Love in the time of the Internet?

She answered to Josè’s thank you, for her friendship, with an expression justified by her enigmatic profile, somehow sophisticated and appealing: “De nada, senor”. From there, either by chance or by compensation, every night they would open with utterances on emotions experienced in the hardest moments, those fed by the fear of being left alone, thrown into a harsh, emotionally sterile reality with no way out. A world, many would say of incompatibilities, in which the night becomes a dark stage where confidence meets melancholy, while reconciliation with life becomes a very distant, nearly impossible, perspective. Paulette answers to Josè’s messages and it doesn’t really matter if the sun has awakened, because they are both fighting against sleeping and they melt, remaining lucid and available until morning comes, when they return to the paths of their mediocre daily realities. It’s in the deepest shadows that the unexpected energies cleave the ether and strip the soul, which gets emotional and scared, meditates and suffers in front of the unanticipated storms of life. Here, bottomless thoughts that escort and nourish hope and fear, and make weak and docile every single sensible and introverted person, surge without restraint. And so, the internet comes to the rescue when the square is empty because it feels like talking to yourself, even when you talk to somebody who becomes a friend. However, they will never be able to tell anyone else, only ethereal and harmless ghosts. Paulette has a prominent position in the world of art and performance. It’s evident on her business card. She advances smoothly through the maze of communication and becomes her speaker’s instigator and accomplice, because these are the precise opportunities to remain bound to a world she is able to penetrate only through the narration of others. However, there is more in this instance, and the exchanges with Josè don’t stop after a few lines, as they keep relying on each other to construct, each one on their side, a space to enlarge, a reality to disclose, preserve and treasure. A space where confidences translate into reflections, and doubts give birth to certainties that help them live, gradually peeling away the daily filth. Cultural affinity generates these effects as well, and the pure energy of a vast and empty plaza enables the surprising revelation of living for something noble and pure, avoided only by those who are plagued by an evil gush of power and the lust for possession. Josè is intimately acquainted with all types of loneliness, from the deprivation of affection, to that sudden instance when a friendship becomes just an acquaintance, simply because of the anxiety that accompanies the disappointment of a mundane existence. When the stars make their first appearance, Paulette purposely dismisses her role at The Magazine to find her space in that huge square, where she surrenders to the caresses, chased by time, of a recurring dream, to shed light on the past that is rediscovered through the tale of another. Yeah, a different version of Josè, who, lonely and depressed, is looking for someone who is willing to listen, who would be patient and sympathetic, perhaps even kind in character and expressions, because these are the qualities that lead to sharing. Carol and Alessandra represent the past, the remembrance of two relationships alternating between abrupt fires and tranquil interludes, exceedingly close to a dreary monotony. Whenever he thinks of them, Josè eventually darkens. He is convinced that you cannot expect much from life, given the impossibility of managing a relationship without a guarantee of the preservation of freedom. Both passion and the mind travel on its own path, leaving it up to the imagination to put things back in place, creating, from scratch, situations and circumstances that have never happened. It’s like we are children playing cops and robbers, but we are adults, and there is no sheet large enough to build a mask and manage the reality that has been put into question. The weapon? The lie. We’ve become stupid, unforgivable liars.

At first, Josè sought refuge in a bed and breakfast and had planned to enjoy a period of reflection, but once he started, he was unable to impede his mind from contemplating. Should he accept his unfaithfulness, repent and hope for the gift of understanding from Carol, or should he melt in the lime of Alessandra? It was at this point where the attendant of the night was born, attached to the dark and to the empty streets, without considering a journey through a backcountry full of surprises. He was adapting to a trend of irresponsibility, without a single burst of pride to restore meaning to a gray life, a life devoid of any goals. The night belongs to those who know how to move between nightmares and hardships of any kind, to those who have lost the right to dream and to those without boundaries in that unlimited space where it’s impossible to find yourself in the absence of exact coordinates.

Anxiety is the host and neurosis is lurking, smiling, waiting behind a dark corner that doesn’t exist.

“De nada, senor.” The first contact was soon transformed into confidence, and now the wait is charged with soft vibrations which are never coarse and dense. Josè is entering into a new dimension. […]

– Be careful Josè. I see a woman on your path that is going to take your sleep away, and you will fall in love, but your love won’t be matched!

– She may take my sleep away, but she will never be able to give me more than Alessandra did. The prohibited, secret love, the latest in an inconclusive life, a mix of passions, deceptions and cravings always fulfilled but never reproduced in a trivial way, a giving, giving, giving until exhaustion, and the tacit desire to start all over again at the earliest opportunity.

– Remember Josè, the best doesn’t exist. You create her yourself, just for the intimate need to satisfy some hidden place in your being that drives the desire to feel alive. Perhaps you will never see her, but she will be able to tell you things that you have always wanted to hear from the person who was always close and faithful to you. She will be able to touch that unsuspecting part of you in which no one ever believed.

Excerpt from: Giuseppe Vera, Paulette Verlaine, Josè L’Amour, Amazon, 2016

Translation in English by Molton Smith III

You will find it here:

https://www.amazon.it/Jos%C3%A8-Lamour-Paulette-Verlaine/dp/1535432098

Italian version:

https://www.amazon.it/Jos%C3%A8-LAmour-Italian-Paulette-Verlaine/dp/1535100397

This article in Italian

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Gamy Moore

Gamy Moore, ovvero Paoletta, Piumetta, e chi più ne ha più ne metta... Croce e delizia della rete.
Sceneggiatrice, scrittrice, poetessa in rima.
E il mondo viveva meglio prima.

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