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Accetto Chudi


by Matteo F.M. Sommaruga

I approached that decisive night, when I definitely decided to settle on the roof of what sooner or later would have become my former company, with the most pro-active spirit that any consultant should ever been capable of. Just few hours were in front of me before the closing time of most of the superstores where something cheap and durable could have been tracked.

The life of an intellectual could be quite expensive, but not certainly for the common objects coveted by the everyday man. A tent, a couple of camp lights, rechargeable with the plugs of the open space, spare batteries and any kind of accumulator. Some sealed boxes, ready to stand the fiercest storm. Some pillows and a bench, to sleep upon. That was enough to survive. Yet, the intelligence of that original operational headquarters resided in a small bag, that contained a four portable hard disks. One terabyte each, since it was not enough to store each information a couple of times in order to be mathematically sure to preserve it for posterity.

The pictures of the old house, of the whole families, of holidays and expeditions abroad, books, movies, newspapers and songs. Everything was stored in those small parallelepipeds. I just couldn't rely on the melody of the piano, I used to play during the Christmas holidays, since it could have been easily noticed and hardly covered by the small tent I built. A violin was apter, especially if an electronic one, whose sound I could have listened to with a couple of headset. Microwave ovens were still compact, and affordable, during those days, as well as a little fridge, where to store some provisions even for some long period under cover.

I would have experimented not so few incongruent situations, especially when my working conditions were to be accounted. Sleeping night time over the place where I felt to be almost enslaved, condemned to trivial tasks, not less than the criminals convicted to the forced labour in Siberia. Dreaming, and putting my dreams to the reality, in the very same area that originally constituted a severe hindrance to the development of my career. I actually felt angrier and angrier and that absurd rebellion to the rules of the human Civilization, as if nomadic behaviour should be considered the most asocial and dangerous instinct a good subject and citizen should ever be ashamed of, was just the final consequence of my denial to recognize the whole Democratic Republic to be legitimate.

social social social print

On the other side of Berlin Wall

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