Ireland ... Belfast ... Catholics and Protestants, hatred wrapped in thick tarred grudges. And I hate feeds hate, like spirals suffocating. Cyber me in your blood. Diio bastard Moloch of blood, Leviticus sing your infamy. God of armies and batteries of fire. While running the sacred walls, blood on blood, the pride of the cemeteries.

Belfast Protestant neighborhoods, districts Catholics. From father to son, from son to father hatred cells, biological mutation, aimed at askance. Neighborhoods and barbed wire. And 'long list of your wrongs. Know by heart your infamy. Since childhood I learned to dream injured, enjoy your dissoluizione.
Belfast, Freeze, years ago .. the seed of hatred.

I remember that scene. I saw on television. There was a Catholic school, in the midst of a Protestant neighborhood. They were the first days of opening the school year starts. An entrance leading to the school, following a long avenue just over a mile through the city. Avenue open to both sides where people could crowd. Top dell'imbocco a mother with two young daughters can not move.
Hundreds and hundreds .. hundreds, maybe thousands .. Protestants along the road watching the two girls at the mouth foaming rage. Make no mistake in your sewers, shouting. Dirty papists. This is our land. The face spoof, parody of the human, monkey bleating .. So much hate not to see that two girls are only two girls. Do not have an idea, a religion, an ethnicity.
The traumatized children were pale and cried a rag. A child can not conceive of such hatred .. can not even imagine the fat bitch who feeds on human life ... crying for a lame Grilo and frightens a groan in the night .. and believes that monsters exist only in fairy tales. But you see crazy, screaming, distorted, crackling. I hate .. feel the hate.
Sometimes the scenes are blocked. It happens almost always. Would remain locked that too. Jeremiads impaled in the celebrated epic of the absurd bastards .. walls on walls worlds autistic eat along the road of loneliness and abuse. Fences and barbed wire. A thousand years ago, and still now.
Sometimes something happens. Someone gets up and challenge the wall of dementia ..
You say .. is this Love?
A man, who was it? .. relative, friend of girls? mother? their family? ... We'll never know .. A man moves and reaches the entrance, and take the two girls with their hands, one right and one left. Take their hands gently and began to walk the avenue. And it runs quietly, without turning on the right, without turning left. Without laughing or crying. Without looking at the crowd. Without responding to provocation, but without even scorn. Simply walking with two girls on either side. It insults rain down like stone-throwing, stoning. Shout stadium intoxicated. It 's almost a joke, a challenge. What walking and braying of helpless bastardy implode. I do not know what costs you do not look left and right. I do not know if your legs were shaking, even if you gave him not to understand.
I do not know if fear will take the lower abdomen, while advancing your steps.
But did you know that you had to do. What you could not do otherwise.
That you took to hand those babies and you entered in the Mouth of the Dragon, just because ..
I had no choice ... because sometimes you can just go ..
Give me your hands ...
And walked and screams grew. I wonder what you were saying. Come, come, have you made five hundred meters.
Next, do not be afraid. You see the cries growing. But they will not miss much. Continue. We besiege Basaan dogs. But this is more of a normal school day. It is not just a normal school day. It 's much more. These children should get. Or at least, until you can portal out.
What is that strange impulse that leads us to act? That middle way between heroism and folly .. or just not being able to swallow when day after day, life after life dreams are broken and leave the iron heels of tears and wounds teach rough stones for life.
Path, when the left came from a stone. Target missed. Briefly. Grazed his left ear, blood falls. And there is growing fear, as ripples extend to you and severed his throat. They are ready to kill you. The next time it could be that good. If not the head one eye .. or teeth .. or spine, paralyzed for life.
For the first time you stop. How heavy were your legs then? For the first time anxiety choking you. Would you cower or run backward. The face is pale, white .. breathing with difficulty. Passing minute.
The braying fall, the crowd stares. The minutes pass. Endless.
It continues. Looking ahead. Right hand a little girl. Another left hand.
Other quarter-mile to go.
But no more screams. The screams are few, but almost forced, without momentum, less convinced.
Until silenced. It remains only you and the silence, and looks like conglomerate in silent film.
And you continue to advance, some stumbling, shivering body. But go.
And something breaks. A grain of mustard nell'ingranaggio bloodthirsty.
And the applause. What nonsense. Who is the fool who could do such a thing?
A Catholic Pasdaran Belfast clapping? But holy god here are all crazy.
A Catholic who applauded a Protestant.
But when he had never seen anything like that.
You, crowds on two legs, but what makes you walk is like a faith? Daniel, Daniel in the lions' den. And the lions lost time and lost the game rules, sparititi jump.
Applause. Then two, three, four, ten, twenty.
And everyone applauds that makes it almost jerky, almost shameful, not looking the other incredulously. But he can not do otherwise. A melee. With embarrassment, hatred inoculated with DNA. As a child you learned the taste of burning. As a child you have known the face of your enemy. Struggling with the embarrassment .. but then the applause increased.
And this time is the contagion of evil. The applause are rampant. Hundreds. Thousands.
The man with two children at the hands can not control the tears fall, but now missing just over a hundred meters ..
First day of school. Belfast. Many years ago.
I would break a branch with you.
I could bring in everything that I was torn.
I remember a song Lifiba,,, Litfiba,,, extracts ...

"You can win a war in two
And maybe even alone
It can also extract the heart as black murderess
But it is more difficult to change an idea ..
...
My dream is a sea acid
And tell me if it is not real
The day dresses of light every living thing,
But it removes the fear of ghosts!
...
I want ideas to survive
And a thousand, thousand, a thousand not enough!
And that dream, you know,
Continue to call me in the deep water

A fall in the whirlpools
My hands, which no longer stop .. "