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InsanityWhat is insanity?
Some say it's doing the same thing
And expecting different results
It's being different
Seeing, looking, dressing,
Not going with the crowd
As soon as you give any hint of being inspired
You're put in a straight jacket
Stuck in a padded room
And branded crazy
Right on your forehead with a hot iron
Because society assumes that creative equals crazy
How insane is that?
The Victor Tells the Story"But I suppose you already know that. The history text books must tells the stories of my evil deeds through out the years."
"Actually, I tend to stay away from history text books."
"Because in the text books, it's the victor who is telling the story."
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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