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I did not want to write again Giancarlo Fornari, because I have his voice inside that asks me to look forward and yells at me because I have not ready money on that piece that I had to publish later this year but returned to the office I found the mailbox piena di messaggi incrociati tra tutti coloro che hanno avuto il privilegio di lavorare con lui in quella stagione pionieristica per la comunicazione pubblica che aveva in lui uno dei suoi artefici principali. Non ne riporto il contenuto, anche perché è facilmente immaginabile, ma noto che si tratta di un caso rarissimo in cui un dirigente viene ricordato con affetto da "sottoposti" oggi così distanti per territorio e/o scelta professionale. Al saluto di Paolo Tenaglia era allegato il bellissimo video di Peter Gabriel che trovate in fondo, scelta azzeccatissima. Prima, l'ultimo saluto a Giancarlo lo lascio alle significative e toccanti parole di lui stesso, pubblicate quando stava benissimo (lo preciso solo perché ciò evita di misunderstand the meaning) web Liberauscita :

Prayer for the Man-Tree

(If and when I am no longer me)

Giancarlo Fornari

Thanks for giving me a second youth

thanks for loving me thank you for reading, playing and talking with me

of everything that interests you and I'm interested

thanks for running with me

to walk with me

the shadows of the woods or hills

colored brooms

thanks to embrace

to make love to me

with the body and heart

to climb up with me as a glider

raised by a warm current

growing up

to tire. And thanks for

when I older than you I can not run anymore

I weakened

I can no longer follow

more tired I find it hard to love

thanks for being with me to support me

to let me put to you because I know that life with

me is not just sex

not just run and play

life is just a smile, a caress, a word

and these will always be able to give them to you

too old.

But if and when I'm gone I

when old age or a dark evil

tore me away from me when something mysterious and unfathomable

I will divide into two

(my soul and my mind my heart forever

projected spaces

my motionless body on a wheelchair) when

reduced tree

I can not even smile at you because I figure most

what are you and what am I

then, we love

part.

I do thank you for what you do

for the Man-Man-Tree

Sasso

Man-Meat

gross body

pure matter without soul light

heartless

without a smile that will

my name but I am no longer me.

I, my love, while you sacrifice one thing for

inert

I will be elsewhere

I a walk in the clouds will be on top

Epomeo

to see the sun rise over the

I Sciliar

playing with a hang-gliding, I

to meditate in a cave Egadi.

I, my love, I

in the books I've read and what I've written

in memory of the people I have met and

have loved me in the eyes of my daughters will

I'll be in your heart

anywhere except in that there

human

stand where I do not recognize

and that it will not

nothing to do with me.

So please, my love, I speak seriously

not want to sacrifice

especially if unnecessary.

When you see that I no longer

just keep me in your memory, do not store

for statistical purposes.

not help me survive

deprived of everything that makes me human

even if you say that God's will.

But if God could love me do this and if

is the same God who has chosen and carefully planned the Holocaust

organizing the massacres

plagues and scourges that afflicted this world

only "to put to the test"

and "make his providential design"

is not a good God

and probably not not a God but only the projection

their poor minds

and you must not listen.

Listen, please, only your heart and mine.

Find the strength in you to help me. Take me with you

for

last trip to a country where good

understand that Men-Men-tree

stone

though they can not express

want to die

not want to be forced to live a life of

rock and tree

no offense

respectable for these entities in the universe.

And you, my love, do not take my mourning

not be sad because my

know that we will meet someday

perhaps a life either processed in two butterflies

or maybe in two swallows fly together

on up to the heavens

and we will have little more to feed the hungry

insects and night we will love the dark

in our nest of straw

with the heart and body

to tire.

Love if you love me

kill me.

Put these words in comparison with the misery of those who choose to establish a "national day for the vegetative state" on the anniversary of the day in which the will of Eluana itself was finally fulfilled after 17 years ( here Micromega 's appeal instead to make the National Day of free choice over their own lives ), and you have a vague idea of \u200b\u200bstellar distance between the size of the giant who left us and that of dwarfs (some even the same age) in apparent good health but still allows you to rage and grieve.
And now the floor to Peter Gabriel is best ...