Fabrizio Ulivieri - Content Creator

(Silendo libertatem servo - Gladio)   Li avevo sempre alle spalle gli sciacalli. Quando io fallivo intervenivano loro e procedevano all’eliminazione. Volteggiavano sopra di me come condor, quasi pregustassero il momento in cui avrei fallito per calare definitivamente giù. E qualche volta fallivo. E quando fallivo non avrei mai voluto fallire perché condannavo a morte con il mio fallimento. La mia coscienza soffriva. Urtava. Sanguinava, come le mani dei condor. Chi ero io dunque? Ero un Economic Hit Man. Il mio compito era sottrarre migliaia di miliardi di dollari ai paesi che il mio paese si era offerto di aiutare solo per indebitarli e rendere i loro popoli schiavi eterni del debito. Poi il mio compito era riversare quelle migliaia di miliardi nelle casse di multinazionali controllate da un numero ristretto di famiglie che controllano il mondo. Sono sempre le stesse famiglie da decadi. Cinque sei famiglie non di più, tutte sotto la stessa stella. Io avevo cinque met...

Her smile hit me straight in the heart. And it hurt. I would never have imagined her so happy. She was really happy, in that picture. I felt envy and yet her smile gave me back serenity. She was cooking, in that picture. And she was smiling. - Little things can give great happiness. But you never listened to me. A sharp pain and then my heart began to beat again as before. - But was it a real smile of happiness? Smiles in pictures are never true, after all. A smile like that can be deceiving. How can a negative, selfish and unhappy woman like her be happy? Her smile meant distance: La imagine per solo fama generata è sempre più ampia, quale che essa sia, che non è la cosa imaginata ner vero stato*** Her inherent nature was the nature of a bitch, ready to sell herself to whomever would pay the most. Who lives deeply inside such a nature gains a deep throat and never finds rest. I'm a humanist. I study humanity. I'm running behind humanity following men like Po...

The men of yesterday are gone, and it is doubtful whether those alive today will still be here tomorrow. The destiny of a single man scarcely allows time for a single breath (Hojo Shigetoki) The first time I met Taeko I was struck by the firmness of her breasts. She sat bolt upright on a horse. I admired her martial beauty as she cleared fence after fence, her posture oddly unyielding. Her generous breasts stood firm, immovable, like marble to my eyes. When I encountered her in the flesh it was her face that intrigued me. She smiled vacantly. Two deep, sweet eyes laughed in unison with her mouth. The light was so intense I had to look away. Her face was like a porcelain mask – polished, polished to a sheen that seemed to deny its own life. When I was introduced, it was Ayako who offered a compliment: - Pretty dress. I like it to death. I did not catch Taeko’s reply, for at that moment the announcer proclaimed the entry of another rider into the arena. Show jumping was a sport unkno...

Foto Artur Politov Feelings are not decisions of a mind. What comes up frequently is a state of circumstances. We call it mood. And it is changing in the same way our feelings are changing. In our feelings there is nothing that can be bound to a value, to a logical thought. Feelings are born in the inner state of our body, in the guts of our bowels, from chemical and bacterial compositions and decompositions. Therefore sentiments are blind, since they are generated by the obscure regions of our intestines, by invisible and inscrutable reasons above all. After the divine mystery the intestines are one of the deepest mysteries. Some years ago I wrote a short story where a man's burp changed the direction of his life. That burp unblocked him and opened him up to a new direction, to the Evil that was smoldering, completely hidden, in his bowels. Often these sentiments announce the struggle of inner bacterial forces. Externally ingested substances can alter the perception ...

Com'è cominciato il '68? Forse pochi sanno che tutto cominciò con l'uccisione di uno studente, Benno Ohnesorg. Fu ucciso volontariamente da un poliziotto tedesco, Karl Heinz Kurras, che poi si scoprì lavorava per la STASI, la polizia segreta della Germania comunista. Se non ci fosse stato quell'omicidio forse neppure sarebbe cominciato il '68. Ma la STASI aveva forse programmato quell'omicidio. Si doveva creare un caso (oggi si chiamano false flags) per scatenare l'odio verso la polizia di stato della Germania Federale e verso lo stato stesso della Germania Federale, già colpevole quel giorno di ospitare lo Scià Reza Pahlavi, contro il quale si erano appunto mobilitate le contestazioni studentesche. Molti sapevano. E molti tacquero. Il senso di colpa, specialmente in un paese luterano, non è qualcosa che si scioglie come neve al sole ma può perdurare e tramandarsi dal padre al figlio e condizionare le scelte dei figli, di una società che paga ...

From "Succhi Gastrici e effetti collaterali" in  Academia "Ηθος Ανθρωπῳ Δαιμων" To a man character is demon (Heraclitus) Men call me “whore." They say I'm a whore. Very simple the minds of men. For them, you are the mother, the sister, a saint or a whore. I'm twenty-five years old. I had about two hundred men. I made love the first time when I was eigtheen. I do not remember all their faces. I do not remember all their names. I remember their smells though. Their sexes. The enjoyment I felt with each one of them. People do not understand. I'm not a whore. I just need sex like you need to eat or breathe. Sex calms me down. It makes me feel good. When I'm nervous I need a man. His body, the heat of his flesh, calms me. They make me feel I am no longer alone on this earth.  His member takes away the deep pain and anguish I carry around. Anguish that comes from afar. Unknown. I masturbate every day. Inside me there is...