I wrote a couple of years ago in an almost dream-like and jet almost never happened to me. The pace is fast and frenzied as the rush of a wolf in the woods, at the very moment in which I carried within me the words out to me, I was really the wolf and I hope to be able to give the feeling of his race blind and desperate. My usual system of breaks and ruptures, the 'head', and punctuation, I think of my son used to the contemplation of plants and trees grow slowly in this case is not respected. As this story continues to consider part of my "Trilogy of the Trees" (which account for the story walnut, along with 'Leaves', beech, and' A man of wood and stone, larch), perhaps we could say that in this case I once wrote a story instead of "vegetable", a story "Animal" . I am a contemplative person but I also passionate soul who, apparently, sometimes it has to let off steam. The argument is precisely the "Passion." Or better "Eros and Thanatos." Love and Death. ;
Passion is perhaps the experience that the most loving of all houses in its depths the life instinct (Eros) and the instinct of death (Thanatos) in a possible, though difficult coexistence.
As witness to this experience I can think of Paolo and Francesca, the result of a mind quite passionate, as it should be that of Dante. The two lovers, located in the circle of the lustful, wandering for eternity in hell that the storm will sweep them away and, for eternity, one of the most beautiful words ever been written about love:
"Amor, ch ' to no one beloved from loving,
I took delight in him so strongly,
that, as you see, it does not leave me "
Passion is all rare in this ocean of pain and tolerance requirements. The impossibility of give up on love and give love once loved. Despite the disastrous fate that this may prtare that is made clear in the following verse:
"Love led us to one death,"
Here are the evil consequences of the above: the twinning forerunner of Eros and Thanatos. Opening up to the romanticism and psychoanalysis. By Sigmund Freud.
At some point in his work, Freud noticed that the psyche was not only governed by a drive (= binge and primordial) pleasure, but also a destructive drive, a death instinct. The life instinct (Eros), was accompanied by a death drive (Thanatos), the two drives are simultaneously present in every person, as opposed dialectic.
This is Love and Death. Eros and Thanatos.
two concepts that seem distant and mutually exclusive, but as we see, in fact inextricably linked.
When I wrote the story, of course, I had it in mind Dante Freud, nor a comparison between the original Dolce Stil Novo and psychoanalysis. Nothing further. I was simply driven by an uncontrollable urge to write. But the unconscious of every man Eros and Thanatos are eternal struggle and perhaps "like a wolf from a witch 'is a fruit.
The fact that it is a story without an ending is due to the fact that this struggle is, indeed, eternal. Passion of their lives, and in this struggle. Arrive at a resolution of the struggle (both in favor of Eros Thanatos) means an end to the Passion. Better to crystallize all in the time it reaches the climax. A final
actually wrote it, and I lived. but will remain for me.
Way, way, but even the shadow of witches (perhaps no shadow?). Perhaps I should look for a walnut. Because I know that witches escaped the blaze turning into trees walnut. and I also know that under her branches celebrated the pagan ritual of puberty and witches gathered there for their Sabbath. The Druids were the same with the wise old oak trees, but no witches, they preferred the nuts. And the birch? it is said that there is nothing like most witch who dance naked at night, between the logs, silvery in the moonlight, a forest of birches. While watching the wolves howl all night like in the grip of some strange calamity. But I'm just mad with love for those creatures that dance music that you can not hear.
Like a wolf from a witch
A story of Eros and Thanatos
no beginning and no end
... and suddenly like them, one of them, wolf among wolves, run fast, darting between the trees, tireless, relentless, run, run, run, fragmented images of my mates flock running around me and lungs from the red-hot metal fatigue taste cold air of winter. A reminder deaf, I broke out violently, and gently unsustainable in the breast, I devour the heart and soul, and I run, I run faster than others, faster than all, faster than I could, attracted like a moth to a flame by candle, like a castaway from the songs of the sirens, like a wolf by a witch.
leagues endless flow beneath my feet, whole worlds made of ancient forests and endless plains parade around me without them worth a look, only because we care about the call and the time is short. The night is slipping away and with it the time of witches and the Time of the Wolf. Suddenly I realize I'm left alone, the howls of My brothers are far behind me. Maybe I'm the chosen one of the witch? or maybe I fooled myself to and to have the wrong direction? The mind seems to burst, doubt and fear consumes me I cold strip along the spine. For a moment I go through two simultaneous views the mind, the first a woman, dressed in veils amp I caress the fur behind the ears, whispering sweet words in the other the same woman, naked except for a hideous mask, ripping me heart and devours it. I do not have time to think that the turning around I see, not the woman but a strange vision of the hill slope, surrounded by thin fringes of mist rises from the fertile land surrounding the nipple as the Great Mother. I Its slopes are completely covered by birch trees, made up of an odd number of distinct sections. I toss to the top running mad and glad to my fate whatever it is. I go up to big jumps between the silver trunks to a wide open clearing that I see on the summit. I almost reached and I realize that it stands at the center of the impossible size of a walnut tree whose leaves millennium stretch for dozens of meters in every direction. I stop at the beginning of the clearing. The air is cold like the blade of a knife and motionless ... but the leaves of the walnut move in unison and whispered words that do not seem to understand .... I have a vague perception of many creatures that have begun to dance to my shoulders. But my eyes are magnetized one that is not my intention to the tree and from there up to the crown, there I saw a light in the tangle of branches after death that slowly descends on the lawn throwing the shadows of the huge branches as colossal arabesques. The dawn is coming, the sun is rising on the opposite side at the same speed with which a little before I went up the slope behind me. There is no time I have to decide. I toss to the light in a last ditch, gigantic leap .... seems to open the trunk ... the first rays of sun burn the foliage of the tree .... my eyes are starting to see a shape in the light ..... and
