Rivista Anarchica Online

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Why Italy sucks

by Giorgio Barberis

All is not lost, however it is worth fighting.

We start from the beginning, ie from the title of this brief reflection. Excessive? Provocative? Maybe. But I find myself inß it a lot. And do not think I'm the only one.
Difficult to envisage a more gloomy scenario. Also difficult to choose which meanness focus, as the catalog is endless. We want to talk of Cossiga, celebrated apologist of the square massacre, dead with his pickaxe and his mysteries, or should we instead on the intricate steps of eternal crisis of governance? On holiday in Monte Carlo of the so-called moralizing or about the childish brat of those summer games that constitute the General Staff of the Northern League? A very strange country, ours.
For days the rivers of ink stigmatize the launch of a torch to a union leader, in what once was conceived as Labor Day. But few are questioning the underlying reason for this gesture. And fewer still are those who are surprised to see that same party manned by hundreds of policemen. Meanwhile, the Marchionne doctrine has set a trend, the new prophet of social devastation, destroying in a flash rights earned by decades of struggle, and in addition has the temerity to invoke "the end of the conflict between employers and employees." Easy to say for those who earn at least five hundred times more than those below, and maybe even feel compelled to thank for the few crumbs that come. A Quaquaraquà that by fortune seats in parliament loyal Pasdaran of Berlusconi arrives to say that it is fair to prostitute themselves for a political career. While the sultan satirizes undisturbed, with peace of a known right now to be bigoted when it comes to defending the sacred traditional family values, now libertine, when the privileges of power are concerned , more than ever, above everything. And we libertarians in check by what right dare to protest, since the freedom of the individual is indisputable principle? Are we now the moralists? So here we are served the worst mignottocrazie, with the backing of an outrageous mass conformism, aphasia and the gradual reduction of those who are still capable of some form of critical thinking. Moreover, the few who try to do something in the right direction are quickly taken away, as happened to the mayor of Pollica, and I fear will happen in the future to many people of good will.
With increasingly smaller spaces to a different policy slapped by turbobipolarismi media, the search for saving men of destiny, the gossip and meanness of a press prone to tickle the itching bored petty-bourgeois audiences. While you reopen the hunt for the Roma, the green shirts do not care even more to veil their disgusting racism, and almost nobody has the strength or space to say that the excesses are always counter-security-first, that the appalling inequalities that we take away dignity and breathing are not a natural fact, and that, as love often remember quoting Balzac, resignation is a daily suicide.
Only a few small hole can be seen here and there. Some shred of free thought and action of genuine solidarity, a sign that all is not lost. That it is still worth fighting for. Let us hold tightly the cry, the anger, the search for a full share, the need to find a way, along with others, along with all the people who have inside the same unfailing thirst for justice and truth. The expatriation it's not the only way we have left!


Fabrizio i leskero ovi rom

ot Giorgio Bezzecchi

Prengjargjum Fabrizio po jek dive silalo i suslo, sar vajk andu Milano, angle ot Camera del Lavoro, po stighe kaj pe gjal andre.
Hine urado kun roba ot sena, jek roba kali i retikani, i civlepe sukar vasu keri slike, vasu “Anime salve”. hari ala i hari tempo,phenu ke lako keru,po romane “khorakhane”. Gjav nasat po ufficio kun gagjo so keri manza buti, Maurizio Pagani, kaj alo manza i pheni manghe ke hilo sukar kaj ov vakeri vasu roma.
Andu ufficio citinu lil so pisini po romane, i vale sunu giso, suno buth ricja, tinanupe. Posle savo dive jku pal Fabrizio andu leskero studjo, sukar vakeri manza, lacjo gagjo, vakeri sukar vasu roma, prengjari romen, vakeri vasu roma sar jek cjacjo rom, sar na sungjum vakeri vasu roma nindar ot kada keru buti sar Esperto di Etnie Nomadi. Gjav avri i sunupe sar ti vakergjum kun jek baro rom, ke na sungjum nindar, ma so phurane manghe da tiknoro vekerne.
Fabrizio hine prjatli ot roma i ot kon hine pase lende ot dugo.kame mislini kaj po svecer po presentazjone ot “Anime salve”, Fabrizio kangja mande i Maurizio Pagani po hal svecer kaj hine buth importanti gene. Meni i Maurizio, sakon po rici so murinle keri vasu “Khorakhane” , besame po jek rik i misliname samo vasu hal i pii, gage po mende jkene buth, Fabrizio i Dori prastene vajk gi mende, ame hame i na jkame po gage. Fabrizio hine gjoke, skivo, mislinave meni, saj su dova leske injeme milo,na pe kerame phare. Hine jek rici ke kerame samo me i Fabrizio, persu Maurizio, kada pe alacjame vasu keri po romane “Khorakhane”, pjame lace.
I onda na ascjovave leske palan........

Fabrizio and his being Roma

I met Fabrice in a cold, wet day, as is common in Milan, in front of the Chamber of Labour, on the front steps.
He was dressed in costumes, a dark and formal suit intent to assume postures suitable for the production of photographs, probably, for "Anime Salve". A little time and few words, I confirm my availability for the proposed assignment, I will translate into Roman Chib his song, "Khorakhane". Back to the office with my colleague, Maurizio Pagani, who accompanied me and took part in the meeting with Fabrizio, I highlighted the importance of attention shown to the stigmatized people, the Roma, by Fabrizio.
In the office I read the text to be translated and now "feel" out by the strength and particular anger attention unique in the words, suffering and apartheid in the atmosphere, feelings and instincts make me shudder. A few days later I see Fabrizio in his study, a special attention towards me, "spoils" me and speaks of the Roma is an informed one, knows in detail the rom, I realized they were facing a well of culture and I feel drawn into a discussion on Roma at a level I never felt in my long career of Expert on nomadic ethnic groups. I exit the encounter with the feeling of having discussed with a rom baro, a wise man, which I never had the pleasure of meeting, including the elderly Roma who spoke to me as a child.
Fabrizio was a friend of the Roma but also of those who stood for a long time near them. I want to remember that on the evening of the presentation in Milan of "Anime Salve", Fabrizio and Maurizio Pagani invited me to a dinner attended by many personalities of the world of culture and music. Me and Maurizio, which had followed each of its part the task that Fabrizio gave me for the translation of "Khorakhanè, sat on the sidelines more actually devoting to food and beverages stored on the table than to the furtive glances from slipping table to table. Fabrizio and Dori so, more than once sat down to chat with us at our table, and so, soon we found ourselves, against our will, at the center of attention, without neglecting our commitment to the delicious dishes that continued to be deposited in front of us.
Fabrizio was so, shy by nature, or so it seemed to me and perhaps that had somehow come close to us that we did not try to impose our presence a bit ', as then, it happened to all Roma. However, there was one thing that united not only me and Fabrizio and Maurizio, the long meetings and talks that preceded or followed the requests for translations of Khorakhanè or of knowledge of "my" world that is, the sweet drinks.
And at that time even I did not stay back ...

(translation from romanès by Giorgio Bezzecchi)



«Mussolini is a bucaiolo
who sends people
to bed without dinner ...»*

by Giorgio Sacchetti

Think deep essence of anarchist anti-fascism defined by Errico Malatesta.

From existential popular antifascism to that of action, from antagonism to the social network conspiracy, culture and sociability to the libertarian than imprisonment, exile, the exile and persecution: the Italian anarchists who fought the thirty-year civil war by the European positions of the front row. "Insusceptible of repentance" in the words of the grand title of the biography of Alfonso Failla; desperate players in business and shared with Gino Lucetti, Michele Schirru and Angelo Sbardellotto; among the first to rush to arms in Spain in '36, to participate in ' Last Revolution. Arditi del Popolo in 1921-'22 and partisans in 1943-'45: Two experiences of armed struggle from the opposite results in part similar to ideal matrix, a common core of Risorgimento / insurgency / veterans inspiration every time serves as a container for a plurality of social and political components; anarchists are part of this, one of many, independent original and in the first case, decisive.
And there is also a valuable theoretical contribution to preserve an original perspective on the interpretation of fascism outlined in real time. Lasting well beyond the incredible luck of the historiographical concept of "preventive counter-revolution" was coined by Luigi Fabbri. Think of the deep essence of anarchist anti-fascism defined by Errico Malatesta ('Umanita Nova, Sept. 8, 1921, Civil War):

... Whatever the barbarity of the other, it is for us anarchists, and all of us men of progress, keeping the fight within the limits of humanity, that is, never do, on violence, more than what is strictly necessary to defend our freedom and to secure the victory of our cause, that is the cause of the common good ...
Consider the contribution of that libertarian historiographical trend that only recently was able to exploit. For example, the "Mussolini poached" by Armando Borghi ("Mussolini Red and Black") was one of the few books through which the other Italy, the minority, could be known in the United States. It was a way to open your eyes to a community that had been removed meaning and memory of the story of Sacco and Vanzetti, a book on the mood of the "deported peoples", namely that the Italians are on track to become post-Fascists. Also the analysis of Camillo Berneri and, later, by Pier Carlo Masini, militants and witnesses outstanding scholars of their age, are attributable to the same canon of interpretation. Their calculations have in common for the original multi-disciplinary approach to an attempt to understand the personality of the dictator out of the box, exclusive of the narrow ideological categories (the psychological berneriana insight it is a clear proof).

* Prefecture of Florence, in January 1942, warning decision causal against Cesare Parenti, anarchist laborer, born in 1887 in Brozzi (Tuscany), resident. Source ACS, CPC, file 3731.



Free radios
and market logic

by Giucas Falchetto – Patchinko (Radio Bandita)

The short season of free radios ended with their progressive adaptation to the market logic.

Few phenomena testify to the desire for emancipation of a whole generation such as the explosion of radios of the '70s. Minimum equipment, your own voice and then some record were enough to pass on a limited territorial basis, often to your neighborhood or apartment building, in complete freedom. Being able to communicate without compromise, to choose their own sources of information, after decades of state monopoly, was a Copernican revolution that within a short time changed the face of the media. Attempts by the government to limit the damage, trying in vain to seize the first broadcasters, met with a vague and incomplete legislation, in which it was not hard to find loopholes. It was the charge of incitement to terrorism that it was necessary in 1977 to close, militarily, the Bolognese Radio Alice, perhaps the most free (and therefore dangerous) free radio: no editorial office, no limitation to what you might say or do on the air.
The short season of free radios, however, ended with their gradual adaptation to the market logic. Private investors sensed the potential of the new entity and free radios became "private radio stations." Within a few years only one industry group (Berlusconi's Fininvest, ça va sans dire) became the undisputed master of a real broadcasting oligopoly. Mammi Law of 1990 decreed that situation by imposing rules are tailored to grown-up private radio stations, which launched the hoarding of frequencies. Today it is not possible to give life to a radio station over the air without having large amounts of capital, unless you illegally occupy a frequency. Some of these historical experiences have endured and continue to transmit, for example, Radio Popolare in Milan, Radio Onda d'Urto in Brescia, Radio Onda Rossa in Rome, etc..
It was the hacker community and media activists to realize that the experience of free radio stations could continue through the internet. To create a Web Radio what you need is a PC and a headset, a standard Internet connection and some technical knowledge. The advantage over the past is an opportunity to be heard on the other side of the world, although the number of contacts is limited to the available bandwidth and usage of the PC is not as widespread as that of traditional radio. In Italy, the first is Radio Cybernet from Catania, in 1997, followed shortly thereafter by many other volunteer experiences and the first commercial radios.
But it is after the protests in Seattle and then in Genoa (radio GAP) that the phenomenon is expanding, that it was libertarian collectives, as in the case of Radio Bandita, cultural agitators (S8 Radio, Radio Owatta) or even impromptu experiences personal and naive they were the radios of the new millennium.


I have a dream

by Lalli

Recent years seem to me one day shade.

August 28, 1963
Pieces of paper flying,
empty tins,
a sheet
annotated with a few verses of a song,
raised, together with the dust,
by the warm wind from the dusk,
a straw, bread,
an embroidered handkerchief,
nothing else,
of that sea of people,
that stayed there,
to listen to the man who had called them
to tell a dream,
"... Sitting at the same table,
and eating, all together ... "
just like on that sea of grass that day
Where have gone all the flowers,
glasses, hats,
sweat shirts,
rumpled skirts,
discolored shoes
the soles wear out,
torn uniforms,
the voices, the songs.
Me, babe,
I run to buy the book,
short socks,
the heat that brakes on my face.
I was eleven years old and I sat there at the top, at a precise point on the "shore", watching the lights of Asti that the breeze of harvest time and the approach of night did shine, shine, and then nothing, and then again. Lights in pain, like me, who seemed a string of pearls around his neck of the horizon.
In Turin, a different time, a time of industrial presence.
One afternoon in the IA will catapult a guy, blondish hair and hands of a pianist, as beautiful as the sun. He says to quit, that the school is occupied, it was decided by the Assembly in the morning, permanent collectives.
Finally! The city turns and begins to flow with the river. Huge avenues and courses to be known, in the cold and the sun, where walking with all our brothers and sisters of the world. Here, a lack less, a city more round, like a hill, and green and red, such as colors and at home I like best, those of autumn.
A slow and strong tide, a silence in the days to go, a smiling and powerful tide that will take the heart and emotion of the eyes, with the steps there in the middle of the road and head and body are all already in the near future. "We are now faced with the fact that tomorrow is already today ..."
It took me years to learn to walk again on the sidewalks.
Then, the music. Singing, about me and about country that become invisible, silent and remote. Here, another no less, sounds, words and poetry to blow through his teeth, danced in the streets, roads, bars, theaters, community centers, ARCI circles, bowling, universities, for Palestine and the former Yugoslavia, against racism, torture, the death penalty, for buying wheelchairs, adopt a child from a distance, and away and away. But it is the place of singing in that one place where I feel truly free and at home, the country to which to return no ruts to cross.
These recent years seem to me one day and shadow, nevertheless, a long day eagle, which is still with us to find a house, work, love.
The presidents, politicians, think that the land, animals and people are their property, but our souls are alert and open, even if injured.
Then, another time again, and the memory of a eagle day may be right over the violence, bullying, injustice, jails and wars.

And, as if by magic,
here they are back there, all the flowers,
glasses, hats,
sweat shirts,
rumpled skirts,
discolored shoes
the soles wear out,
torn uniforms,
the voices, the songs.



The gauntlet of power

by Lorenzo Guadagnucci

Today we know everything about those violence of police.

It all began a few months earlier, in January 2001 in Porto Alegre, with the first World Social Forum. Or maybe two years before, in November 1999 with the challenge of the WTO in Seattle. The most authentic source, however, may date back to January 1, 1994, the day of the Zapatista uprising in Chiapas. Some go even further back, to 1992, with demonstrations against the fifth centenary of the "breakthrough that did not discover America" (as defined by Eduardo Galeano).
However, in Genoa in July 2001 social movements and individuals gave appointment and came from around the world, moved to a radically alternative to the one dominant for decades. They demanded the cancellation of the debt imposed on the countries of the South, denouncing finance based economy and the unbearable predation of natural resources, they wanted to proclaim water as a common good, indicating the right of people to move from one country to another. They denied all legitimacy, both formal and moral, to the summit called G8.
But on Genoa dropped the gauntlet of power. For decades, Europe has not been seen in a police action as brutal and blatant. It was a matter to criminalize a booming movement. It was necessary to put out its own ideas, just dismissed them as an expression of thugs and sterile extremist. This operation was successful. The movement has been criminalized and disparaged in the delicate phase of its popular roots.
Today we know all about the violence of police. He a trial for the murder of Carlo Giuliani was denied, but in the court of Genoa a historical event happened: the condemnation of over 70 agents for the violence in the Diaz school in the barracks-prison of Bolzaneto. Among those convicted are included high police officials, even the leader of the Anticrimine and the coordinator of intelligence services. The judiciary had never reached so high.
But nothing has changed. The political power of the moment - the parliamentary majority and the opposition together - confirmed full confidence in executives convicted, denying the same ethical canons of liberal democracies. In the end, the scales are the incredible "exemplary sentences" to a handful of protesters accused no less than "devastation and looting", a crime with a minimum penalty of eight years. It is the "price" paid, cynically say in court, to the trials of policemen. It is the lowest point reached by the Italian democracy in recent years.

Genova, July 2001


A massacre
Forty years long

by Luciano Lanza

The figures of Pinelli and Valpreda: if not "A", who should remember them?

February 1971
Milan a year later
(Photo report on the clashes between police and demonstrators in Milan December 12, 1970)

Aunt Rachel
Interview with the main witness for the excuse of Valpreda

So you are an anarchist terrorist
The process will begin on March 22 against fellow Braschi, Della Savia, Faccioli, Pulsinelli

The Anarchist Black Cross
The state against Valpreda

Interview with the lawyer Calvi

Valpreda is innocent
The investigation against Valpreda is not just essentially absurd, politically crazy and legally inconsistent, but also formally contradictory and illogical

The defendants accused
While the paper goes in print, the trial of the anarchists is becoming, as it should be, the process from the anarchists and the castle of accusations made by the court Amati is falling: the police "do not remember," the watchman does not recognize Pulsinelli, the police "Super-witness" is exposed as slanderous and mythomaniac relapse ...

After two years of preventive detention
Out of all the comrades

At the Milan Assize an ambiguous sentence that implies the innocence of the accused, condemns the three, it absolves three and releases them all
Prepared by the fascists of Treviso, 1969 attacks?
Neo-Nazis arrested in Ventura, Freda and Trinco "for subversive activity, because involved in fact in the fascist attacks of 1969 attributed to the usual anarchists

"We did not kill him"
The recusal of the judge Biotti and the complaint of murder lodged by the widow Pinelli reported on the front pages of newspapers in the case of the anarchist railway worker

Helping Valpreda

Valpreda is innocent free Valpreda

"Democratic" Archiving of Pinelli case (Bianchi d'Espinosa management) is stupidly hampered by the rash actions of the lawyer Lener (called by colleagues ''o picciotto" that is the mafioso), defender of the commissioner Calabresi

The massacre continues
Also the lawyer Ambrosini is "Suicided"

Notice of the offense for the killers of Pinelli

The parliamentary left, having contracted for two years with the owners his acquiescence, is now ready to use also the process Valpreda for his power plays

December 1971-January 1972
Impeach the state
During the campaign of the preparatory process for the massacre of the state, Milanese anarchists have made two important events: a gathering at the Teatro Lirico on December 4 and a presence in the square and in districts on December 12. A witness to the fight in front of police headquarters on December 15

Valpreda is innocent free Valpreda
talks the latest fugitive

Interview with Enrico Di Cola: "The police threatened me with death, they wanted me to accuse Valpreda"

These are the titles of the first year of A magazine anarchist bombs that marked the 1969 April 25, August 9, Dec. 12. Bombs that have changed the course of Italian history and, in the small, the life of the young (then) that gave birth to the magazine. In each issue of A is at least one article. And A is reports on the massacre of the state and on the two previous incidents with a cut so unusual in the anarchist movement. The first issue starts with an interview with the aunt of Peter Valpreda important witness for the alibi of Valpreda and that judges will attempt to intimidate, confuse ... to no avail. After, a few numbers later, to interview the defense lawyer of Valpreda, Guido Calvi. The interviews are not, of course, new journalism, but they are for the anarchist publications in those years.
And if the first three years of A are "necessarily" marked by a continuous presence for the release of Peter Valpreda and the other comrades of the club March 22 of Rome after the liberation, on December 30, 1972, of Valpreda, Roberto Gargamelli and Emilio Borghese, attention is not reduced. The magazine insists on the murder of Giuseppe Pinelli, denies the various official versions, highlights the contradictions of the ruling of the judge Gerardo D'Ambrosio that produces the famous and ridiculously macabre theory 'of active illness" of Giuseppe Pinelli. So, in 1975 a judge considered to be on the left (and you should always remember riding on the story and blackmail Piazza Fontana of the PCI) saves, from a legal point of view only, goat and cabbage: Pinelli did not commit suicide and the police, Luigi Calabresi in the head, they are not guilty.
And scrolling through all the years of A we understand how much attention is devoted to the "state massacre" especially when the passage of time dims the figure of Giuseppe Pinelli and Pietro Valpreda. Necessary because the attacks took attention from politicians, secret services, apparatuses important of the state have laid bare "the crimimality of power." And if this does not put it in a clear an anarchist magazine who will do it?




Small archives are growing

by Luigi Balsamini

It grew up in the anarchist movement the awareness of the conservation of its memory.

Since the seventies grew up in the anarchist movement the sensitivity to the preservation of his memory. This is not so much for the spirit of antiques and collectibles, but the awareness that memory, helping to trace the history of anti-authoritarian struggles and the attempts of liberation from exploitation, also helps to recognize and build their own political identity.
Since then he has seen the emergence of institutions that are dedicated to the protection and enhancement of the cards of the movement. These centers were soon found to address the difficulties associated with the vicissitudes of promoting groups: some have disappeared in the ebb of the eighties, others survived until recent times, others are still active today and growing. A distinction, indeed not very clear, you can draw between institutions active participants of those events of which they collect evidence, which exist primarily as laboratories of political activity in militant size, and others who have gained over the years instead of a scientific vocation and, far from use a priority within the group, are offering a public service, freely accessible to all, open to discussion and valid professionally managed criteria.
The current Italian scene has characteristics of high brightness, thanks to archives, libraries and documentation centers spread across much of the territory, although unfortunately not yet interconnected by solid cooperative strategies (for a description of the main institutions see the dossier on " A, No. 351). All move in two directions, combining two closely related aspects: to develop a critical awareness of its past and act as a stimulus for the present. The preservation of historical memory is in fact only the first time of cultural elaboration, because if it is true that the collection of evidence helps to transcend the fragility of human memory, the documents would remain silent if they were not revised, updated and placed on a horizon of contemporary sense. With the foresight that this work does not result in abstracting the object from the context, that is isolating anarchism, and its documentary traces, from the historical and social complexity in which it is immersed.
Recently, in some cases for several years, these centers have set the offer of a real library and archive service, making available to their users an integrated set of resources and expertise. Have extended opening hours to the public, signed agreements with local authorities, initiated an inventory of assets and the cataloging of bibliographic held according to international standards, sharing data within the National Library Service or in other catalogs. The continuous presence of these structures, rooted in the social fabric and interest aroused by their cultural offerings, is likely evidence that there is a widespread level of attention to the ideas of libertarian sign, from a much wider scope than the narrow circle of "militants".


Those were years of vinyl
and magnetic tape

by Marco Pandin

To tell stories today seem more time: the fixed place, the grass planted in the garden behind the house, Auto Reduction to the concerts, ...

It was thanks to Elis that I read the A / Magazine. It was on display in the window of Utopia 2, a small anarchist Venetian bookstore where you did not need the excuse of sudden showers to find refuge on the road between Piazzale Roma and the university.
It was November 1976, nineteen years by one month, former head nestled in an inexplicable feeling of impatience with words for so-called normal things, those deemed most appropriate for kids my age were reading the music or the resignation or for barracks. I played in a band that did some stuff just strange and indefinable, and hang out some time in a free radio. I liked Area and Stormy Six, Henry Cow, and John Fahey, that most of my friends were sick of. I just went crazy for Beat poets and the Antologia of Spoon River, when the readings that were the most popular were Tex and Zagor and Lotta Continua and the Daily Worker. At the visit of army service, unique among all my friends and classmates, I had filed a declaration of conscientious objection that caused me many troubles.
I was nineteen, I said. Mestre and Marghera and Venice were tight on me, and I wanted for my life constantly on the go, no matter where: Salento, London, Cape North, California, or the doors of the cosmos that are up in Germany. But I left the university after a year and only five exams because I had no money and I did not have the courage to ask my parents, so I went to work. I did a bit 'of everything from factory worker to the messenger around without time, the cashier in a supermarket. One day I have to attend a course: four months in Milan and Rome, if you take steps in the selection test and then you if are right they give you a permanent job. In today seem to tell stories of the past: the fixed place, the grass planted in the garden behind the house, the Auto Reduction in concerts, demonstrations with flags all around you where there were other boys, by the thousands. Along with screaming, laughing, making noise. Years were slow, with no phones, no internet, no money. The television we did not look at almost never: Life was on the street, in the square. Those were years of vinyl and magnetic tape. Years of stencils and fast writings on walls with spray, theater and precarious scratch concerts.
Then there was punk, and punk with the notice that some ideas could be unpacked in your head even if you live among the gray apartment blocks and the sick grass on the outskirts of the empire, even if you were forced to hide for most of your creativity behind the day overall. I stopped playing and I put together a zine, then a small independent record label.
My fuel was the curiosity, my difficulty in keeping balance between a desire to be part of something infinite and the continuing need to assert my independence and my freedom. I wanted to do so much. I fell in love, I started a family. I have traveled a little, unless we begin to count the daily commute mileage. I listened to lots of music, unfortunately a lot less than I desired, and since 1984 I have the opportunity to share and discuss it with the readers of A.
I wanted to fill this page of names, tell all the handshakes and hugs all these years, the meetings that there have been on the pretext of this newspaper. But it is a little 'how to have drawn a line in the palm of the hand of fate that suddenly change direction. It always happens, even now. I wanted to tell you about Franti and Crass, Chinese anarchists and fellow comrades from Friuli, the Backdoor of Turin and the CSC of Schio, evenings in the poor company of Fabio Santin, Roberto Bartoli and Alessio Lega. I wanted to tell a good story. But I can barely hold a mountain of absences that is crumbling on me.
Last night he called me an old English friend, I'm going to see him soon with my daughter. I'm thinking to start playing again..

All Translations by Enrico Massetti ("The other Fabrizio" + "Pinelli-Piazza Fontana")