Beginnings 24/08/02


My first memory of my life, although my parents and the whole world keep denying the possibility of me remembering this. Whatever. My first memory this is my fucking story and i tell it how I want it! is of a great big argument between my parents and plates smashing.
Finally my mum had had enough of my good for nothing, cloud in the head, gambling father. he was never a bad man but he was and still is good for nothing, unless of course you enjoy being bombarded by useless facts.
Well this memory stayed with me forever as it freeze frames my entire life story. An incoherent loud babbling followed by a crashing world. this is what it sounded like to a year old child.
That was the first time my life crashed, but there are so many to follow. My life is a downward spiral, a graph drawn to describe the shares of a failing company. And yet it’s full of joy, fun and little tragedy.

My parents were children of the sixties but unfortunately they completely missed the fun side of such a great decade, caught up in a web of communism and student protests. So 11 years after the peak of Italian Student revolts and the birth of a right winged hyper capitalistic period including the rise to power of the queen of bitches Lady Margaret ‘Iron Lady’ Thatcher, I, Galileo Lo Leggio, was born
in a quiet and highly catholic town at the feet of the City of Peace protect by Saint Francis who enjoyed talking to animals and throwing away his clothes till he was naked, Assisi.
The third child and most capricious, but also the sweetest and if i say so myself the most attractive.
Bastia is where I’m from and yet it’s like i’ve never been there. Indeed i did grow up there and yet i feel so detached even though whenever i return it’s as if nothing has changed.

(I’m the moody one on the left)


I woke up.
I was falling through the rivers,
I managed to reach a shore
I slapped myself
I found a rock
and hit my head against it.
I was lost and didn’t know why.
I was lost and didn’t know where
I came from or where
I was going.

I was found by this wonderful woman who took me in.
She taught me the ways of this world.
Its language.
Its ways.
They felt alien to me.
I think sometimes she sensed I wasn’t from this world.
But she knew I was hers.
Her project. I gave meaning to her life.
She taught me to be a person from this world
but she had to let me go.
She knew she taught me all that I would want to learn.
She could not keep me.
I went into a wide and unfamiliar world
that shall never feel like home.
Then II woke up and I was born.

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