The sky was a purple stain, his brilliance was incredibly sharp, was lost to the hills, spreading over diverse in huge tentacles of jellyfish, in flounce of quirky clothes, covered with veils streaked precious stones that reflect light. And the hills were blacks clusters, enormous beached mastodons, giant sperm whales stranded in the country: roads meandered here and there that you would have said to have been designed with electrical wires or strings of the big white. The campaign then was a series of plots that were thinking about a painting by Mondrian, few farmers and machinery stood out among a large group of Scarecrow from the queer posture, adorned with huge hats and big scarves fluttering. Above them flew large tin crows, flapping his wings with a creak of the vane.
Professor Tobias looked at me Buzzetti admired: he could not hide a hint of complacency, I could read the pride and the pride in the bright eyes, the smile that she could not suppress. When he finally spoke, waking from the vision, I understood: "What you see is not. This room is just the extreme offshoot of a huge machine that generates dreams and illusions. Does nothing more than tap into our subconscious and mix everything, creating universes that are made from dreams, memories and fantasies of those who come to pass in this place. The crows of iron, for example, are one of my childhood memory: I had seen a move in a spring showcase of Ortisei when I was six or seven years. I know exactly who was one autumn evening sky with the strange colors. " The tentacles of jellyfish so they were mine, got stuck in some part of my neurons, tangled in the synapses. The large jellyfish on the beach of Gabicce, a chandelier from which came those milky colored ribbons. I would have liked to meet the technical ol'operaio that led Mondrian in that group: I would have gladly talked about art with a drink in the cafeteria.
"Do not is everything, "said Professor Buzzetti: in fact we are also testing of the variants. He pressed a button on the remote control in his hand. "Well, now you hide a piece. A piece of your subconscious, I mean. " I looked, but nothing seemed changed in that scene. But I had the impression that someone hid a piece, as if the missing piece of a puzzle and just one pass was necessary to reveal the whole secret. Or rather, I felt that the card was there but was hidden from my eyes. That is, had failed its the only fragment that gave direction to the rest. The vision for the rest was unchanged: the purple sky, jellyfish, fields of Mondrian, the scarecrow, the hills, the crows ... The universe, however, was altered: looking more closely, the peasants wore white masks with large Bautte, the streets had become the deep cuts in the skin of sperm whales, the sky had taken on a tint more bloody. As if the axis on which all that universe had turned virtual or fictitious tilted a few degrees, or if the rotation had imperceptibly slowed or accelerated in order to change even slightly, however the details. Then I realized: "You are hiding a piece" that showed, not only my subconscious, but that of all those who go to make that vision. The hidden piece, the keystone, took away the peace I had felt in front of the breathtaking scenery adds a thin veneer of concern, if only for that secret is not revealed, the element capable of changing things unspoken.
"The memory handlers, in this case is not" explained Tobias Buzzetti, "that is modified and assumes a different value, you lose the characteristic that made him remember it, with that intense emotion, with that passionate tenderness. Look at the crows, now ... "I looked. Crows mechanical childhood Tobia Buzzetti now had a flap on the belly from time to time the opening dotted with small bombs that fell on the roar contain scarecrow creating an ironic retribution. And my jellyfish? Looked better: the sky was turned red because they had large tentacles long, strong spines, like those of the acacia trees, and tore the sky with those surging as a shield.
"The machine is able to calculate virtually direct our thoughts, to process the memories and place them within the scenario: they change and rearranges them according to the billions of combinations that are accessed," said the professor. "Regulate even chaos," I said, painting and drawing and I saw that smirk on his face that just could not hide. Still pressed a button on the remote control in front of me now opened up a huge maze. "Let's try another function," he said, "The wire is to quit you ..." When I found myself in the dark, I began to curse Tobia Buzzetti, then his eyes became accustomed little by little, I understood what the teacher wanted with the words "The thread is to quit you ..." Marta smile when I saw the splendor of its sixteen. Tobias had given me an exciting journey into the territories of my youth: to exit, simply had to recognize my mistakes and not commit them again.
Checkered Zebra, "Dream Machine"
0 comments:
Post a Comment