(In picture: thoughts of the whaled-head man, detail, draft)

The year when it snowed in June, when World Poulation reached eight billions, when Italian Government had to ration Energy, when the Man got to the Moon again, the year when it rained all year long, and the Perpetual Greyness of the sky spreaded to leaves, to passerbys' faces, to cars chromes. The year when Antarctica extended itself up to New Zeland, the magnetic poles were inverted, the Amazons turned into a bizarre pattern of deserts and woods, Venice melted in the mud of the laguna. The year when Record Labels ceased to print CDs, Publishing Houses to print books, movie theaters to exist, restaurants to stay open in the nighttime, trams to be public, swimming pools to be public, cars to be used to go to work, clothes to be dyed, hair to grow luxuriantly (barely surviving on the heads). The year you came back from camping tanned and smiling, you had two white plastic containers with you collected from some place on some beach, and you proudly showed them to me, saying: "dad, but, are they ancient?"

(continue to part two)