Christmas is Coming?
Let's Get Out of Here

by Alessandro Bergonzoni


And the stars? Stars are not freckles in the sky.
Enough donations, enough specials, blackheaded gifts on the face of the earth...
Oh, dumb oxen, don't be such donkeys!

Christmas, coming with a sleigh pulled by four depressed seagulls, I see people leaving home and not going back because they gave it as a present, gave it away.
The King Giveaway won over Christmas, a man apparently altruistic until he died, but he didn't die, he had someone else killed in his place. Monarchy of obligations, making up unravelling fine words, wishes to those who are faking it, so many words, so little time...
Christmas is the circus for those without a cause, for those who have nothing-to-say-we'll-call-you, for those who say I-live, I-was-summer, I'm-here, when I was little at Christmas, I died (out ofdesire and I gave magnifying lenses to those who did not see the time).
You can give an armchair if you want because there is no certainty in a couch; a pianoforte for those who are indecisive, a lovely nothing to those who have everything that's ugly, an eye for an eye for those who are vindictive, another cheek for those who forgive, a friend if you love animals. Be nice with Snow White, abolish the commanders, the remote controls, and delete the dates, whether it is that of a generous Christmas but not all kinds: define, wish, choose, exchange, send away who lives Christmas only at Christmas.
Mirror mirror of my desire, tell me what the essence of this kingdom is! Your are adored, not adorned, if

Foto - Primo piano di Alessandro Bergonzoni

you are lovely within; if it is your one hundredth Christmas, sell it for half a penny, if they ask you to choose between giving your word or giving the numbers, give the numbers, get out of the tradition, go for a walk, whoever chooses to be better can do it for the cannibals or not at all because Christmas is not always edible, in fact it is often indigestible and indirigible, uncontrollable, fleeting, never relaxing, often strained, then unconvincing... Cheers to those who don't sweat the small stuff, who replace humility by magnificent vitality, who knock not only on doors but down any wall, who inundate without water, who avert a disaster when it comes or better before it does, who honour their father but not always honour, who know that the word hero has four letters too may, who repudiate with faithfulness everything conscious of the fact of knowing how to change, who is not afraid of fear, who stops speaking about courage and continues working on fear, who have more chairs, more roots, more countries, more fathers, more mothers, more children, more double meaning, less traffic lights (or

at least with more colour), to whom enjoys the ocean, to whom dredges without undermining, to whom makes nice differences between invokers and lawyers, to whom stirs things up, to whom cares but not heedlessly, to whom mulls things over now, and then works them out again...
To whom lets loose and does not bind, but fights to unchain
, to all those who look but don't see (or see only those they look), to all those who learn they have to give pleasure until they actually want to, to those who have discovered that they have a temple between the temples, to those who go witch hunting with the witches but not to hunt.
My best wishes to all. Best wishes to those whose ideas are not confused, to those who make the difference between good and bad, to those who paint, sculpt, sing in the shower, to those who will never imitate anyone, who will climb on a giraffe, who do not keep for themselves, who go into hibernation to learn about moles, who want such a life and such a story for Christmas, and to the others.