His body lies here beside me cold after a long illness well lived.
We had our last swim in the sea on August 28, early in the morning because he could not take the hot sun because of chemotherapy, when the beach is deserted, the pale sky, the sea flat as soon ruffled by waves minute that break in silence. Is this enough to make her feel good, to make them forget worries and struggles, and illness. It was the same calm as a child he had seen in the waters of Pirlo, the tough Valmalenco a mountain lake, where the sky was mirrored by joining the earth. He wanted me to see the Pirlo and she had shot all the interior valleys of Valtellina and climbed some icy peaks.
I had also brought in Val Mother, a narrow valley where the wild and believed to have its true roots: a few houses in ruins perched on the high side of the river Madrasco, a small abandoned cemetery where Melazzini, and other family assonant , were masters. From this valley were the proud ancestors, those who were fighting with the wind, those who fought with the iron hammer hydraulics, those who do not speak a word too often and even the essential ones. The portraits of these ancestors, such as the grandfather 'master cheesemaker' are in our room in a niche in the wall built hundreds of years before we do not know why, but it became our altar to the Lares and Penati. There's also a portrait of Uncle Bruno The Alpine has heroically taken the retreat from Russia without leaving his men and supporting her in every way, the uncle of the ironic portraits by Teresa Argentina went away to write funny stories in Valtellina dialect, pictures of Joan who lives in Japan and the Garden of Stone, Louise and his son Elvis Peruvian, and that of a school class in Peru, consisting of an old bench seat in a field to four meters high in the background of seven thousand of the Andes.
In other parts of the house, the windows of the library, there are other portraits: Freud, Nietzsche, Leopardi, Konrad, Dante, Tolstoy. Others would have made if they had at hand, such as Dostoevsky, ... Melville.
These and many others were his roots, food lines cha bring out into space, over time, but especially in the depths of the soul, in those areas where the complexity and complication of the real bow to the simplest emotions, where we find ancient fears, pain dormant. Carla stubbornly guarded these spaces from any invasion, by his own invasion. His favorite writers, explorers of the depths were used to visit these places through a third person to talk to itself, to me mate and his sons , without explicitly naming their pain.
and had to force herself to have children, to express through the flesh una speranza ed una promessa che l’animo le impediva. Prendere possesso della sua capacità di generazione è stata una fatica durata anni, e prendere possesso pieno della sua femminilità è stato ancora più difficile, è durato fino a pochi anni orsono. Negli anni dell’università la sua ritrosia era passata in proverbio, ha scoraggiato corteggiatori eccellenti con poche secche parolacce che lasciavano di stucco il pretendente che si aspettava da una persona riservata e diafana nell’aspetto parole miti e gentili. Come ‘capo’ del movimento degli studenti era così determinata che gli avversari non trovarono di meglio che scrivere sui muri gigantesche scritte ironiche on his behalf. The determination to assert their identity against any attempt to sew them wearing a suit brought to be one of the few if not the only one to leave the Scuola Normale di Pisa and voluntarily declared incompatible with a way of doing culture far from reality.
All admired his strength, his stubborn determination to assert the simple things and she could not stand him, he could not bear that others have so much confidence in her, she would not authorize anyone to do it yet because every time he did it systematically after what I called 'waves of optimism' - in reality gloomy pessimistic forecasts - with a few simple words and return to the path followed was all the more as he had doubted the opportunity to advance. And then protested, but he allows them to trust? Carla
Death is like the death of a thousand-year plan, mute and motionless witness of events that in his view, they are ephemeral and together nourished by what is happening around, the passing of the seasons, the warmth of the sun, the force of the earth. When he dies a similar plan for a long time nothing grows in the grooves once occupied by vital roots, but with time everything becomes a new life. I hope that happens for us and that those who loved her possano continuare a nutrirsi della sua forza.
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