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The Sentence-Anna Akhmatova


















I have a lot to do today / necessary to kill all the way memory / you need the soul to stone / you need to learn to live again. "

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about the beauty of imperfection

In a world that theorizes wars "smart" goals "targeted", barbarism is not formed by the destruction, but by construction. This book is about the nostalgia of lost objects and places, speaks of negligence that man has for things that are his destiny, speaks of the violence that modern technology on our work places and our world, the quiet walk in a country lane, the courtyards of abandoned, rain dripping on the glass. Are the poor things that testify to a lost world whose traces are visible when the fabric of our lives.

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Mens sana-first steps ..















V. Van Gogh First Steps 1889


"" Every journey begins with the first step .. ""

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Why I like Hopper ....

E. Hopper, Cape Cod Morning (1950), oil on canvas.

I often think of a painting by Hopper to express a feeling, impression, a thought not completely defined. Define a painter for a non-specialist is like going into an unknown place without the necessary points of reference, but art is not just for art critics, not even art critics. So I try to explain why I like Hopper.

is the painter of the windows bow windows, bay windows with curtains fluttering open, half closed or empty rooms on the sea.

is the painter of non-places-places: lockers train, waiting rooms, service stations with or without the presence of men. But where there are people are people waiting, waiting someone, they think of something that you know it. Why are people like you.

also paints landscapes of extraordinary beauty: serene, enlightened, in which man is there but not seen. There is the sea, often. And there are lights where you know that somewhere there is a window looking out to some man or woman who looks around.

But it is also painter of scenes that tell: pictures photographs that appear to give an idea of \u200b\u200ba whole life behind. You could probably tell you who the people depicted in certain scenes, to say that links to one another and explain what motivated you to be there where the painter sees ....

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Hanna Arendt - Eichmann in Jerusalem



















Thought is not knowledge; is the ability to discern good from evil
, the beautiful from the ugly ..

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Alda Merino-soul love




I do not need money.
I need to hear
of words, carefully chosen words,
those thoughts of flowers, roses
of these admissions,
dreams that inhabit the trees,
Lyrics that do the dancing statues,
of stars whispering in the ears of lovers ....
I need poetry,
this magic burns the heaviness of words,
that evokes emotions and those new




soul has its own shelter as the temple of love un'avarizia earthly gods can not touch, but the soul is also a word, the word unconscious. E 'wrong to identify the unconscious with the temple of the soul is another season, is another food, we feed on things unrelated to human speech, things that do not yet have reason to be, things that hiss like snakes and instead are angels of light.
From soul in love with Alda Merini

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Youecenar M-When I make bread, I think ...

must learn again to love the human condition what is, accept its limitations and risks, have a direct relationship with things, give up our tenets of the party, of country, class, religion, all hard-liners and therefore all harbingers of death. When I make bread, I think the people who did check the grain, I think of the profits that artificially inflate the price, the technocrats who have failed the quality - not that the recent data are necessarily bad, but the fact is that are placed at the service of greed which is certainly bad, and that most of them exist only in virtue of large concentrations of forces that are full of potential dangers. I think those who have no bread, and those who have too, I think the earth and sun that make the plants grow. I'm an idealist and materialist at the same time. The so-called idealist sees no bread, no bread prices, and the material for a curious paradox, it ignores what it means that something immense and divine call "matters."

M. Yourcenar, For your eyes open , Bompiani, Milan

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The Case of Irene Nemirovsky-

A suitcase can contain many things. But the suitcase that Irène Némirovsky's daughters, Denise and Elisabeth, will be brought back after the death of their parents contained something very valuable: a mother's manuscript and notes. It was the suitcase that her husband had given her daughter desperate because the jealously guarded when he was arrested. The father had hoped that both the return of his wife and that he had not realized that "arrest and deportation" meant "death." The father who had asked to take the place of his wife in labor camp because she was in poor health. Soon after he was arrested.

And Denise also wanted to stop by the teacher that will be saved: the hide in the space between her bed and the wall.

The sisters entrusted to the nurse, spend the last period of the war always on the run, chased by French police than the Nazis and will always be protected from people who will take care of them: two Jewish children, orphaned and sick refugees in cellars and attics and boarding. We will, however, rejected by the grandmother who hunt them screaming that if their parents were dead, grandchildren he remained for the orphanage.

Denise and Elisabeth survive the war and throughout this period never leave the bag and preserved with love and dedication, but without having the courage to read anything

"Appearance - says Denise - that the owner of the suitcase to come back read his manuscript in person. I did not know that would survive. It 's a bit like when you open the mail, addressed to no, not yours and not the laws. So for me it was the suitcase. My only task was to keep it. "

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Marina Tsvetaeva Letters 1909 -1925


A long, long time - since childhood, since I remember myself, I seemed to want to be loved.
Now I know that I do not need love, I need to understand .. And what you call love (jealousy, sacrifice) to keep Serbia in the other ..
I can love the person in a single spring day, I prefer a birch tree.
never forget Comi made me angry, this spring, a poet, a charming creature, who, walking with me for the Kremlin, without looking at the Moskva river and cathedrals, I talked incessantly about me. I told him: "How can you not understand that the sky is a thousand times bigger than me, as you may think that in such a gionata I can think of your love.
I want instead of lightness, freedom, understanding, do not hold anyone and that no one stops me. My whole life is a love story with my soul, with the city where I live, with the tree at the edge of the road, the air-con.
And I'm infinitely happy.

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On April I recall.
heart overflowed from the walls like wisteria.
my steps wandered drunk and safe
wind and brought them flowers. "

SERGIO SOLMI," From the book by Mario Rossetti, Poems, 1950


"April is the cruellest month; ago born
lilacs from the ground asleep, and
mixes memory and desire, stirring
dried roots with spring rain. "

TS Eliot," The Waste Land ", 1922

"in April, the month cruel."

Vinicius de Moraes, "Sonnet of May," Book of Sonnets, 1967

"Do not go back in April each year
bare, blooming, singing,
on his white horse?"

Juan Ramon Jimenez, "Epitaph of a boy who died in April," Eternity, 1917

"Under the sky of April, my peace
is uncertain. The green light is now
change in the wind a whim. "

Sandro Penna, "Under the sky of April, "Poems, 1931

" April looks out, burn, burn the leaves
written on the sheets just written.
So quiet. The cruel month. It
April travels on strange rainbows. "

Roberto Roversi, "Italy is buried under the snow, 1984

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Sofija Jakovlevna Parnok "A long-lived, loving freedom





long lived, loving freedom,

Thinking about God rather than face bird

Just taking the flight on the flight ... He remembered

me to the Lord, - and behold,

soul rose in me, like a flame,

All brightened. - I found thee

to dissolve in you and be born again

For other days, to renewed heights