
I had arrived to the end of a path which had brought me back to the starting point. On Spring 2014 I was alone again,but without my dreams to support me. Maybe to punish myself for my own mistakes, maybe because really certain that another relationship would have made impossible a second escape, I entertained myself in a life style which wasn't mine, changing many women, refusing a stable relationship to all, hurting some, pissing off all of them. But I never lied to them, and maybe was exactly this to make them furious. Meanwhile I had begun frenetically to look for a job out of London, and even better out of the United Kingdom. But something still tied me to London: a second woman ghost who didn't let me go. Or that I didn't let go, as I hadn't let go the first one.
After one year of useless job applications and even more useless women, I realized I was sinking in depression, and a short time later I gave up women. Or rather, realizing that what I needed was a relationship and not a row of unsatisfactory adventures, I opened myself to the possibility of a relationship and started to meet only those women interested in a relationship. One by one, all those women who had hinted to such an interest, shown themselves more useless than those who had spread their legs for me for and afternoon or a night of sexual dissatisfaction. In words women want a long-lasting relationship, actually they are frightened by it. A conspicuous phone book was reduced in few months to a very short list, to which I added new numbers pretty much every week  just to delete them in the span of one or two weeks. The job applications carried on with intermittence, now determined to quit, then resigned to stay in a city which is the sum of all human's sins. Until...
Until something snapped inside me. Back from a short vacation to Iceland, a land which enthralled me and where I was sure I could get back in touch with my most inner self, I started to set new goals, I started again to dream. Then, at an art fair, I found and bought a painting which had triggered something in me, making me to understand that I couldn't wait any more who wouldn't be back. With this awareness I stopped avoiding my ex-girlfriend, I met her again after a long time and something she said, in a way that had a false easiness to it, severed the last string bonding me to her. I still love her, as I still love my wife, but now I understand that there's no sense in keep bleeding for somebody who doesn't want to stay with me.
Nothing more held me in London, something had changed in my attitude, and among the jobs I applied for during the last Christmas time there was one in the Caribbean.
Here I've summarized shortly my last five years and a journey which brought me from the Appennini Mountains to the grey sky of London and then under the harsh Caribbean sun. I can't say that here I'll be happy. I can't say that here I will put down those roots I need. I don't know if one day I'll go back to Italy. Neither if after some time I will wonder for the world again. But there's something which is sure: I resumed marching on that path which coils on itself to shape the Labyrinth. I'm not still any more and move towards its dead end, where God waits for all of us.

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