Postoristoro isn’t a chronicle of the damages caused by substance use disorder, nor a fancy aesthetic of high, also this is not about youth.
Instead it was, it is, about frightening narratives.

This is dedicated to all foil, pipes, bags, syringes left by a park bench, on construction sites, railway stations or behind bushes and bins: they feel like beings who are never meant to be mentioned, even seen (though we did). Cousins of the fairy-tale gnomes that are visible only to children, or rather micro pointy ogres ready to carry them away in a heartbeat. The legends were told more or less this way: “they camouflage in the grass, invisible until you feel that light pinch. Viruses sleep on their needles. Organs are an environment that fill them with sense, otherwise left alone in their own absurdity. Like microscopical stray pets. If you stare, they will jump you”. Those who struggled with addiction were allowed to visit those unbelievable creatures and join hidden sub-societies of needles living in lemon skin huts feeding on the remainders of highs. Superspreaders, coercing the weakest spirits into a no future will, first ride is free. At each treasure spotted on the ground: “is that it, is that another shape for it, am I in danger? Remember, be afraid of things!” Does an addiction come necessarily from something that enters the body? We have compulsive behaviours, compulsive coexistence, the compulsive life of other compulsive organism, so as the breath of plants or the buzz of bees.

Hence, there are parasites …I meant Parasols! May protect you in that Postoristoro dehors, from UVs and ODs. Parasols made of liberalism, brands and prosperity on credit, under which the legitimacy of life experience is sheltered from sunburn. SPF unit of measurement: a neighbour’s envy. Stories from those Years of Lead (anni di piombo), the symbiotic combat of ideologies, their parasitism and the fuckyous (Emilia Paranoica: Pazienza, Tondelli, CCCP, full daylight alu foil). Provinces were hurt and soaked after a hailstorm of opioids and a desire for fur coats of the working class. Some were proposed to settle for a certain wellbeing (was this the 80s? I remember this), expensive long sleeves to cover bruises of squashed veins. Almost out of a sudden, underprivileged families were offered goods unaffordable until then. Religion and opium to the people, for a high is a hitchhike on absurdity. Excuse me, that cherub shot a seductive spike. Cupid here got me onto a bizarre tour.