Tuesday, 13. October 2009, 09:10:37
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Welcome on my website!!!
Exhibitions:
2009, maggio-giugno, Ferrara, Castello Estense, UniArt2
2009, maggio-giugno, concorso fotografico, BraviAutori, "Invisibili"
2008, luglio-agosto: Ho partecipato alla rassegna fotografica organizzata da Rex Extensa, sul tema "Il Corpo e l'Architettura" con la foto "L'occhio" (una rielaborazione di una foto-scorcio del Castello di Ferrara, visto dalla sala Imbarcadero numero 1).
2008, dal 6 al 15 giugno, Ferrara, Castello Estense, "UniArt"
2005, marzo-aprile, Ferrara, Mammuth (nuova facoltà di Medicina), "Manto Divino"
2003, maggio, Ferrara, Mammuth (nuovi istituti Biologici), Mostra "Pietre di Confine"
2003, maggio, Ferrara, Centro Sussidi didattici, Mostra "Sassi sospesi"
Collaborazioni:
2009, settembre: dal 23 al 28, collaborazione con la Galleria Spazio d'arte L'Altrove.
2009, ottobre: due illustrazioni per il libro di Gaia Tarini "Morfina", capitoli 22 e 23, per Eumeswil.
2009, ottobre: schizzi per le illustrazioni per una favola di Sara Alberinti.
2009: creo la locandina per la mostra personale dell'artista Terry May, per la mostra che si terrà a marzo nel chiostro di San Paolo, piazzetta Schiatti, Ferrara.
2008 settembre, ottobre, novembre: collaboro con la Galleria dell'Uva per l'allestimento delle mostre nell'ambito della Quarta Biennale internazionale d'arte di Ferrara.
Sono anche custode delle mostre.
2008, 20 luglio: Ho dato un titolo ad un'opera del pittore e poeta Pietro Barbera.
2005: Illustrazione per la rivista del Centro Sussidi Didattici di Ferrara, "La Cisterna"
1999: Colaborazione per l'illustrazione e la creazione di una vetrata artistica, nella bottega di vetrate artistiche di Leo Del Giacomo, Ariano Irpino.
1998: Rivista studentesca del Liceo Classico Pietro Colletta di Avellino, "Moly"
1998: Progetto per una vetrata per una cappella
Upper Waystage Certificate in Wall Street institute, in june 2008
Info e contatti:
marcella.acone@student.unife.it
047399@student.unife.it
hirpina81@libero.it
Another site full of my creation:
http://www.knuckles.truered.net/fans/art/kotani/Starting new pages:
http://www.myspace.com/diari_oscuriSono anche su Facebook: Marcella Emma Acone
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Links...
There are all my stories:
http://www.pennadoca.net/pennadoca/index.php?option=com_content&view=category&id=105:narrativi&Itemid=72&layout=default -->la Biblioteca
You've search for Marcella Acone or Numero1
TITLES:
Numero1
Sogno o vita?
Viaggiatori degli specchi
Aika
Fly, Ako!
Angel Dust
La prova
La vendetta di un angelo
Document (la parodia di una storia spaziale)
Mani (la storia tipo '1984' o 'Brazil', ancora da correggere).
(Work in progress).
Here they are my own stories and fan-fictions; they're all in Italian.
But you can enjoy the pictures!
Another site full of my creation:
http://www.knuckles.truered.net/fans/art/kotani/Starting new pages:
http://www.myspace.com/diari_oscurihttp://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1626589561#/profile.php?id=795724484&ref=nameThis is a video... me drawing. I am the artist and the cameraman!
http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.channel&channelID=455136709&MyToken=180dd964-271e-4f57-935b-fc50fcf5d194Per informazioni sulle malattie rare: c'è ancora qualcuno che muore per una diagnosi errata...
http://morbodiaddison.forumcity.it/viewtopic.php?p=1439&sid=2f41a7e743e2cd34f72c428caf97f39eA site full of art:
http://www.francescama.jimdo.com/http://www.ferraraproart.com/Il sito della mia maestra di origami, Eiko Masui.
http://www.arcobalenorigami.comA story from Throor:
http://geshwa.splinder.com/Un racconto fantasy.
Another site full of stories... all in Italain:
http://www.riccardomerendi.altervista.org/More drawings on
http://melian86.deviantart.com/In this site you've to put on you life vest, 'a ciambella!!!
http://terry-may.spaces.live.comVolevo segnalare questo concorso on-line, per cui i voti sono fondamentali.
http://www.premioterna.it/it/scheda/acrobatiPlease, vote Terry May's "Acrobati"
Il 20 sono terminate le votazioni...
http://diariodiviaggio.voloscontato.it/mangiare-e-bere/posada-de-saragalu-altavilla-irpina.phpUn posto che vi consiglio!
Marble Garden zone: soundtrack from Sonic 3
Versione Italiana di Knuckleduster, by Marcella Acone
Piombato qui
Nella mia vita un dì
Un uomo che
La vita tiene dietro sé
In corse e salti e vertigini
Senza memoria e origini
Vendendo me
In lotta col mio mondo
Credette che
La vita è un gioco anche per me
Antiche storie, enigmi
Segreti tengo in me
Ma qualcosa unì il suo passo al mio
E da allora nulla è uguale più
Un nuovo mondo di avventure al limite
Di corpo e spirito.
Original version by Daniel Baradowsky, Project Chaos
I've gotta know
who takes a life for free?
Some kind of man,
I know would tell her openly
I know your eyes expand
I won't lead you by the hand
I'll ask again,
Pleas, is there anybody free?
A foreign land
Why don't they speak to me?
I know your eyes expand
We can't lead you by the hand
Know you're knuckleduster and you're caught in a relapse now
with eyes half opened a trail of head crumbs,
tell me again where are you from.
I hope you'll enjoy them.
Chaos powered transgenic Numero1
...
Tuesday, 19. May 2009, 08:37:01
There has been a time where I trust people, but this time is gone.
When you put your life in another one's hand, but he/she can't do what do to with it... You have only to leave and search for more, and start again.
It is what happened to me.
When I started my.opera albums, I thought I had a lot of friends, and, in a marvelous (short...) time, I could feel love, without feeling guilty or hiding me somewhere, blushing or thinking I'm stupid.
But if it's so easy to leave, without being called back, is it really friendship?
I feel I could cry a whole ocean, but they won't see a drop of it. I'm gone, like I'm dead, and always it will be for them.
Coming back should be like opening again old and not totally healed wounds, and to start again that old life, without any change...
I know I'm not too easy to love. I'm too serious, I follow too many rules normal people ignore. I think these rules are good, but I don't want anybody else live like me, if he/she does not want to.
But for the ones who are a group, things are different.
They said to me to be relaxed, to be myself, but to be not too serious, to follow them but being myself... I tried.
We had dinners together, we laughed together, we have been seeing each other every week... But it did not seem to have been enough time to learn that I'm not so serious to be in a pose, I don't play. I'm.
The first time I put out my real opinion, about a stupid thing like a nick-name (of a boy older than me and who appeared later than me), my supposed-to-be-friends, who promised to me they'd never left me alone, thought to protect him and not me.
I made what they told to me. I've been myself for the very first time. And that's wrong.
If I'm wrong, I have to leave, and I did so.
In the same time, I learned how the real 'love' is. Please, don't trust movies, films, novels and stories (even mine): love does not win battles, only love it's not enough.
I put all my life, all my heart and mind and past and future (?) in his hands, and he could do nothing with this. He did not valued it. He ignored it.
Love is not for me.
Maybe I have only to get older...
There was a time where I put drawings and friends to the top, then came 'study'.
Now it seems only one can see something good in me.
Even if someone will call me back, I won't return. It's over.
How can you trust anybody, when people you think you know, so easily make you run away, without saying a word?
Monday, 6. October 2008, 10:53:41
People can put the blame on you, even if you are perfectly innocent, and things you do are clear and made without any malice.
My problem is the fact I love my privacy, my own space and to have my own comfort.
I live in a house that's not mine. My Dad pays it every month, so I have to control every cent I spend.
Sometimes the house owner decides to show the house to a new girl, who could be my new house-mate.
She'd have her own room, and we'd have kitchen and bathroom to share.
During last years I have met almost 20 different girls, who stayed from a month to a year, then they gone, having cousins, uncles and aunts, and friends from their home-town who can easily find to her new and better place to live...
But the owner of my apartment thought was all my fault that people don't like to stay in the second room.
Every girl (always with a chaperon, as her boyfriend, Mom, Dad and all the relations you can imagine) seeing this house, said that furniture was too old, too black and that it had a strange smell; they don't like the big holes in walls and thing like that, things you can easily find in a house for students.
They also said it was too little, and it had no rooms to share, to be together and to invite friends in (it has no living rooms).
For me it's not a problem. For ages I have been living in a little house where to open a window, you had to close all other open things, and where there was not enough room to invite friends... and no friends to invite.
I like to be alone, but without exaggerating, of course!
When you seem all alone, you're automatically guilty. No matter if you say "Yes" to every order. No matter if you put the red carpet for every new girl falls in your little nest.
If you are a solitary child-looking strange person, you are the bad one.
And the last girl arrived this year, started to invite people without saying it... started to say that everything was wrong in the house was a my responsibility, because I had been there for ages before her.
She said in her room there was a mouse... but in almost 7 years I have never seen a mouse in my house. The biggest animal you can see there, is a spider or a lizard...
I had to clean everywhere I put my foot, cancel every trace of my presence, I have to count all times I need to go to the toilet... But this new girl was not happy.
I always try to be friendly to every girl that passes my door... I tried to invite her to stay in my Home for Easter Holidays, I invited her to the cinema (we saw 'Persepolis' together, but she seems to have forgetten it), to the Chinese restaurant with my friends, to my birthday, I tried to be gentle...
But my only fault is that I'm not like her.
Where she sees dirty, I see a almost 'Ok' situation.
When she spends all her time sleeping and studiyng and making coffee,
I draw and create, and study, and read, and write...
When she goes around the rooms with a brush and soap, saing how all is dirty and black, I make another piece of art.
I don't like dressing gowns or too girlish things... She's a perfect '50s girl, with perfect hair, high shoes and clear goals in her life.
She wanted to change me, to make me a sorta of slave, or... what the heck she wanted from me.
In the end, the owner of my house thinks I am the bad one.
Now I live in the apartment on the second floor, the same house but a floor higher. Now I have more light, more air, no more leaves to cut, no more people to justify every thing I do...
Now I see my ex balcony. She was used to say me that I had to clean it, because she did it first... now I'll see... And I'll laugh high. I'll laugh at least.
I hope she will not 'kill' the next girl, who is coming right now in my old room...
The owner invented all this bad things about me, only to have more money for the rent... They painted me as a horrible creature, when I use to do my own business and to do right things, and it was all about money.
Chaos powered transgenic Numero1
Friday, 29. February 2008, 11:48:49
Inviato: Mer 27 Feb, 2008 19:12 Oggetto: Beppe Grillo
I'm working on the English version, so all visitors can read.
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<<Ieri sera a Napoli ho chiesto scusa a tutti i Campani.
Yesterday night I said sorry for all people from Campania, when I was in Napoli.
Scusa. Sono qui per chiedervi scusa a nome di tutti gli italiani.
Nel 1861 siete stati annessi dai piemontesi con una guerra di occupazione. Napoli era una delle capitali di Europa.
Sorry. I'm here to say sorry in the name of all Italians.
In 1861 you were annexed by Piemonte in a occupation war. In that time, Napoli was one of the main cities in Europe.
Con Vittorio Emanuele II è diventata la capitale dell’emigrazione. I Savoia si sono portati via la cassa del Regno e vi hanno mandato il generale Cialdini. Decine di migliaia di campani sono stati massacrati.
With the king Vittorio Emanuele II it changed in the main city of emigrants. The Savoia family took the whole treasure of the Kingdom of Napoli, and they sent general Cialdini in change. Thousands of Campani were exterminated.
Prima dei piemontesi erano sudditi del Regno delle Due Sicilie. La mattina dopo erano briganti. La tecnica è sempre la stessa: prima ti infangano, poi ti ammazzano o ti manganellano. Napoli è la capitale mondiale della spazzatura. Sporca, schifosa. E’ su Newsweek, sul Time, su Le Monde. Siete dei benefattori. Smaltite i rifiuti tossici da tutto il mondo, e soprattutto, dalle imprese del Nord Italia. Avvelenare la Campania gli costa meno che smaltire le scorie nocive. Chi ci guadagna? Il prodotto interno lordo!
Before the Piemontesi arriving, Campani were under the Due Sicilie Kingdom. The day after, they were bandits, briganti. Is always the same story: they transform you in bad people, then they kill you and hit you. Now Napoli is the city of rubbish. Dirty, ugly. Is on Newsweek, on Times, on Le Monde.
You are the good ones. You recieve and hide toxic waste form all over the world, and from the Northern Italian factories. It's cheaper to fill Campania's soils with venoms than to put the waste in safe places. Who does gain from it? The Italian economy.
Dopo l’unificazione con l’Italia non siete più un popolo, siete lazzaroni, camorristi, feccia, cafoni. Voi che avete avuto Cuma e Capua migliaia di anni fa. La civiltà greca, quella etrusca, quella romana. Oggi siete prigionieri in casa vostra. Non sapete neppure più chi siete. Vi chiedo scusa per la Camorra, per Bassolino, per Veltroni, per Berlusconi, per la Iervolino, per Cirino Pomicino. Vi chiedo scusa per Mussolini, per il fascismo, per due guerre mondiali, per le leggi razziali, per le navi piene di emigranti. Scusa per aver ridotto una delle più belle città del mondo a uno spot pubblicitario della monnezza.
Tenímmoce accussí: ánema e core...nun ce lassammo cchiù, manco pe' n'ora... 'stu desiderio 'e te mme fa paura...
After the unification of Italy, you aren't a people anymore: you're gangsters, camorristi, mud, not-civilized. You, the same people who in the past had Cuma, and Capua. The Greek civilization, the Tuscanic, the Roman. Now you're prisoner in your very home. You don't know who you are.
I say sorry to you, fot the Camorra, for Bassolino, for Veltroni, for Berlusconi, for Iervolino, for Cirino Pomicino. I say you sorry for Mussolini, for the Fascism, for two world wars, for the racial laws, for the boats full of emigrants. Sorry, because your image in the world is no more of one of the most beautiful cities in the world but of a tv spot about garbage.
"Let's stay together like this: soul and heart... let's don't leave each other anymore, even for an hour... this desire of you fears me..."
Dall’altra parte dell’Adriatico un piccolo Stato è appena diventato indipendente. E’ il Kosovo, ha due milioni di abitanti. Voi siete sei milioni in Campania e chissà quanti milioni in giro per il mondo. Avete una storia millenaria. Lo Stato Italiano vi ha ridotto a un letamaio. Diventate kosovari. Fate un referendum per diventare indipendenti. Io appoggerò la vostra campagna. Proponete un plebiscito per il ritorno dei Borboni. Peggio di così non potete essere governati. Vi hanno tolto anche la parola. La lingua napoletana è stata riconosciuta dall’UNESCO, ma non dalle scuole italiane.
From the other side of Adriatic sea, a little country has already called its own indipendence. Is the Kosovo, it has two millions of inhabitants. You're millions in Campania anc who knows how many all over the world. You have a thousand years story. Italian government turned you in a pigpen. So, leave Italy and become Kosovari. Ask for a referendum to become indipendent. I'll be with you in this. Ask for the return of the Borboni: they can't do worse.
They didn't let you say a word, even if the Napoletano has been recognized as a language from UNESCO... but not from Italian schools.
La mozzarella di bufala non la mangia più nessuno. Hanno paura che sia radioattiva. La vostra agricoltura è in ginocchio. Dovete esportare i pomodori di nascosto. Stampare sulle scatole di conserva: “made in China” per contrabbandarle in Europa. Il Governatore del Veneto ha lanciato una campagna pubblicitaria in Germania. Per spiegare a tutti i tedeschi che il Veneto è diverso dalla Campania. Caorle è meglio di Ischia e di Capri. La civiltà si ferma sul Piave: una volta mormorava, adesso vomita il sindaco Gentilini.
Nobody wants to eat the mozzarella-cheese anymore: they fear it is radioactive. Your coltivation are in the worst state possible. You have to export tomatoes by blackmail, you have to put on the cans "Made in China" to smuggle them around Europe.
The Governor of Veneto started a Tv spot campain in Germany, to explain all Germans that Veneto is different from Campania. Caorle is better than Ischia and Capri.
The civilization stops on the Piave river. In a old patriotic song the river Piave whispered... now it does not whisper anymore: now it spews the major Gentilini.
La Campania è un laboratorio politico. Quello che succede qui succederà in tutta Italia. La distanza tra i cittadini e le istituzioni da voi non c’è più, hanno introdotto il manganello consapevole. Quello che colpisce a ragion veduta le donne e i vecchi con le braccia alzate a Pianura e a Savignano Irpino. Il manganello quasi consapevole del G8 di Genova, della Val di Susa, da voi si è evoluto, ha trovato una rappresentazione matura, più democratica.
Tenímmoce accussí: ánema e core...nun ce lassammo cchiù, manco pe' n'ora... 'stu desiderio 'e te mme fa paura...
Campania is a laboratory of poolitical experiments. Anything happens here, it will happen in the whole Italy. You have no more distance from politicians; they use self-conscious hard manners. The hits are well known in Pianura and in Savignano Irpino. The hard repression almost self-conscious of G8, in Val di Susa, in Campania has evolved in a more democratic and mature form.
"Let's stay together like this: soul and heart... let's don't leave each other anymore, even for an hour... this desire of you fears me..."
Scusa. Voglio chiedervi scusa per l’inceneritore di Acerra. Per l’Impregilo. Per i vostri politici scelti dai partiti nazionali. Per Veronesi che è capolista di Veltroni in Lombardia e ha tre anni in più di De Mita. Per Prodi che vuole regalarvi tre nuovi inceneritori. In Lombardia ci sono decine di inceneritori, le strade sono pulite, ma c’è una diffusione di tumori da far paura. Vi chiedo scusa per le malattie dovute ai rifiuti radioattivi sepolti nelle vostre terre senza che nessuna autorità abbia mosso un dito in vent’anni. Vi chiedo scusa per la diossina e le nanoparticelle da incenerimento che respirerete insieme al cancro.
Sorry. I want to say you sorry for the plant that burns the rubbish in Acerra. For the Impreglio. For your politicians, chosen by national parties. For Veronesi, who is the first man of Veltroni in Lombardia, and he is three years older than De Mita (who is not properly a youngster...). For Prodi, who wants to give you three new plants. In Lombardia, where there are ten and ten plants like this, the streets are clean, but there are also a lot people with cancer. I say you sorry for the hundreds of illnesses by the radioactive waste buried in your lands, without anybody doing anything for twenty years. I say you sorry for the diossin and for the burning clouds that you'll breath with the cancer.
Quante autorità avete pagato con le vostre tasse? Magistrati, ASL, amministratori pubblici, Regione, Province, Comuni, Comunità Montane, Polizia, Carabinieri, Guardie Forestali, Vigili del Fuoco, Polizia Municipale, Nettezza Urbana, deputati, senatori. Tutti nostri dipendenti. Quante migliaia di persone sono state stipendiate per salvarvi da questo disastro? Perché ci fosse Giustizia, per evitare questa Chernobyl della spazzatura? A cosa servono? Perché sono lì?
How many authorities did you pay with your taxes? Judges, lawyers, ASL, public administrators, Regione, Province, Comuni, Mountain isntitutions, Police, Carabinieri, Forestal rangers, Fire Fighters, Municipal Police, Street cleaners, deputees, senators. All them are our dependents. How many persons have been financed with taxes to AVOID this disaster? For Justice, for avoid this Chernobyl of the munnezza? For what? Why they are already there?
Il mondo guarda Napoli. Siete a un punto di non ritorno. Napoli è all’anno zero. Come Berlino nel 1945 dopo i bombardamenti. E’ un’occasione storica, unica per ripartire. Per una Rinascita Campana. Riprendete in mano il vostro passato, la vostra lingua e la vita dei vostri figli. Il vostro territorio. Se volete potete cambiare le cose. Nulla è impossibile per chi è nato qui. Quello che viene deciso a Roma non è importante, voi siete importanti. L’Italia di Beppe Grillo vi chiede scusa, l’altra Italia vi giudica e vi manganella. La Storia è passata di qui e ci tornerà presto. Però, dategli una mano.
Per un Nuovo Rinascimento.
Tenímmoce accussí: ánema e core...nun ce lassammo cchiù, manco pe' n'ora... 'stu desiderio 'e te mme fa paura..."
The whole world looks at Napoli. You're on the no-return point. Napoli is in its Zero year. Like Berlin in 1945, after the bombs. It's a storic opportunity, the one to start again. For a new birth for Campania. Take your past in your hands, your language and your sons' life. You land. If you want it, you can change things. Nothing is impossible for the ones born here. It's not important what is decidecd in Rome, YOU're important. Beppe Grillo's Italy sais sorry to you, while the other Italia judge you and hits you. History walked by your land and it'll be back soon. But give it a hand.
For a new Reinassance.
"Let's stay together like this: soul and heart... let's don't leave each other anymore, even for an hour... this desire of you fears me...">>
Dal Blog di Beppe Grillo
By Beppe Grillo's Blog
And now all people (out China) knows about Tibet. But Do you know why it's so important for the Chinese government. Not for religious things. In Tibet there are all Chinese nuclear missiles.
Now people are dying there, not for bullets, but for radiations.
Tibet has got a death sentence on its head...
Did you know all this?
Tuesday, 29. January 2008, 22:30:18
People say that past is always better than present... for me it's not true: it's all in our mind.
In the past we were children, younger, we had less experience and less knowlegdes about life and things, so, we use to remember that time as a pink and paradisiac period.
But it's not true. I remember everything about my past, not only the good things. I remember all the difficulties, all the illusions and the frustrations and disillusions... All the fights for little stupid things. I remeber when I won and also when I was defeated.
Golden age did never exist: it's all in your mind. There has been no Golden age. Un'Età dell'oro non è mai esistita!
Everythig chages, to remain the same.
This way of thinking made me more far from the real world than ever. Even my birth-place is extraneous to me... And by those times, it very easy to dislike my own home-land...
But I'm not sad. I'm only disappointed... better, I'm only indifferent.
My homeland ignores me, it threats its sons like slaves... so, I don't feel Italian, or something else... I feel like I'm stateless... I have no identity, even if my country is so rich of many different cultures.
Home is where I put my feet, and it'll be very hard to anyone to convince me to change my mind.
I'm not sad. I'm used not to have any roots. I have only my drawings, my stories, my dreams without a exit in the real world... I have only my books and my PC... I'm also nothing without my friends...
School did'n teach my anything useful to not be afraid of everything (my Maths teacher was a mad preacher, who used the last ten minutes of the lesson to explain numbers, and the rest of the hour to remember how we are unlucky, to live in a period like this, and remember us how many disasters will happen in the future; the Italian Literature teacher loved to tell us about gossips, not to teach us how to read properly a poem, and used to say she was almost God, telling us how we were stupid... not telling about the others!)...
I'm always afraid, but I have to go on... I have only to go on.
All I want is to live, everyday. I steal my life everyday...
Chaos powered transgenic Numero1 aka Hirpina81
Thursday, 11. January 2007, 22:51:37
My first stories were all drawings and so ‘primitive’; my first
written story is also very old: I was only ten when I started “Angel
Dust”.
This story does not speak about angels, dust or drugs with this
name (!!!): it was only my exercise-book cover, there was a little angel
on, and this name on him.
The story is about four children and their adventures. I invented them in
the summer of ’91, when we went to Pantelleria island, in the very south
of Sicily (if you have a map, you can barely notice this little piece of
earth, that’s nearer to Africa then to Italy).
The story starts here: a child, a 12 years old boy wants to prove his
stealing abilities, entering in a shop, and stealing everything.
He’s so young, but he’s a great thief too. He lives alone since he was
nine, and he doesn’t know his origins; his natural talent guarranteed
him to survive in the under-world of robbers and criminals.
Now he wants to ‘work’ alone.
He finds a pair of golden shoes, that transform him in a wizard, who can
do practically whatever he wants. Here, the little boy, Francesco, becomes
Scarpa d’Oro, that means Golden Shoe.
He’s naturally gifted, like Hudson Hawk.
The second most important character is a 7 years old boy. Savage, smart,
tough, smooth… he lives in the streets, stealing his own life everyday.
All people knows him with the name of Solo; it means Alone. He loves his
hard life, he does not know a different way of life. He’s the bravest of
the four, but also the youngest.
The girl of the group is Simona. She’s my own copy: she’s imaginative,
hard thinking, too much sensitive and strong, very strong for a little 10
years old girl; she’s got always crying crisis or real joyful
explosions, but she can also adjust herself to all circumstances. She
thinks she’s not brave, but she is…
The last one is a eight years old boy; he’s the opposite of Solo. He
seems a rich boy landed between them without a reason, ‘couse he’s
always well-dressed, very well-mannered and very wise for a kid. His name
is Lino (read ‘Leeno’ or Linus, if like).
All of them meet each other and their different destinys become one.
They meet also a boy; a very dark boy. He resambles a lot my first
impression of Knuckles (the only hint I had in that time was the
videogame-version). He has got a strange accent, almond-shaped black eyes,
long dark-blond hair; he escapes from his own country, Symilia, opposing
the Leader of his homeland. Symilia is something like Stalinian Russia and
Hitlerian Germany, and in this situation a 13 years old boy can only go
away.
His name is Romano (the name speaks about traditions and strenght), and
he’s always cool and a reserved person. The strongest of all characters,
he’s also the ‘wrong’ one: in a point of the storyline, he is forced to
betray his best friend, the wizard-thief Scarpa d’oro, to save his own
girl (an ante-litteram version of Julie-Su! But she's not a
worrior...)from the about-to-die
dictator.
He’s also very brave, he has got steel nerves and… oh yeah, wearin’
the magic Golden Shoes, becomes a dark version of himself. ^_^
We also know the secret about Francesco’s origins and his relations to
the Symilian country, expecially to its despotic leader…
Fights, great feelings, global war, love and death, recognitions and
childhood are the most important facts in this story, the longest one I
ever did.
Obviously, the kids are all orphans. When you’re a beginner, you start
with orphans or tellin’ about yourself, you know…
In my own web-page there are some pictures of them, but they aren’t part
of the story-line.
I started when I was ten, and finished when I was 19 years old. It’s a
childish story, I know, and I tried to maintain this feature, during all
this time.
I spent all my sundays and saturdays to read, write, re-read and correct
it. There are almost 120 pages… all hand-written and copied in digital
pages.
When I was 14 I invented a wizard school; it’s not a Hogwarts copy,
because J.K.Rowling in that time had not invented Harry Potter yet. And my
own version of magic mixed to school, is a version of Italian school…
and it happens Italian school is a mess.
The most important character is a girl named Megghi (read it like Maggie),
a little witch, who is too powerful, too childish, too reserved, too
insicure… and nobody understands her; the only one who seems to
understand her, uses her to conquer the city, using her powers and
enslaving her.
When the old wizards and teachers come to save her, they find that she
freed herself, and now she’s taking her own revenge… so the wizards
don’t attack her taskmaster, but her…
Frustration, soul-pain, loneliness, teenage-thinking and adolescence are
the most important things in this story. It’s autobiographic, you
know… it’s not my best work. But it’s a sorta of diary.
Lot of people around web say that my best story is “Aika”.
In a strange world, like a medieval one and 1930s one mixed together,
lives a girl.
Today it’s her 18th birthday, and she has to decide her own
way: she could become a ‘lover’, like all other girls (they don’t
work, but they have to produce sons… there aren’t any families or
marriages…), or become a servant, passing herself to a man, so she can
study and search for the real Love.
In this strange world, girls have rights only doing whatever men want. But
Aika knows she’s different: her parents are married, they haven’t
other partners out of the couple, they love each other and her brothers
and sisters.
So she decides to ‘become’ a boy; she changes her attire, her name,
her age, and, in the middle of the night, like a thief, she abandons her
home to this new
life.
She becomes the favorite servant for the Lord of the castle where she
works, the Duke… but a woman betrays her, and Aika (not a woman, no more
a man) loses all her rights…
But the story well-ends when she meets an artist, a painter, Lucano, the
Lord’s portraitist, who tells her his family was the first owner of the
castle. She ears the word ‘family’ and she knows she has found
something very precious…
They go away from the castle, and the Duke keeps a paint: Lucano had
painted Aika, in her boy-attire, and finds himself longing for her… but
it’s too late: she’s gone.