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There is a moment that comes after the struggles, hopes, despairs, after wins and after losses, in a man realizes that what remains is only its strength.

too insistently the events of the feelings they fold in on themselves, trying to perpetuate subtle torture games or when time has removed all meaning.

Yes, passing all possible experiences, there is a time in which a man realizes he's left alone with his own strength.

A force that can do things which it itself, then, may no longer be remedied; a force that wants to go beyond their limits.

must be why that one night recently, I returned to the lighted square of yellow, and I threw back my lighter in the belly of the machine.

I knew that the vacuum tirricelliano, tangles, the intestines, relentless monsters I did not have returned a second time.

Why the universe operates according to rules that you can not replace the perennial exceptions, such as being made to take my lighter irreducible.

I greeted with a final sequence of ritual gestures to summon his flame, and until the last he tried to resist.

E 'was last cigarette of the great emotional farewell which only will make sense.

Then I abandoned the occult chews large stomach of steel, forest components apparentementi inexplicable as the stubbornness of my lighter not to be loved.

Only an immense force, and temporary, has allowed me to do it: I still lacked the strength to pull off, and that was not siffuciente, then, to overcome the thing done.
Several times I tried, then to retrieve it, and still I try, from time to time.

Mi graffio, mi ferisco, nel cieco tentativo di estrarlo di nuovo dal ventre della macchina - e ho recuperato una quantità di oggetti senza valore, talloncini d'autostrada, caramelle, minutaglie, che il ventre mi restituisce con ironia, continuando a tenersi il mio accendino.

E soprattutto adesso, esaurite tutte le esperienze possibili, dopo che sono stato costretto a distruggerlo - soprattutto adesso che non l'ho più posso affermare che quello era l'accendino della mia vita.

Ciò non mi impedisce di averne altri, di poco prezzo, da dimenticare sui tavolini subito dopo averli comprati -- o, meglio, da gettare anch'essi nel ventre della macchina, pera dare a lui un po' di compagnia; perchè I now know was a good man and good man, I discovered, does not pay its bills in the currency of loyalty.

That is redemptive for the faithless.

A good man pays to the end with the suffering of any solitary time that hopes to survive the immense responsibility not a done deal - and it survives, mutes and moves on.

pains fade away, the regrets are mixed, the outlines of the memory fade.
And then stuns and satisfies, this mystery of a life as the greatest of all his pieces together.

"The belly of the machine" Sandro Veronesi