GHOSTS

After Christmas lunch I didn’t feel well, was it the lasagna? Too much panettone?

…I saw more closely, and I noticed a small cut on my skin…and since it was a bad day, I fell into it.
I found myself in a dark room, watching memories pass me by, some colorful, some black and white.
There was a smell of nostalgia and resentment.

Now the room was full of people.
all close to a huge cut on the wall.

They were angry

they were sad

they were disappointed

There was a black thread tying them to that cut.
They were yelling at him, picking on him with that gash on the wall, like he was an enemy.
It was their wound still open and they kept blaming her
And I had done it that day too.

Pulling those threads and hoping to close it, to make it at least a scar
But getting stuck in it, everyone was yelling at her “E’ it’s your fault I’m sick” “you have to change to make me feel good”

But how much power is given to the other, making him the cause of his own ills?
Believing itself to be clay shaped from the outside.
How heavy does that last name get, when you want to imagine a different life?
Believing in destiny.
How many possibilities are lost behind the story of the apple that doesn’t fall far from the tree?

But those aren’t truths, they’re just ghosts

It takes a lot of courage, to move beyond anger.
It takes a lot of imagination not to believe in ghosts.

You need the cure for healthy thinking

for new skin…

Gianluca Ambrosini