The damned house.

After years of separation, two brothers met forced by an inconvenient event. Their father’s funeral.

“When was the last time?” Both said at unison shocked by the signs of time. It felt like was since childhood—in late 70’s when one of the two was wearing a Star Wars T-shirt that day, doesn’t matter who, back then they exchanged clothes—that both haven’t seen each other.  The older brother, now a successful financier that wore an impeccable hand-embroidery wool suit, a heavy Swiss watch and a smartphone that appeared glued to his hand. The younger brother, a renowned acupuncturist and alternative healer, environmentalist and social network activist that wore a flannel attire, Buddhist prayer beads, slovenly long hair and worn leather sandals.

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Hero or Tyrant?

Hero or Tyrant? A very thin line divides the two, one next to the other sometimes can be the same.

The only registries of our existence in this world are the archives of history, but even history it’s written by men, and mankind is subjective and capricious. Many of the greatest artists the world has known, lived an infamous life misunderstood by the society of their time and died in the anonymity, just for some centuries later the people could say “We were wrong.” (more…)

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