When the author apologizes for possible uncertainties in what he wrote:
My books are pieces of me that are left there, as legacies for other travelers in these parts of life who, like me, need to pick up bits of knowledge here and there, so that they can walk with joy, abrasions and abrasions that are bearable, the pair of immense appetite for life and very keen senses for the dazzling world we live in.
I learned that mathematical equations, differential and integral calculus, the Table of Periodicals and the conjugation of regular, irregular, defective, abundant and anomalous verbs are complicated in life, in addition to the unfathomable rules for defining a good wine, among a vast repertoire of complicating the ephemerality of our lives. So that, after all, we complicate things even more and turn our backs on scenarios in which very interesting answers to life's questions are found, except for that story of "where we came from and where we are going" (well... deep down everyone knows, but you don't face the hardness of such magnificent knowledge, do you?).
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My books bring little of the authority of science. I write them and that's it. I'm not going to look for justifications in the learned depositaries of knowledge, I write and that's it. They are day-to-day observations, during which I keep an eye on what people are doing and let my ears absorb what they say, trusting that in the back of my mind there are certainly billions of idle neurons that must take care of processing both seeing and hearing. , and with them, I learn what to say, and without them knowing, I keep the tastiest of what they produce for myself and hide it in the jars of memory, as if saving coins for future use in any emergency. So I continue to gather what, at a given moment, as unpredictable as the flight of butterflies, is all ready to be sewn into a text and composed into yet another legacy. I'm sure someone, even just one, will have to read what the seams have brought together and fix something in their life. I'll never know, but just thinking about that possibility is already worth the work of extracting the jars and patient sewing.
The book started like what I will do again these days of October 2019: it is necessary to restart a company, swallowed by the years of recession and bad people and by the direction of our country's traffic. Before the new beginning of now, there was a new beginning there, in the middle of the summer of the year 2.000, when it was known that the world had not ended, according to the interpretations of the shadow prophets, but that it was necessary to remake a small consulting firm, rescuing -a of a project that has run out. And both then and now, starting over was and is an act of erasing what is nothing but the past (I like that expression…), starting with almost nothing and moving on.
This book is an act of letting go of what is no longer useful and of seeking not only a rereading or a revision of what has been done, but also someone trying to find something worthwhile in the rubble: starting over, for this author, is an attitude of courage to let go of what didn't work and build the plane with him in flight!
Before the final point, there ahead, I hope that you are already in you, dear reader, installed the frenzy of an adventure in which everything is 100% you: the script, the protagonism and the happy ending!
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