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Accetto Chudi

December 31st 2023

by Matteo F.M. Sommaruga


I am now back in Berlin, after more than a century. I am sitting in the large suite of a five star hotel along the Kudamm, not so far from the destroyed church. The memorial of WWII, but, with the insight of our modern society, it also looks like the monorail of a time when religion was still respected. Communism was apparently the main driver for the annihilation of spirituality in the common man of the West. Perhaps only apparently, because the red revolution was a flame ignited by a then marginalised sphere of intellectuals, clever enough to create a dominating lobby. However, how many have really read Marx or my even shorter books, my essays so carefully sketched after a shocking event along the streets of St Petersburg? The city that for so long brought my name. I would like to visit it, once I have solved this open question about Heidi's book. About the beliefs of the West, a clearer answer comes from the dresses, the behaviour, the appearance and the words of the persons I meet along the street. They are not subjects nor voters of a communist party anymore. Perhaps some of the youngest have been brainwashed by these green and gay lobbies, whose principles would have however collided with those of the Soviet Union. They speak English, perhaps so good as German. I am getting more and more the impression that the decline of the West has begun when Europe decided to trust the American ally. Because of us, they had no serious alternative, but they played a really silky game, with apparently no winning way out.



The art dealer


Nothing appears to happen during the last days of the year. It would be lovely to organise a flamboyant art fair, on the New Year’s Eve, perhaps on the Fiji Islands. To get profit at the same time of the local time zone and the profitable tax conditions. I can imagine the participation of the best living blue chip artists, and the release of their recent works. Gold diggers can be sure to enjoy the end of the party with an affluent collector. Perhaps I need to find a way to certify the good status of their income and wealth. It can be a service useful for sellers as well. A big question mark would raise, on which fiscal year to apply the deal. Perhaps it would be possible to opt for the most convenient choice, but it is not given. Tax collectors have become as clever as gold diggers during the most recent years. Leaving my dreams aside, I need not to forget to publish a statement about my expectations for 2024. Yet, it is difficult to make any certain prediction, but I have got the feeling that some good street artist, perhaps a female one, not necessary a nigger or a member of any so called minority, will jump faster than a bitcoin in its best performing times. Katherine Bernhardt is a certain bet, perhaps too obvious. Chat-GPT is too politically correct and risk adverse to suggest any, thus I will have to browse a lot of catalogues to find a couple of reasonable choices.



The consultant


I find myself celebrating New Years Eve nearby Milan, in Rho, where my grandfather lived and got married. Not with Helen from Corfu. She eventually never left the island, perhaps she got married to a local farmer. I need to read my grandad’s papers more carefully to find any reference to her identity. There are not so many hotels in Rho. I expected a wider selection for the city that hosts the international fair of Milan. It was not so unfortunate, because the only available room in town drove me to the remains of a former cotton mill, “The Muggiani”, or “Il Muggiani”, as Italians call the place. It is named after the previous owner, the founder of the company. An old red brick building that could be the perfect place for a modern company. The city has not found a better employment area if not for temporary visitors and a supermarket. By reading the leaflet given to me by the ever smiling receptionist, who is perhaps dreaming to work in Las Vegas instead, I discovered that the ground originally belonged to my granddad’s family. That is surprising, because I thought, I was always convinced that he was Czech. Perhaps a German speaking one, but Czech. Perhaps a German speaking one, but Czech. I have got these two different mysteries or clues to work about. What if my grandfather was the actual holder of the Heidi’s book and the Graf von Pazze only his assistant?

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In Frankfurt like Heidi, in Zuerich like Lenin

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