Before I have to confess something: I hate blogs.
Sometimes we got to the event and I start to read a piece. If all goes well I find some havoc. If it's bad, I read things that are so absurd that I wonder if there was really need to write certain things.
Today, I open myself to a blog. I can only wish not to write something that seems ingenious to me, or at least worthy of being written and read, but instead appears to be the most foolish un'emerita.
Why do I open a blog? Because I have a mission. I have to tell everyone what everyone knows. So why tell it? Because even if everyone knows it, they behave as if they knew. Is not this a mission?
And then I could not continue using the site Harwa for things that do not relate to the excavation except in a marginal way. Even if, after all, what's behind the competition that I lost, has a lot to do with the excavation project which I'm going now for fifteen years. It seemed, however, stain the site of continuing to speak their Harwa there contests decided by arbitration, the mafia and University of the sad situation in Egyptology today (normally I write with a capital letter, this is not the case) Italian.
Yuck! How many times have said and repeated it to me. Now I want to tell all. I kept quiet for years just waiting for this moment. I waited for the wrong that I immediately was objectively manifest. If I had not waited until today I could always say that I wrote and denounced only resentment. It 's true, sometimes rancorous. But this is not the case.
I'm going to tell my personal experience to make a case. This is something perfectly normal, no more or less similar to that of other dozens of people. Those who lost a contest that, according to Italian law, they should win? E 'for this reason that I feel compelled to tell. For groped at least to change things.
Some of those who have followed me on the site of Harwa asked me why I decided to name my story "Sodom. Chronicle of a competition announced. " These are two different quotes. The first refers to Saviano and his "Gomorrah." Saviano takes the title from the writings of denunciation of Don Giuseppe Diana and talks about the Camorra. I'm talking about mafia university. The first takes its toll among the citizens, the second killing the country. Do not tell me you did not realize that Italy is a country in agony. The second part of the title is a tribute to one of my favorite authors: Gabriel García Márquez. My story may well start quoting the opening words of the Chronicle of a Death Foretold: "The day when he lost the contest, Francesco Tiradritti, got up at 6.30 ..." (that day I was slightly less early morning of Santiago Nasar) and going forward to paraphrase ... "Everyone knew what were the intentions of the Commissioners of the competition, but nobody tried to stop them. Maybe because they did not believe they would go to the end ... or maybe simply to indifference and silence. "
To those who have followed me on the site of Harwa I promised to start with a love scene. Today I have dwelt a bit 'and have no time. But I have no intention to keep a promise. Soon it is Valentine's Day. It 's a nice day to talk about love. Reference for the last time the beginning of this story next Monday, Valentine's Day.
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