Adopting a Dinosaur – Meeting No. 1

This all comes from a guy named

Fulvio

who gave me,

in the desolation of the deepest loneliness of mine,

a room mate. A pink Dinosaur.

I have started drawing him while i was alone,

in my room.

He’s here right now, looking at me. With his pink teeth.  

He’s a kind of star, who will soon appear in Fulvio’s movies.

Even better than having a rendez-vous with Brad Pitt.

cuffie

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A Small Illustration for Beautiful Freaks

Creative Commons- Attribution- No Modifications of this work – No Commercial- Always credit please!

This just a small drawing… I’m not sure about this one because it do not fit with the “spirit” of the mag so i’ll probably try something very different… to propose other points of view. For the moment, that’s it!

I’m listening to Micheal Jackson’s Ghost… I miss him so much. He had a terribile time these last years, before he died. But i feel, deep in my heart, that he never hurted children. I guess he had a strong sensibility and he was a kid inside.. He really got hurt from tabloids and that’s a real shame. A really big shame. That is so, so stupid. A good criticism is to talk about the work of an artist, and not his life.

If i could meet Virginia Wolf, i would ask her so many questions about her characters, her books, the story, why did she use a type of sentence istead of something else. I would not ask her: did you bleach your skin or did you love your husband? it’s so stupid.

BTW… have a nice weekend.

PS: You can download a bigger version of this drawing by clicking here.

Into the wild – Nella natura selvaggia

English: Sorry if i wasn’t there every day. I’m quite lost in te wilderness of this strange period. As i had some health problems, i felt a part of me surredering to lazyness. As ideas come reading… i’m just standing in my little corner, reading. I thought that my imagination could really go everywhere, so i would have conquered a part of freedom. To find again some inpiration, to find some ideas… to think how to find a way to write down, in this real world, all the events, faces, lives that are in my head. And it’s not easy. I’m actually reading 3 books at the same time. One that talks about writing scenarios, another who talk about the history of religions and the 10th book of Martin, related to the chronicles of ice and fire.  It’s odd: i had the impression that Martin was not the writer of this book. there was something… different.

It’s like i’m totally lost in the ocean and i’m looking for a lighthouse to set my mind at ease.

And it’s not easy. In the meantime, i’m lost in the wilderness… i’m in a very very small town on the borders of rance and Germany. Everyday here you can fell the heaviness of the second world war. Monuments, graveyards, trenches in the woods. It’s in the air. The pain is on the ground, while you walk on these borders. And you can still see how french and german hardly tollerate themselves here. It’s like something that lingers. Like the grey clouds in these last summer days.

I’ll start again. I’ll start again my career in the comics world. It’s not easy. And it’s my last shot. I really want to do it but i must find my way.

This was the view from my window this morning. There wasn’t enough light, actually there was a cloud that was covering the mountain (the trees actually reach the top of the picture). 

Italiano: Mi spiace non esserci stata tutti i giorni. tuttavia avendo avuto problemi di salute, una strana sensazione di pigrizia mi ha assalita. E dato che le idee vengono leggendo, mi sono messa zitta zitta nel mio angolo a leggere. La mia immaginazione può andare ovunque, a differenza mia, e così mi sono detta che avrei conquistato la mia parte di libertà. Per ritrovare l’ispirazione, per ritrovare le idee. Per tutto sta nel tirarle fuori. E’ quella la vera sfida. E’ questo che fa la differenza tra le persone: riuscire a tirare fuori dalla propria testa e concretizzare nel mondo reale le proprie idee, quei volti e quelle vite che altrimenti vivrebbero solamente nelle nostre teste.  Molte persone sono vuote, e la loro immaginazione ruota semplicemente attorno al loro narcisismo, ma quella è una loro condanna. Nonché il mio terrore. E non voglio né morire con il mio universo incompleto nel mondo reale, né vivere come la maggior parte delle persone: amici-modo-flirt. Non voglio. Non sono io. Attualmente mi alterno tra la lettura di tre libri… uno che tratta della sceneggiatura, uno che analizza la storia delle religioni a livello globale e infine sto leggendo il decimo volume delle Cronache del ghiaccio e e del fuoco di Martin, i guerrieri del ghiaccio. E’ strano perché è ho la sensazione che non l’abbia scritto lui.

Ho l’impressione di esser persa in un oceano, in attesa di un faro che mi mostri la strada.

E non è facile. E mentre tutto questo accade, sono persa ai confini franco-tedeschi, in una nebbiosa natura selvaggia. Qui è come se tutto fosse fermo. Si sente ancora l’aria della seconda guerra mondiale. Nei boschi, nelle strade, sulle pietre. Ogni miglio c’è un cimitero o un monumento al valore… insomma è come se qui ancora si riesce a toccare che filo aspro e diafano di odio e disperazione. C’è qualcosa che perdura e sopravvive… in questi uggiose nuvole che portano con sé la fine dell’estate.

Ricomincerò ancora con il fumetto. E’ un’ultima pallottola.