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KAFKA AT BOLOGNAWe have scoured the entire city to learn where the deception resides: the season opens with a polemic against the Stoics but the day is against those arguments: the name that persisted as far as the border with the rain expresses in a lofty style an event that everyone knows.There are scant traces of all the solutions, the higher region of existence does not belong to us: the cloudlessalbatross is a machine with simple rules, it plays with the hoopoe obstructing the past.I have seen previous winters escape this purpose: they rose during involuntary solitudes tracing lines over cones of grass. He can only be received again: his alter ego in this projection transforms the forest into a cultural zone: among the nocturnal gestures a virtuous exercise can be narrated in common words: the swallows come to visit Kafka's body. He never thought history could be any different.Through a system of errors the consignees reassume this machine in a manufacturing language: futurist objects must beadulated or switched off. Absorbed in a popular belief several scientists represent society with threads of memory: they try to hold it together but its vocation is to disintegrate, It cleverly fixes its game while a thread of light falls on the leaves.A program of negligent daysoffers a motive for reflection:the shining crowd has one footin the shadow, those who speak of itbecome the squalls of an epoch:the pretence of the uprooted flows into myth and a double row of vinesrocks the chairs in the dining room.The altar boy walks between dialectic andstructure: he shakes the branches at sunset, unaware that nothing is a syllogism:and an insidious pair leads a central idea to a baroque cart:because of his solitude he only lives twice.The distance conceals those motives, the defects whirl in the air, he had conceived an important project but saw his intentions vanish.