Abstract: the article was published on the website of Bikeride.it, the style is very "strong", "hard" at times, but read it with care and passion e. ..... understand.
What is an edge of the road? The side of the road!
And then? The place beyond the asphalt and side of guardrail. And then? The place where one day the car left me on foot. And then? The place to bring billboards. If only for once, without a reason, you stop the car by the roadside, not because you heard a strange noise coming from the bonnet or because you have to pee or because they drive so well that the child is sick, and not because there's a fantastic panorama. If I tried, so, for no reason, to escape from the comfortable self-propelled cage bought in installments. But not at a pitch stops, they do it all and all for leaving a trace. If you'd stop right where would not occur to anyone. But not when you're on vacation and you have nothing to do, then you're not quite yourself, and you're not angry enough, you would not be critical even on your mother-in-law. Stop when you get to work, one day you're late, in that place that you know what you think as you walk, do not you know what, you do not know why, but this place makes you think. Stop. Get out. Alive. 'll see that the edge of road I walk every single day is not a wall of silent theater and odorless. In fact, he knows the earth and asphalt, shit and combustion gases. Not surprised, no, rather annoyed. Do not go back in the car, hold on, even if you late and the shirt will not stick on him, give up your captive for a few minutes. Try breathing without pollen filter, quiet, air circulation does not tarnish the windows, breathe. You hear a dog barking in the distance do you think they will soon be to attack and that is the only living thing within a radius of 3 km. Poor deluded , know that there are 37 lizards, snakes and a pair of a whole family of hedgehogs country looking your every move, not to mention a one thousand dung flies, bees terricolous, bugs hay and horse flies, and, lucky for you, spineless as you are, none of these horrible beasts can be dangerous. But you, evolved animal, you can only see the colony of plastic bags that inhabit the natural vegetation. Meanwhile dog approached and looks at you. Tail straight, one ear cocked, and the other floppy. Now jumping on their front legs out straight . Do not ask why you're there, wait, is not the time. Try to take some steps along the roadside , try looking at the world through the eyes of that dog. Here it is, the roar is strong, threatening, bully, it's just a small car but at 100 times frightening. There is a hole in the tire assist in snapping a whip asphalt and moving the earth, you are hit by a heavy breath, from a human cold, scorching heat, chemically poisonous. Note that a heavy steel box in his trudge against nature on a flat ribbon of bitumen to art from other animals like you, evolved, and you will feel ashamed. One hundred meters ahead is a dead dog of medium size swells rot looks like a bagpipe, a little further if they guess another, older, reduced to a doormat. Are traces of a war fought every day, everywhere, without reports, without echoes, without deaths or injuries that are worthy of note. The motive is still the same, the claim of possession of a territory, right to exploitation and occupation. That's a road made by men for us to run their boxes iron. It 's so for a century and so it will be for eternity. You notice that the carpet along the edges of asphalt is corroded, perforated by grass and flowers, attacked by the slow but inexorable nature of metabolism that, spite of our conservative nature, places an end to every thing in order to perpetuate itself. The end is eternity, however, only seen in a different, less individualistic, in a broader context and harmonious, more natural.
So. What is an edge of the road? A limit, a boundary line, a trench. And then? A garbage dump, a landfill open, a latrine, a mass grave. And then? It 's a lane that is not there, it is best reserved for those who scansino, the slow, those that are not keeping pace, the nerds, the people on the margins, the street people who do not even is the master of that.
And then? You can find us stray animals, stray souls, poor bastards who like sweat, breathe and be touched by the miasma racing cars. Risk and then complain, like the one in miniskirts who was raped, I looked for the six, who are you complaining about? And then? Can you find a damaged car, damaged people, girls who are selling the illusion of a man to enjoy while you rent for three minutes on a pig.
And then? Next, what edge of a road? It 's the true boundary between the human being and mother nature, the place to relegate the world and at the same time , the threshold of our ghetto, a long strip of Gaza from here to Pluto.
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