Literature being written today has come to be a sort of refuge for the weak, a refuge for all the things that make you pathetic and pitiful. The absence of foundation, the handful of dirt, chasing around your tail and the struggle to stand out in a literary commodity or on a website of this sort brings along, as consequence, an inexpressive writing and then, after a long period, through reciprocal encouraging, the belief that this is how things should be. The perception of literature comes like a sort of barometer communicating us whether we are close or not to the authenticity where it started from. Writers in years 2000 tend to remove concepts based on human relations in poetry, they seek to replace the ambiguity of metaphor with various forms of free expression, often playing the card of the ideal power of words, and not of their power of expression, at a level of technique and language, but, altogether, keeping the mechanics of gracility. In fact, the notion of literature exists only in appearance. The text, conceived following the patterns and rules of contemporary life, loses its primordial enthusiasm, no longer shares emotions, is no longer expressive and is not shocking. It sits nicely as a rigid and inorganic wall, which nobody moves out of the way and nobody can move on with it, beyond it. Stating an authentic literature, which can awake sleeping receptors, the spark and then the burning from the inside, not in a pejorative sense, seem absurd. And if it is not in check, literature can lead you to a catatonic state, placing you within some defective extremities, placing you clumsily among real facts, almost getting out of the so delusional, yet innocent thoughts of the contents, but always getting under your skin knowing that once it has grabbed hold of you, you can’t get away. It takes a change of focus of forces and of making the speech interior, in line with a full life, lived intensely. We want to bring another understanding of the world we are living in, to bring more life to what we write, to live out of the ordinary, and, just acknowledging our limits from the bottom of our anxiety, to write. Because human perception of literature should begin with a greater sensibility to normality, not with insisting on misery.