Fabrizio Ulivieri - Content Creator

  Wir hören immer das Gleich, da die Zeiten durchlässig und flüssig sind. Wir zu erwidern zögern aus der Menschtiefen heraus. Aber wir wissen es. Wir wissen, daß ein spöttisches Achselzucken, ein einfaches Wegwenden, nicht mehr möglich ist. Die Fragen haben unterwegs ihren Sinn verloren. Es ist Zeit, zu bekämpfen. Wir lassen uns nicht zurückfallen, an den vorherigen Tagen, die, nicht mehr so deutlich zu uns sprechen. Es ist Zeit, zu bekämpfen oder sterben.

Thank you. Thank you for that,” he said, his big boyish eyes still full of pain. In 1975, the young army intelligence officer who was now sitting in front of him, old and fat like a pig, had been working undercover and trying to blow the whistle. They were meeting for the first time at the officer’s house in Belfast, more than 30 years after those events. “You must be Robert,” said the officer as he opened the door. “I’m Anthony. It’s good to meet you, Robert. Come in, let’s talk.” “I was reporting all the facts, but I was ordered to stop digging and forget all about it. My fault, Anthony. That’s the thing that still hits me. If I had really pushed it through in 1975 or 1976, you could have been rescued. I’m sorry, Anthony. I didn’t have the strength or the courage to do it.” That was when Anthony made a big effort to say: “Thank you. Thank you for that.” It took real effort. He felt completely empty and disillusioned, but he was still able to be civil. He realised that the man in fron...

There is a creative and loving force inside most of us that guides us through life.  These people don’t have this. For them it’s the opposite.  (Mel Gibson) In those Days I had to find a religion to measure my evil against. Evil has already gotten a strong tinge of cruelty. God was dead, Church was dead. The major part of us was so frail in front of such a fraud. I used to write science-fiction novels. I stopped  in those days. Reality was more interesting than science-fiction. I couldn’t any more write a book. I did not know how to plot a story, any longer. I was quiet, too quiet. I was thrilled, too thrilled. I was in a quagmire. I was dying in it. I was pervasive. I was everywhere. Was I alive? I thought so. I was not dead, ergo I was alive. That was the masterpiece of my life... A masterpiece of resonance. I was going around on a new battlefield. A Purgatory which was worse than the Hell. But it was bliss in the end. It was bliss even though I didn't believe in H...