Financial crises are doing what they better know to do: they destroy the system. Obviously there are huge crises and little crises, but they have one point in common: the change. If the crisis is little and you are able to manage it, the change will be natural and you will pass it. If it is big and strong, the change will be big and strong and you can wait. Fichte said that the reality is described by a sort of dialectical structure. After the crisis and the change you can see thenew world, a rainbow after the storm. As Ron Paul said somewhen you can’t prevent the depression, the depression is an element of the market and an element of the reality.

The jazz darkness of the mind,

fiction of our brains, spreads to reality.

“Me” is the only word I know; Yes, the unique possibility to be.

Looking for a woman that never comes back: the tears of my face in front of a porn site. 

Nothing is the only word I know; no, the unique possibility to be.

Now is Autumn; I can see it by all the nature, and the sky, darker than the summer one. Now I can’t dry my hair in the sun and I close the windows during the night. When I wake up I feel a cold wind; the warm bed is my only protection.

Now is Autumn

As I have already said, that’s the first time I write a blog in English. This experience makes me think to the value of the words in our communication. Often the words we use are banal, repetitive; other times we would give a peculiar meaning to common words linked to strange situations. There is an illness, “alexithimia”: the people with this illness are not able to communicate with words the emotions they fell. In general we can say that the world of communication is really complex, in the age of web too.

Using English is important to me; English is not my first language and when I write I must think, I must follew the rationality to convey my feelings. It’s an unusual experience to me.

This is my first blog in English so I apologize myself for all the mistakes I will do. My name is Michelangelo Rossi, I’m Italian and, as you can easily read, this blog speaks about leaves: my golden leaves.

Don’t worried, I’m not a fan of biology or something like that, so my leaves are metaphoric leaves. I live near to the sea and I walk across a road into a pinewood to reach the sea. There are a lot of people during the summer. All the people want to go to the sea and they do not see the trees; they have no time. I love that road and all the time I go there I watch the leaves on me. In the morning they are green, sometimes yellow; in autumn they are red, darker. Once I walked to the road at 12.00, in June. The road was empty. The sun was really strong but the air was remained warm for the presence of the trees’ shadows. That time I watch the trees and I saw the leaves, the golden leaves.

This blog speaks about my golden leaves; this blog speaks about my personal vein of life.