traitor and thief of dreams. I know who is behind the papers accuse Fini. I know who inspires them, I know the customer. Not involved at all with the Palazzo Chigi, the secret services, the government of Santa Lucia. He is a boy of fifteen he joined the Young Italy. He dreamed of a better Italy, loved the tradition since the rebellion, he hated the arrogance of the protesters as much as the cowardice of the moderates, and sat in the wrong, for bitter taste of freedom. He wore the tricolor flag in the square, is excited by stories ancient and fiery speeches, thought that the curse could only tell the truth.
That boy together with other peers and established a section each month to pay for the collection were thirteen thousand pounds in rent, plus the cost of electricity, and water activities. Tax themselves from their pocket money but it was only a down payment, they were willing to give their lives. The boy had won a rich scholarship of 150 thousand pounds a year well and decided to spend it all to buy a press section and so pursue his passion for politics and even print. He spent whole days by militant, write, print and distribute leaflets. And with him his inseparable companions, Precchia, Martimeo the Canemorto, and others. School policy afternoon, evening, leaflets, posters at night, risk of beatings and sometimes pilgrimages in search of purity with tricolor and neckerchief. There were thousands of guys like him. There were some who lost their lives, a thirty I think, but does not remember their names; bothered him recall their names in the elections to wrest the applause or, worse, the elections to wrest votes. So do not mention them. He only knows that one of those guys could be him.
is he, the boy of fifteen years, the real instigator and inspirer of accusations Fini. Not spending the money wants it back for the press to keep the section, to buy glue. They were well spent, it is proud. Not even wants back the lost years that no one can give back, moreover, the burning passions of that time. It even claims that must be granted the waste of thought, energy, words, deeds and missions later in the year dedicated to the "vision of the world." The ideas were thrown to the wind but this is right, the wind is that ideas should be given. That label lay on him for a lifetime, and cost him greatly, but also knew how to build upon something. No, no calls back days, newspapers, books, opportunities, and much more.
But what can not bear to think that someone, after having thrown overboard his ideas and their witnesses, in the toilet after throwing those flags and those sacrifices, having forgotten faces, lives, deaths, histories, cultures and thoughts can use what remains of a patrimony of faith and his passion for the pigs comfortable and his family clan. He understands everything, exchange ideas, adapt to their own time, abjure, deny, even betrayal. I do not condone, but understand, not respect, but agrees. It is the policy, and beauty. And imagine if he thinks should be nailed Flame on which also has fields for a long time. But what goes down is not pocket money to see those guys who gave only policy and had nothing, the money rolled in poor robbing them and their families were proud to say, those pitiful collections of humble and honest, to keep alive the sections, ending up in that way. People who save money on gasoline to give two of his seventeenth money to the party that eventually ended up engulfed in a Ferrari. People who have left to good causes her apartment. People who hoped to see one day triumph over the idea, as he said with true faith and grotesque. Instead, Monte Carlo, the Caribbean, two, three parties dissolved into thin air, youth dissolved acetic. This is what the boy can not perdonare.Da Berlusconi the boy did not expect anything heroic, or even by Bossi or Casini. And even by Fini, after all. He understood the times, languages \u200b\u200band needs changed, the needs of policy, the future ... It could even finance the political intrigues and bribes with crap, but dreams of playing on the skin, the skin of poor play and kids to live their dreams had taken the money they had two, no, not acceptable. Tapping into the piggy bank
marginalized hopes that it is shameful, how shameful is to leave the floor with your ass so many capable and faithful over the centuries, who gave his soul to his party and was still waiting for a space for themselves to promote rapid appaltoni with millionaires and that the family clan. He does not believe that the meaning of life is, as said in an interview Mouthpiece, "Food, sex and travel" (you forgot the money).
The real inspiration and instigator of the transaction is he, that boy of fifteen. His name is Marcello, but could be named Mark or Pietrangelo. Not if the interests Gianfrego should resign and go abroad, the Caribbean, or Monte Carlo, or continue. The stove grattaefini this interminable. It is ready to discuss the political reasons, without a priori despise. Now hear his explanations (why a video message, it's not Bin Laden). But Fini has no right to steal the dreams of a boy, an old man, a fighter. Has no right to go and sell their dignity, their sacrifices, their ideas. Can not mess that Pound's motto was that the crest of those guys, they really have called us, he has gained. That boy now asks Fini only a little effort to adapt the slogan to the real situation and say, if a man is willing to sell off the house, or anything that is not home or he is not worth anything. And the house was worth.
Marcello Veneziani
