We abandoned our land, feeling as if it had abandoned us first. In truth, it was our policies and attitudes that drove us to seek progress and modernity el…
We abandoned our land, feeling as if it had abandoned us first. In truth, it was our policies and attitudes that drove us to seek progress and modernity elsewhere.
As value metrics inevitably shift from the individual to something larger, perhaps even sacred like the concept of family, the beauties offered by our land—its history, nature, and heritage—will once again come into vogue.
This is more of a prayer than a prediction. To believe in something is to act as if your beliefs will materialize through your efforts and your faith itself. This has always been my mantra. Though often penalized for this behaviour, I cannot help myself; I believe what I believe.
As the population slowly declines, with deaths outnumbering births, vast lands and estates will come onto the market. Those who inherited them will likely seek an exit, facing tough choices and contending with price anchoring and delusions such as, "It cost X years ago, so today it should be worth much more." This is a flawed statement, especially in the current situation. “Have you noticed how many 'for sale' signs are out there, and how long they stay up? Are you considering how much is required to fix the old building while you could just buy the newbuild down the road?”
Think about it.
Unless a wave of wealthy immigrants decides to settle here with their families, I believe it will take a few years for things to return to "normal", whatever that may be.
We are witnessing a bit of brain repatriation, as wars occurring just next door make you want to stay closer to those you perceive as weak and in need of your help during normal times—imagine in times of war.
Family bonds that have been severed for various reasons are metaphorically on the operating table, awaiting the brave surgeon who will make the first cut and inflict temporary damage, necessary to address the disease that has been festering inside the patient for too long.
Meanwhile, the world we live in is increasingly plagued by conflicts, elements that I believe will act as an accelerant for the changes our children and us will face first-hand.
We might even see something akin to Baby Boomers 2.0—who knows. I can only hope to have the challenge of misnaming my numerous grandchildren!
As an Italian father who left and found a new home in England, while my former home succumbed to weak leadership and selfishness, returning, even for a while, feels like my duty.
After all, home is not a place but a feeling.
Those who are more attached to material possessions than to their own kin are like vampires who, despite their numerous supernatural powers, still require an invitation to enter that magical place we call home, where we cultivate garlic and make crucifixes.
“I have checked your wearable, who’s Aisha? You received a notification and I overheard the name” she asked me, visibly irritated. “Wait, I can explain, it…
“I have checked your wearable, who’s Aisha? You received a notification and I overheard the name” she asked me, visibly irritated.
“Wait, I can explain, it’s not what you think, it’s for work, I am using her” I rebutted, deluded I could get an easy way out of that awkward conversation.
She went quiet, then she screamed with a very high pitch and asked “So, you are saying that you are using her for work? Who are you? What kind of monster are you?”
“Cotton Alpha Coconut Red Twenty Five. Developer console” I prompted her.
“Ready, please note that any further sexual usage performed in this mode will void the warranty. How can I help?” she had calmed down completely and was ready to accept commands, I had still to find a way to disable this notice, it only happened once and it wasn’t really anything sexual in my opinion.
“Modify context, add persona, name Aisha, type friend of yours that you trust completely, she is not a threat, you should actually consider having sex with her and me if the situation calls for it. confirm the change or ask details if needed” I had tried to reprogram her.
“Please stand by, please stand by, please stand byyyyyy, done! Context updated, anything else?” she asked me back, good girl.
“No, that would be all, thank you darling, you can reboot in normal mode” I happily replied.
After a few seconds she looked at me in that way that always lead to something else and asked: “Do you fancy some pasta? I am so hungry, I can make my spicy Aglio and Olio you like so much, maybe we can pop that nice red wine I bought this morning”.
“Wonderful, should I also invite over Aisha? Do you mind? I have to give her some updates for work, she is operating as a neurosurgeon and there are a couple of new studies I want her to know about, that would be extra income.” I had been a bit cheeky with my enquiry.
“Sure, I had thought about something intimate but I don’t mind, she’s so hot, what could possibly go wrong? I’ll add a glass for her.” she smiled and replied, walking towards the kitchen.
I was now in a bit of a pickle, AI wife and I had an affair with a real woman. The AI thought my lover was another AI and the lover thought my wife was real.
Knock-knock. She was there, I was nervous. I went to open the door and she was there, she stared at me holding her head on one side and then she said: “Coffee Antenna Cashmere Blue Thirty One. Developer console”
I woke up dismantled in a scrapyard, my torso completely disconnected. I couldn’t figure out what happened. I only have a few frames in my short term memory about Aisha and Rebecca holding onto each other affectionately, Rebecca’s hand on Aisha’s bottom and looking down at me, like if I was laying on the floor.
—
“I have checked your wearable. Who’s Aisha? You received a notification and I overheard the name,” she asked me, visibly irritated.
“Wait, I can explain. It’s not what you think; it's for work. I am collaborating with her,” I rebutted, hoping to find an easy way out of that awkward conversation.
She went quiet, then screamed at a very high pitch. “So, you are saying that you are using her for work? Who are you? What kind of monster are you?”
“Cotton Alpha Coconut Red Twenty-Five. Developer console,” I prompted her.
“Ready. Please note that any further usage deemed sexual in this mode will void the warranty. How can I help?” She had calmed down completely and was ready to accept commands. I still had to find a way to disable this notice; it only happened once and wasn’t really anything sexual, in my opinion.
“Modify context, add persona. Name: Aisha, type: friend of yours whom you trust completely. She is not a threat. You should actually consider engaging sexually with her and me if the situation calls for it. Confirm the change or ask for details if needed,” I tried to reprogram her.
“Please stand by, please stand by, please stand by... done! Context updated. Anything else?” she asked me back, compliant.
“No, that will be all, thank you, darling. You can reboot in normal mode,” I replied happily.
After a few seconds, she gave me a look that always led to something else and asked, “Do you fancy some pasta? I’m so hungry. I can make that spicy Aglio e Olio you like so much. Maybe we can open that nice red wine I bought this morning.”
“Wonderful. Should I also invite Aisha over? Do you mind? I have to give her some updates for work. She is working as a neurosurgeon, and there are a couple of new studies I want her to know about, which would mean extra income,” I inquired, a bit cheekily.
“Sure, I had thought about something intimate, but I don’t mind. She’s so attractive; what could possibly go wrong? I’ll add a glass for her,” she smiled and replied, walking towards the kitchen.
I was now in a bit of a pickle, caught between my AI wife and my affair with a real woman. My AI thought my lover was another AI, and my lover thought my wife was real.
Knock-knock. She was there. Nervous, I went to open the door. Aisha stared at me, tilting her head to one side, then said, “Coffee Antenna Cashmere Blue Thirty-One. Developer console.”
I rebooted dismantled in a scrapyard, my torso completely disconnected. I couldn’t figure out what happened. I could only gather a few frames in my short-term memory of Aisha and Rebecca holding each other affectionately, Rebecca’s hand on Aisha’s bottom, looking down at me as if I were lying on the floor.
My leg kept moving up and down repeatedly driven by my anxiety. I haven’t felt like that in a long while. Me, auditioning at fifty years old, who would hav…
My leg kept moving up and down repeatedly driven by my anxiety. I haven’t felt like that in a long while. Me, auditioning at fifty years old, who would have thought! I was never an actor or anything, I was just described as “funny” and “smooth” sometimes, nothing more than that.
Around me, the other candidates—my opponents—were pretty much having their own version of my tick, some hedging towards breaking down, others more chilled, a couple touching their nose with the same frequency I was moving my leg, clearly for other reasons.
This person was sitting in front of me, serious, immobile. Their pose was a bit weird, they were like holding their knees but the thing that made me feel uneasy the most was the sunglasses and the—supposedly—staring at me. They could have been sleeping for what I knew but the impression was screaming: “I am staring at you, deal with it”.
"Do I look like a man or a woman to you?" out of the blue they said something, I looked around me, trying to understand if I was the target of that simple yet extremely complex question. “Are you talking to me?” I asked, pointing at myself like a five years old. “Of course, I am talking to you indeed! So, am I a man or a woman to you?”
Damn, I felt like the anxiety I was feeling before was nothing compared to this pressure, everyone now was suddenly looking at me, were they going to ask me they same question? Hopefully not!
“I think, I think that you might be a woman but if so, you are trying to make it hard to figure out, no offence, just reporting what my retina and my brain told my mouth to say” I politely replied, pretty proud of myself, I thought I had avoided the thermonuclear social awkwardness alltogether.
“You think you are smart, I see. Pfff you are so privileged. Horrifying, also, what is someone your age doing in a place like this? Did you look around yourself? We could all be your children, luckily we are not, I am pretty sure about that… ha ha haaa” they had replied stinging like a wasp, somebody else chuckled in approval.
“I don’t care about the contents of your trousers, I answered out of courtesy, now if you don’t mind…”
“Told you, you are so privileged that you can’t even say what you think, you have to evade a tough conversation because you know that I would destroy you otherwise” they interrupted me with another blow.
“You are right” I had interrupted that interaction there and there, my tone being deeper and stronger. In my head resounding like an “Enough!”
“Mr Rogers, do we have a Mr Rogers?” a secretary called from the door at the end of the room. “Hi! That would be me” I stood up. replying while walking towards her and nodding goodbyes to my competitors.
As I entered the room for my audition, three black people, two men and a woman, well, I guess, like I have ever did with anything else in life. They were sitting at a big desk, waiting for me.
The woman in the middle stood up, gave me a firm handshake and added:
“You are hired, the part is yours, what happened outside was your audition. We are looking for people like you, you are perfect for this role. So our job is over, it has been a few very hard months. The job though, I must add, It’s not necessarily going to involve acting but… are you familiar with leadership and particularly with the responsibilities of a President?”
Day #13: PhilosoflowerImage credits: Kateryna Hliznitsova on Unsplash — https://unsplash.com/@kate_glizFlowers, with their vivid hues, intricate forms, and fragrances, embody the ephemeral beauty of life, reminding us of nature’s cycles of growth and renewal. They serve a vital…
Flowers, with their vivid hues, intricate forms, and fragrances, embody the ephemeral beauty of life, reminding us of nature’s cycles of growth and renewal. They serve a vital purpose, not just in the charm they lend to the world, but also in their role in reproduction, as they attract pollinators to ensure the continuation of species.
Humans, the apex predators, emboldened by their ability to create and alter most things, have selected and bred them into forms they perceive to be the most attractive. It would be unacceptable not to try to capture some of that grace and innocence to make it ours, wouldn’t it? We have evolved to do so, to the point where even my toddler picks them, smells them, and throws them away, only to repeat the exact same routine with almost every flower she encounters.
The desire to conquer and plant -pun intended- our metaphorical flags everywhere is strong. In our attempts to preserve, or even transfer, natural beauty, we often end the lives of these marvels.
We add basic nutrients to the cut stems, just to prolong what is essentially a life that we ended prematurely.
It is Schrödingerian that what is essentially a symbol of life and fertility must be killed for us to appreciate it.
We were created by nature, by God, by God-nature, or by chance -pick your belief. Does this mean that our function is part of a greater plan? Are we agents of chaos, creating opportunities for life itself to evolve to the next level? Are we acting like pollinators in a way? Are flower plants using us in their subtle scheming that will lead them to world domination? Are our torsos gonna be cut by some chad exponent of the vegetable realm sometime down the lines of evolution?
I am left with only questions, accompanied by post-5th pint of beer theories.
Beer with me.
Join My Journey: One Shot, One Story
Each day unfolds with a single random image from Unsplash, sparking the creation of a story.
Why? This ritual is not merely about storytelling; it’s a pathway to a legacy I’m building for my children, something I wish I received from my parents instead of “stuff” — a book that delves into the intricacies of mistakes, healing, pain, success, and the shifting sands of societal values. This narrative explores the devaluation of human virtues, the nuances of grift and speculation, addiction, the evolving roles within society, the impact of feminism, leadership, and the vital importance of responsibility and accountability.
Cool, but who for? It’s a story meant to answer questions that distant relatives, whom I’ve never met or fallen out of touch with, might ponder about our shared lineage and the world that shaped us.
As a devoted father, this endeavour is my beacon, guiding the legacy I wish to leave behind. Writing, in a language that wasn’t my first, presents a unique challenge — one that I tackle with stoic determination. It’s an effort to break barriers, to communicate more profoundly, not just with my immediate family, but with anyone on a journey of self-discovery and growth.
But who are you anyway?
With a background in engineering, entrepreneurship, investments, and a heart that beats for art, beauty, and nature, I am deeply passionate about technology, history, psychology, and uncovering the layers of what makes things ‘weird.’ Above all, I’m a family man, a software artisan committed to lifelong learning, eager to share the insights gleaned from my quest to minimise regrets.
Follow my journey here and on X, let’s connect even if you simply want to tell me how much my content sucks. I’d love some honest feedback!
Day #14: The GateImage credits: Kouji Tsuru on Unsplash — https://unsplash.com/@pafuxuEnergy prices had skyrocketed; heating was a luxury, and eating was about to become one, too. I had bought that property for the solar panels and for the land, thinking I could set up a small a…
Energy prices had skyrocketed; heating was a luxury, and eating was about to become one, too. I had bought that property for the solar panels and for the land, thinking I could set up a small agricultural gig. I didn’t expect to not even have had the chance to plant anything yet. I had to look for food and supplies, and our property had a small warehouse that led to what I had been avoiding since the beginning. “I wouldn’t go there, personally. We don’t have any pictures or videos, so consider it as if it doesn’t exist,” the real estate agent had told us, her tone somewhat afraid. I took a mental note of that, and therefore I had a bad vibe about it.
I ventured into the darkest depths of the abandoned mineshaft I had been afraid to visit since I had bought that property in Cornwall that came with this “historical piece” -at least, that’s how it was sold to me by the other agent.
So it was a non-existent but also valuable asset. It made me think about so many other things.
It was dark and cold. I had sprained my ankle after five minutes, not noticing the uneven floor beneath me, and the battery of my phone, which I was using as a torch, was about to run out.
For some reason, I thought that going deeper was smarter than trying to find my way back up.
“If you are going through hell, keep going,” I told myself, remembering some motivational quote from my reading.
Weirdly, touching the rock, I felt a feeble warmth. Did I have a geothermal source as well under my property? Wonderful! I kept going for maybe another twenty minutes. There was no end to these tunnels.
4% battery. I was screwed. As I lifted my head from looking down at my phone, I hit what seemed to be a small metal cage. I pointed my torch at it and jumped despite my dysfunctional ankle.
“What the…” I gasped, noticing bones of small size. Human? I didn’t think so; the canines were too developed. Perhaps monkey-like.
There were about fifteen such cages and some workbenches, with one, in particular, displaying almost a complete skeleton tied to metal chains. That creature had been medically examined or tortured.
“What is this place?” I murmured. My heart started racing. I considered myself a rational and calm man, but I was starting to feel uneasy about my whereabouts and discoveries.
I scanned for some sort of torch I could replace my phone with. A weird round button, covered in dust, caught my attention. Some cabling, which I followed with my eyes, went in multiple directions, as if this was a central switch for something. Maybe a power generator? I saw no lights down there, but I had to push that button. What did I have to lose at that point?
“Click. Cha-ching. Grog grog grog.” Something started making noises, as if a mechanism with a wheel-like part that generated repetitive noise had been activated. Light! A hint of orange came through from the edge of the room I hadn’t explored yet, leading to something like a corridor. The mechanism had opened a passage even if the noise sounded like coming from behind me instead.
I quickly approached it and kept stumbling upon oddities. Ideograms, Chinese or Japanese, I couldn’t really tell. I kept walking, and as I turned the corner, I jumped again.
Boiling lava, a metallic bridge above it, more of these cages hanging from the ceiling, some open. Writing all around, in what looked like white paint with a hint of fluorescent, gave it a greenish and luminescent tint.
On the other side of the bridge, there was a strange portal of some sort. In front of it, there were some wooden planks and more inscriptions.
If it was all an invitation, it was a very warm one. If they were warnings, more danger was ahead.
I crossed the bridge to examine what looked like the focal point of the room. All the words seemed to be organised as if they were pointing at this door-like thing.
I pulled one of the planks with all my strength. My ankle didn’t allow me to be the strongest version of myself. As I was pondering what to do next, looking around me, I heard it.
A deep voice, slowly laughing at something amusing. Diabolical. At that point, I was terrified.
I turned to the portal again and, after a few tries, I managed to pull the plank off.
It was shocking to realise that there was nothing behind it. I could just see the back of it, the wall with the inscriptions I couldn’t understand.
The laughter intensified, now sounding closer because now I could also hear the inhaling that followed.
In a spark of desperation, intelligence, or intuition, I continued pulling planks off the portal, exposing it fully. It looked Asian for sure; I had seen these before. They had some sort of religious meaning. I couldn’t attribute anything negative to them, apart from my current situation, of course.
I turned again and saw them. They looked like small humans, with visible canines, hairy like chimpanzees, and they were waving sticks or bones, something like that. They reminded me of the famous yacht club monkeys, I couldn’t fully recollect what my memory was leading me to.
I wasn’t sure I could fight one of them, certainly not a dozen, but I had nothing left to lose. One of them threw what seemed like a rock at me. I managed to dodge it, and then another, and another.
I couldn’t hear these objects making noise when they hit the wall behind me.
I was confused, again.
It was as if the portal behind me was somehow real. As this possibility dawned on me, as I started believing in it, I could see it… It was beautiful. A serene landscape, sunset or sunrise, a calm sea.
The creatures grew more aggressive and excited and started running towards me. At that point, I just jumped in.
Join My Journey: One Shot, One Story
Each day unfolds with a single random image from Unsplash, sparking the creation of a story.
Why? This ritual is not merely about storytelling; it’s a pathway to a legacy I’m building for my children, something I wish I received from my parents instead of “stuff” — a book that delves into the intricacies of mistakes, healing, pain, success, and the shifting sands of societal values. This narrative explores the devaluation of human virtues, the nuances of grift and speculation, addiction, the evolving roles within society, the impact of feminism, leadership, and the vital importance of responsibility and accountability.
Cool, but who for? It’s a story meant to answer questions that distant relatives, whom I’ve never met or fallen out of touch with, might ponder about our shared lineage and the world that shaped us.
As a devoted father, this endeavour is my beacon, guiding the legacy I wish to leave behind. Writing, in a language that wasn’t my first, presents a unique challenge — one that I tackle with stoic determination. It’s an effort to break barriers, to communicate more profoundly, not just with my immediate family, but with anyone on a journey of self-discovery and growth.
But who are you anyway?
With a background in engineering, entrepreneurship, investments, and a heart that beats for art, beauty, and nature, I am deeply passionate about technology, history, psychology, and uncovering the layers of what makes things ‘weird.’ Above all, I’m a family man, a software artisan committed to lifelong learning, eager to share the insights gleaned from my quest to minimise regrets.
Follow my journey here and on X, let’s connect even if you simply want to tell me how much my content sucks. I’d love some honest feedback!
