Living in a middle ground there fosters awareness of completely different, is an attitude inherent in our chromosomes, in memory of our bodies, as the inhabitants of the center of a universe made, culturally self-sufficient and thriving. Here it also becomes a completely different supplementing different, because I can recognize in me by raising a touchstone exactly what differentiate us, because what they are not open my eyes endless horizons of what I could be, that I may become, or even what a time it was.
The Mediterranean, which is made by the identity of women and men facing this sea isolated enclosed, almost spoiled by the embrace of the land is in a potentially everlasting, the place chosen for this exchange of life as flowing currents that move, under the patina of salt.
Some, then, the story and describing it, modify it, enhancing it or, worse, distort it. It is true that our eyes work like kaleidoscopes reflective, and sometimes wonderful design geometries and some other terrible colorful jumbles of dark tones.
What is the way to approach the media to the story of the Mediterranean and the people who inhabit it? What interest is implied in this or that way to mediate a reality? Telling is
a big job, you never know if what you say is true or if you are following your physical or ideological hallucinations. Yet at the same time, because the collective imagination on which the real stories need to continue to permeate the wonderful scenic structure that we have built as habitat. And the Mediterranean is a wonderful theater full of scenes.F. Alessandro Motta
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