My childhood was a dangerous place
I had a great time, but for a curious child, the world has always been and always will be a dark and scary place.
My childhood is one of the most recurring themes in my dreams.
Almost every day I have to deal with something unresolved from the past. Sometimes the adventure is magical, and my wish is that the dream never ends. At other times, it seems impossible to find the exit door.
Playing time was always terrible. In my hands, every toy got broken.
I couldn’t resist the temptation to see how they worked, and it irritated my parents. They thought I was despising the gift I had been given. They never understood I actually liked it so much that I wanted to go beyond just playing.
The desire to get “inside” the toys somehow made me destroy them.
I was delighted, but my parents were shocked by my attitude.
My curiosity was much stronger than the risk of being punished or not getting any more toys.
Maybe that’s why I got fewer and fewer gifts during my life.
I remember that I ended up inventing new toys with all the objects in my house.
And when they weren’t available, I used wall plaster, clouds, textures, and reflections in the mirror or in the water. Everything was good material for me not to stop exploring the world around me.
My curiosity, as dangerous as it was, never stopped me from dodging the systems to face life.
The world is dangerous, it’s true. But the only antidote to…
