A Flemish story writen by Massimo Usai
I recently found myself aimlessly scrolling through social media and had to force myself to quit.
After endless photos of people under a glorious sun somewhere in the Mediterranean, or on vacation in Dubai (anyway, everyone goes to Dubai in winter, except me?), I started to feel like I was the only idiot not on holiday.
I looked out the window, recalled by the rain beating the windows. I fell more and more, sitting on the sofa. At the same time, the dog seems to adore, on the contrary, the fact that it can sit quietly lying down without having to do absolutely anything.
The well that this is the effect that Instagram can have on us.
I am well educated to know all these things, but there is nothing to do. If I relax for a moment with my mind, Instagram throws me down instead of making me spend some carefree time.
Then I saw a tweet about Boris Johnson and was reminded that it could have been worse in life, so I smiled at myself and my deeply disappointed mood.
I’ve been trying to tell a story for some time. To be honest, there are three stories. Still, one, in particular, is almost over, and I seriously hope that some publisher will want to bet on this unlucky writer.
I am telling the story of a man who one day leaves his city with his family, tries to change his life, and then goes back on his steps, tired from experiences and exhausted from his advancing age.
Will such a story work?
In my opinion, it is a compelling story of human commitment in an attempt to change its path marked by chance and circumstances.
But for everyone to read it, I need someone to count on my story.
In 1980 I had a dream, one day that in one of the worst summers ever recorded, suffering from a continuous sweat on my back and often sleeping wet.
I dreamed of becoming a writer, of books or songs.
This memory reminded me that life is not always glamorous.
And while I was waiting for my glamour, the years have passed, and I still have that particular dream in my memories.
So I want back to talk to all those people on Instagram, smiling and happy. I would like to see them suffer in the cold and wet under a Flemish gutter, all for my personal enjoyment.
Maybe I’m the one who deserves a few weeks of fun in the sun, other than you, dear Instagram friends.
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