Letter to eternal kittens of the thin red mile.


Every day I see you, with every shape, color, soul.
Aborted gems of a sick world, for our sick and indifferent world.
broken and frozen lives in our indifference.
Lives lost and relegated to the edges.
I will see, anger and pain in one hand, the other blind faith.
The horror in the heart, with the extreme pressure to fight the leviathan that is the man.
I’m a dejected eye and bruised.
He sees and does not forget, does not forgive, not even himself.
But first I was not so.
I pulled on the mask and I was filming to walk, indifferent to what was flowing around me, blind and deaf.
Brutal indifference, lethargy murderess.
I stopped, threw the mask and screamed.
I saw her on the ground, it was not mine, I heard the cry, was not mine.
I felt a stupid doll no bones nor nerves.
Eyes, dead glass marbles.
But it was only a moment, I did not think, I did not think, not then.
I pulled on the mask and put. I am the mask.
And ambulatory again, until bumped the next corner and start all over again from scratch.
Once again, the mask fell and I hurried to put it back because I was afraid of myself naked.
But I’ll never know to be afraid, because I’m not living.
I was holed up in a dark corner, I huddled and silent, voiceless and ears, no sight nor hearing.
I do not know what I was, but I am.
This, really know.
I have an eye. And a heart, do not forget and not forgive.
I am with you, little brother.

Little brother.

At 2.20 am of seven years ago, you called me for the last time, but I was too far away and you went alone. I arrived too late. I made you rest near your “Captain” brother with tears and all types of flower of the garden, I said you hi and prayed, perhaps for both. I hope you have find a peace and the other guys. See you later, my little brother.


About cats and photography.


(Image and copyright of Sabrina Boem, published with the kind permission of the author).

A picture can break through in our sensitivity, show us the point of view of another person or another living creature?
Or give us a perspective on reality? Not necessarily ours, but the real one.
Show us the hiatus, the gray area in which some of us are or perceive?
Show the world that we have created or corrupted in our human image?
Imagine a world, your world, a species that excludes from your living space, and you are confined in a gray area.
Imagine the people who in their tragic and conscious awareness of a partial failure of trying to remedy the human nature, people too human to be animals, too animal to be human.
He, or she, in front of the open door, the road, his home, but in fact a potentially hostile environment. Above him the symbol of the Italian National Animal Protection Organization.
A paradox.
We protect us from ourselves. From our human nature.
I feel its necessity, its tragedy. He wants a better world, where not fear death at every corner for a person indifferent or idiot. He only wants what we all want, to live.
Maybe it’s just my illusion mental construct.
Perhaps it is the fruit of my human condition with the eye and the heart bruised, hands sunk in the shared pain, blood, saliva mixed to the acrid mud of life.
However, I run with them, I try to feel what they show me with an open heart and an open mind, with modesty and  shyness, on tiptoe.
Like this picture.