One must imagine Sisyphus resigned to his country’s fate.

The film is created by Kelly Sauvage Moyer and Hunter Sauvage, starring Robert P. Moyer and Annie.

Elevation is more than just a word. It embodies the essence of growth, progress, and the continuous journey toward excellence. Whether in personal life, technology, art, or society, the desire to rise above, to reach new heights, is a defining feature of human experience. This article explores the many dimensions of elevation, illustrating how striving for higher standards shapes individuals and the world around them.

Personal Elevation

At its core, elevation begins within the individual. Personal growth is the foundation of every achievement. It involves learning from experiences, overcoming challenges, and continually refining one’s skills and mindset. Discipline, persistence, and a commitment to self-improvement are key drivers of this ascent.

Consider the lives of pioneers, inventors, and visionaries. They demonstrate that personal elevation is rarely instantaneous; it is the result of consistent effort and resilience. By embracing failure as a stepping stone rather than a setback, individuals unlock their potential and elevate themselves beyond limitations.

Technological Elevation

Elevation is not limited to personal development; it extends into the realm of innovation. Technology exemplifies humanity’s desire to transcend boundaries. From supercars that combine speed with engineering precision to airplanes that shrink the vastness of the world, technology lifts human capability to unprecedented levels.

Artificial intelligence, renewable energy, and space exploration are prime examples of how human ingenuity transforms obstacles into opportunities. Elevation in technology reflects a broader principle: the pursuit of perfection and the drive to enhance life through invention.

Cultural and Artistic Elevation

Art and culture provide another dimension of elevation. Music, literature, painting, and architecture inspire and challenge the mind, fostering creativity and introspection. They encourage us to see the world from new perspectives and appreciate beauty in complexity.

Through engagement with art, individuals elevate their consciousness. The refinement of taste and critical thinking enriches the human experience, demonstrating that elevation is not only about material achievement but also about the depth of understanding and emotional resonance.

Societal Elevation

Communities and societies also experience elevation. Education, scientific discovery, and cooperative efforts enable societies to progress and innovate. Cultural exchange and collaboration foster collective growth, raising standards and unlocking new possibilities.

Societal elevation emphasizes that individual advancement and community progress are interconnected. A society that values knowledge, innovation, and compassion cultivates an environment where its members can rise together, achieving heights that would be impossible alone.

Challenges on the Path to Elevation

The journey toward elevation is rarely smooth. Obstacles, setbacks, and uncertainties test determination and resilience. Fear of failure, self-doubt, and external pressures can hinder progress. However, these challenges also serve as catalysts for growth.

Overcoming adversity strengthens character and clarifies purpose. True elevation comes not from avoiding difficulties but from confronting them and continuing upward with resolve and vision.

Conclusion

Elevation represents the human pursuit of excellence, growth, and transformation. It spans personal development, technological innovation, artistic expression, and societal progress. It challenges us to rise, refine, and evolve.

By embracing elevation, we commit to a journey without a final destination—one where each step upward reveals new horizons and possibilities. The pursuit of elevation inspires, motivates, and reminds us that there is always a higher plane to reach, a higher self to become, and a higher world to create.

Author: My name is Saparov Akbar, and I was born on February 24, 2005, in Jizzakh district, Jizzakh region, Uzbekistan.

After finishing school, I chose to continue my path at Samarkand’s Economic and Service University (SamISI), where I am now a second-year student majoring in Tourism and Hospitality. Along the way, I’ve gained valuable volunteering experience at the airport, which gave me a chance to see the real world of service, communication, and leadership.

I always try to push myself beyond one field. I’ve earned certificates in Photoshop, After Effects, and Premiere Pro, and I also have achievements in sports, having taken part in regional and republic competitions.

But my real passions run deeper. I am in love with music — every genre has a place in my heart, but melancholic hip-hop, rock, and rage are where I feel the strongest connection. I’m also fascinated by technology, whether it’s computers, laptops, or smartphones, I love exploring their models and characteristics. Languages are another side of me: besides my native Uzbek, I am fluent in English and Russian, and I’m working toward learning Spanish, Arabic, Chinese, and other popular languages.

Another passion of mine is cars — I even lead a channel dedicated to them, because for me, the automotive world is more than just machines, it’s pure inspiration.

Still, beyond all of this, my biggest dream is to find myself — in religion, in humanity, in life — and to be worthy of being called a real human being. More than anything, I want to make my parents proud. And through it all, the person who inspires me the most is my mother — her love, trust, and care are the light that guides me every single day.

MUM, I AM AN AUTISTIC

Mum, i’m an autistic, not a municipal transport company autistic

i know in your mother’s heart you always dreamed of settling down as a state employee,

without the worry of a time card to punch and unemployment

doing eighteen hours a week, three months off, with the anxiety of defiscalising repetition.

Ma, i am an autistic, bad luck has decided to crown, me, as a writer

no, ma, i don’t write therapeutic remedies, no invoice, like the doctor,

i have explained to you a hundred times that i deal in endiads and alliterations

i dialogue, every night, with ghosts and communicate with martians,

and, by now, like the Villa, no ma, not the baker of via Mentana

i mix latin, dialect and the average italian as a seasoned courtesan.

Ma, i’m autistic, i speak in distich, or in anapestic,

but go on, you understand, it’s not like i’ve become spastic,

at most flexible and elastic, says so even the troika,

thrown into life with a rocket like i was Laika,

victim of the artistic environment’s lack of communication

nailed, backwards, on my cenotaph the epitaph: “!Here lies an autistic man”,

since no one can catch me in any verse

or ma, don’t bother me, i’m a deviant.

BEYOND THE BRILLO BOX

My research on the form of writing rises above the Brillo Box,

i throw my verses in the strongbox as if they were in Fort Knox,

start-up, repetition, reproduction give a life sentence to the originality

of the centenarian editors of magazines now forgetful of all abrasiveness,

after all, you know, dentures should not be solicited by intelligent concepts,

by dint of accepting canine verses carmina dant panem only to their teeth,

if we, forty year-old teenagers, have to do Professor Birkermaier’s diet

for them, octogenarian children, it would be time to diagnose a shred of Alzheimer’s.

The current fashion of the granted critic is to bark against the successes of minimalism

milanese or Roman, inn istèss, and we, 1970s ghosts, in search of the coveted minimum space,

because to change the world we could useful the energetic vigour of maximalism,

reading verses in rollian endecasyllables, in 2016, one feels like the victim of an odyssey in agony,

and the punishment of our no-future generations is to make the avant-garde in their forties

intent on claiming a Lebensraum that does not end in Anschluss,

we Heermann condemned by flexibility to never blossom into arimanni,

find ourselves re-knotting catheters to old specialists in trobar clus .

What do we have to do in order to achieve our fifteen seconds of fame

show our asses on Barbara D’Urso, edit the cultural columns of L’Unità

or patent rhymes that you mere mortals wouldn’t even dare to imagine

barking dog does not sleep and asleep – as you would like us – does not help us bite,

is woken by the caresses of an emir the late-modern Sleeping Beauty by cocaine

available to suck US gal of black gold like a petrol pump,

ladies, transgenders and gentlemen annuntio vobis gaudium magnum the fairytale is over

the generations beyond the Brillo Box will have to nibble leftovers food under the laden table

THE BALLAD OF LUIGINO: SAVINGS BANK

Luigino, sixty-eight years old, was killed

strangled by a ‘save-bank’ decree invented by a state

victim, always interested, of the fear of sanctions established by the EU with an ordinance

and uncaring, on the other, when sanctions came for years on the absence of citizenship income,

a camorrist state that throws itself at bailing out banks

and citizens are left to hope for the intervention of the Malebranche group,

in the Malebolge of the italian credit system, as in the case of Banca Etruria,

130,000 idiots to save the bank, and nine or ten to share slices of watermelon.  

An Enel employee, Luigino, not a senior manager of a subsidiary holding company,

go figure out the difference between an ordinary bond and a subordinated one,

that if one, without his knowledge, is liable for the debts of a large capital company,

at least he should have the right, once a year, to have brunch in a Ferrari,

the Ferrari, or the Jaguar, of the CEO expert in deceit

that, if he were Nippon, would turn a hanging into harakiri,

because the manager is European or American he has exchanged shame for courage

the courage to continue, under a new name, to collect medals of fraud and agiotage.

Luigino died with a rope around his neck

like the millions of wretches destined for slaughterhouse,

with a click from a bunker in Berlin or London the super-capital

erases an entire life by turning the consumer into a pig,

nothing is thrown away, of the consumer, the consumed-consumer is thrown away

in the Caliphate, at least,it takes three minutes for a westerner to be slaughtered,

not sixty-eight years, torn apart by the alternation of bail-out or bail-in, like slot-machines,

tel disi mi, bilòtt, inn tücc bàll would have sentenced, with a serious air, my grandmother Ines.

THEY ARE ALL BULLSHIT

The new EU directives, Deutschland über alles,

direct the leaders of each member state to cure their herpes

of failing banks with the money of the good people,

who have nothing to do with bank boards.

The infamous bank bail-in has been in force since the beginning of the year

to be interpreted by holding the criminal code in the right hand and a dictionary in the left,

every saver – vile vintage breed – will have to empty flasks of En,

in the fear that the plutocrats will screw our ‘five pippi’ like Belen’s hardcore movie,

shareholder, subordinated bondholder, ordinary bondholder, current account holder

willing to go pantyless with the nonchalance of the abused naturist,

will see their hubris lubricated in not contributing to the rise of credit consumption

while waiting for the breakthrough of their interbank deposit protection funds.

This of the European Union is a truly hyper-liberal trick

covering the banker’s hole with the asshole of every current account holder,

everyone is capable of acting like a faggot with other people’s ass

bailing out millionaires with the money of the unfortunate is not a job for scoundrels,

after having divided the cake they blame the stock market crash in Kuala Lumpur

and the savers to go the way of the Thousand in Count Cavour’s cunning strategy.

Let us get the concept straight: if the Garbatella’charcutier goes bankrupt

will those who bought caciotta and mortadella also be involved in his debts?

THE BALLAD OF POLITICALLY INCORRECT

If you end up electrocuted on the road to Damascus

in today’s conditions it will have been the logos of a russian missile,

i, fruit of a Madonna conceived by a Bergamo’s butcher

i write, maalox, emitting verses in reflux acid,

i’m not thirsty for fame or hungry for silk

with rough syntagms it does’t print a degree as a «poet»,

in Italy Fornero has increased the brain-drain

either those who remain are headless, or cling to the Bacchelli.

Damascus, the metaphor of transition, the city of the Nabateans,

today victim of the conversion of hand grenades into money,

the multinationals of weapons study the marketing of the wounded

the multinational pharmaceutical companies study the marketing of the malnourished sick

the multinationals of the Northern European Union study to reduce the debt

to the southern nations of Europe that transform themselves into refugee camps,

the multinationals of this shit study how to cover this horrible hard film

outsourcing immense multitudes of homeless people in the streets of Milan.

The universal Catholic Church is struggling with the adoptions of consenting faggots,

so much so that the IOR bankers act like fags with the holes of our current accounts,

indulgence to hulls, smugglers and skilleds, and the italian catches it in the behind,

it would be enough to unload 300,000 fake syrians on the churchyard of St. Peter’s Square

let the good Pope Francis support them all, with the sacred gold of faith,

because if Padre Pio had been on the throne he would have given us a manner rough,

kicking the asses of libyan prisoners, hotel expenses, who ask for wi-fi

and a citizen’s income for the italian who sleeps in his car ruined by the usual puppeteers.

If you end up electrocuted on the road to Damascus

or a] you are Paul of Tarsus or b] you are the CEO of Esso,

in the Italy Toyland they blind you with the shares of Monte del Pasco

Pinocchio, oh, by dint of jerking off he has become a fool,

in the Paschi, horny maremma, they buttfuck you with the abigeat

and the creative balance of multinationals is never a crime,

if Monti sharks you or they steal ten rams from you, you don’t get pissed off

from the raffle of those who grab you will be rewarded with a tax bill.

Ivan Pozzoni was born in Monza in 1976. He introduced Law and Literature in Italy and the publication of essays on Italian philosophers and on the ethics and juridical theory of the ancient world; He collaborated with several Italian and international magazines. Between 2007 and 2024, different versions of the books were published: Underground and Riserva Indiana, with A&B Editrice, Versi Introversi, Mostri, Galata morente, Carmina non dant damen, Scarti di magazzino, Qui gli austriaci sono più severi dei Borboni, Cherchez la troika e La malattia invettiva con Limina Mentis, Lame da rasoi, with Joker, Il Guastatore, with Cleup, Patroclo non deve morire, with deComporre Edizioni and Kolektivne NSEAE with Divinafollia. He was the founder and director of the literary magazine Il Guastatore – «neon»-avant-garde notebooks; he was the founder and director of the literary magazine L’Arrivista; he is the editor and chef of the international philosophical magazine Información Filosófica. It contains a fortnight of autogérées socialistes edition houses.

He wrote 150 volumes, wrote 1000 essays, founded an avant-garde movement (NéoN-avant-gardisme, approved by Zygmunt Bauman), and wrote an Anti-manifesto NéoN-Avant-gardiste. This is mentioned in the main university manuals of literature history, philosophical history and in the main volumes of literary criticism. His book La malattia invettiva wins Raduga, mention of the critique of Montano et Strega. He is included in the Atlas of contemporary Italian poets of the University of Bologne and is included several times in the major international literature magazine, Gradiva. His verses are translated into 25 languages. In 2024, after six years of total retrait of academic studies, he return to the Italian artistic world and melts the NSEAE Kolektivne (New socio/ethno/aesthetic anthropology) [https://kolektivnenseae.wordpress.com/].

LET ME IN 

Soul in a fatal position.

Encapsulated in the midst of

metamorphosis.

A border difficult to penetrate.

Varied feelings that you don’t know.

Ode in homage to life.

Heroic song of philosophy.

A poet who reflects and meditates.

Causes of a heartfelt allegory.

Allow the bud to burst.

Don’t avoid looking into life.

Let me enter your soul.

You won’t regret it.

Teresa Nocetti was born in Montevideo, capital of the Oriental Republic of Uruguay. She has been a retired teacher for seven years and is a mother and grandmother. She loves to travel, get to know different cultures, read and talk.

Since 2017, she has been a member of the group of international writers “Junto por las Letras,” counting hundreds of participants from different languages to date. In 2018, she published “La visita de Perseo”. She’s published in the anthologies: “Women on the brink of the abyss” (collection), “Vida de Piedra”, “When letters mature”, “A story for a smile” Volume Three, “Uniendo Fronteras” (Bolivia). In 2019 she was awarded a Special Mention from the Outstanding Women in Culture for her cultural trajectory and human values.

As of 2020, her works have been virtual. She continues to participate actively in the Virtual Book Fairs, in the virtual book Immortales, and in all the proposals of the “Juntos por las Letras” Group as Cultural Manager. They will publish her next book: “Sinuous Soul.”

LET’S  PLANT A TREE

Let’s plant a tree

Deep in the earth

This gives pure air

It’s my greatest wish.

We can participate

And almost without realizing it

Take care of our land

So that we can enjoy

the National Parks.

Like the finest pearl

More beautiful and more valuable

This is the divine land

I don’t think of anything else.

Let’s keep the air clean

Also the land and the water.

There’s no time to lose

Tomorrow will be too late.

Nidia Amelia García, from Buenos Aires, Argentina, is a writer and an active member of Juntos por las Letras (Together for Letters). She has participated in numerous virtual events in Uruguay, Paraguay, Bolivia, Spain, Colombia, Portugal, Nigeria, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, and elsewhere. She has also contributed to literary anthologies such as “Books of the Immortals” and “Anthology of the 50 Poets of the World 2022.”

RAIN

The gentle rain

slips through my window

and the poem springs forth

from the depths of the past

It dances on the vine leaves

and is lost in a bubble

fresh as a tear.

My verse softens

to walk the paths

of nostalgia

and smiles happily

with your warm smile.

My verse smells the scent of your hair

and nestles in your arms

like in a dove’s nest

fragile, in love.

In a useless song

that never expects

the coup de grâce

of the immutable huntress

my verse stops dreaming

and slips through my window again

While the rain, or I don’t know the tears

wet the page on which it is written…

Born in Rosario, Santa Fe Province, Argentina, she is a National Normal Teacher. Professor of Literature and holds a Bachelor’s degree in Literature from the Faculty of Humanities and Arts at the University of Rosario, Argentina. Writer: narrator, poet, and essayist. She has participated in numerous national and international anthologies. She belongs to the cultural collectives Juntos por las Letras (Together for Letters), chaired by Mirta Ramírez (Chaco, Argentina); Puente de Palabras del Mercosur (Bridge of Words of Mercosur), directed by Gladys López Pianesi (Rosario, Argentina); Mosaicos y Letras (Mosaics and Letters), directed by Teresa Ávila (Córdoba, Argentina); and Cien poetas por la Paz (One Hundred Poets for Peace), whose mentor, Verónica Bianchi, resides in Córdoba, Argentina.

She has received national and international awards for her work and career: Estrella del SUR (Uruguay), Gaviota de Plata (Silver Seagull), and Obelisco de Oro (Alexandra Foundation, Buenos Aires). First Prize for Fiction. Ediciones Anka, Buenos Aires 2024. Alfonsina Storni Award for her novel RUFINA by Mercedes SADE, Buenos Aires. She participated in all the virtual book fairs with various national and international cultural groups, presenting books, reading her own poems, and giving presentations on authors from each region. And she participated in person at the Book Fairs of Buenos Aires, Rosario, and Córdoba. Her poems were included in all the LIBROS INMORTALES (Immortal Books) published by Mirta Ramírez, which feature national and international poetry and visual artists, as well as in the magazine published by Juntos por las Letras: TOTHEM. She has published: A TIME TO LIVE (short stories and poems) RUFINA (novel), now in its second edition. Selected by the Córdoba Legislature for its 2025 Reading Plan LIKE WATER (poetry collection)

When I Stop Being Myself

When I stop being myself

I’m always myself

But there are people determined

To find flaws in the milk…

I’m kind, empathetic, and charismatic

But there are people

who, with words or actions

overcome my desire to distance myself…

They are people who love

To poke at the wound

And continue to widen the wound…

And yes, I’m human and I react

And I stop being myself for a moment…

To endure until I’m sick of it

It’s not right

Because the explosion

can leave relationships mortally

wounded and the dead don’t rise…

Mirta Liliana Ramírez has been a poet and writer since she was 12 years old. She has been a Cultural Manager for more than 35 years. Creator and Director of the Groups of Writers and Artists: Together for the Letters, Artescritores, MultiArt, JPL world youth, Together for the letters Uzbekistan 1 and 2. She firmly defends that culture is the key to unite all the countries of the world. She works only with his own, free and integrating projects at a world cultural level. She has created the Cultural Movement with Rastrillaje Cultural and Forming the New Cultural Belts at the local level and also from Argentina to the world.