After a bit less that four months working on a notebook, I’m finally back home. My big display, my comfortable office chair, my meaty keyboard, the beautiful views on the castle, the hills and the far mountains are there, ready to greet my return.
But I cannot decide to leave my not-so-comfy living room, with the wrong table, the wrong chair, the wrong lamp, and a modest view on a nice garden and the facing homes. But, also - with no chains. My living room is still a transitoy (maybe an impermanent) place, that gives me an idea of ‘living’ instead of ‘working’.
I need some time to familiarize again with the idea that I’m tied to a place, more than being free to return there when I want. And, before my notebook gets back to play the desktop computer, it is probably imploring a bit more days experiencing its true nature - whose name is freedom.
We watched The American last night on DVD. Set in Castel del Monte, Abruzzo, though not a happy film, it reminded me of the many restful days I’ve spent in or near Italian hills and mountains.
Thank you, Hugh and Martin, for welcoming me back. It’s nice to hear you, since I entered Europe from the UK (Heathrow). Even if something should have been changed while I was away, since my passport was checked again at Munich. Hadn’t I already returned to my community?
I’ve not yet seen the movie with Clooney, but I’ve visited the area where it was shot more or less during the same time they were shooting. The situation of those villages is a dramatic sign of the times my country is living during these years.
Martin: My studio’s windows are just five kilometers north of the “ermo colle”, and the scenary is the same of Leopardi’s lyric. As Leopardi, I’m trying to leave a hedge between this imaginative landscape and my eyes, because I want to live other worlds, other lives in my mind. The fact this run of hills looks like a theatre set (or the background of a Renaissance painting) is probably strengthening the idea of “not wanting to be put in play”.
Paolo,
Ho visto il monumento a Leopardi nel lontano ‘73 (se mi ricordo bene) durante il mio primissimo viaggio in Italia (conoscevo una ragazza di Loro Piceno). Sono tornato nelle Marche nel ‘81, ma mai piu’ dopo. Comunque, conservo un vivo ricordo del paesaggio tutto colli, piccoli villaggi con le tegole, monti, ulivi grigio muffa. Uno di questi giorni ci tornero’. Buon lavoro “in mezzo agli orti”, ma non di notte, spero, e senza la disperazione leopardiana!
Ciao, Martin.
Martin, la qualità del tuo italiano è impressionante. Di Loro non citi il vin cotto, immagino per pudore. O lo hai davvero mancato, tutto occupato con le ragazze? Se ripassi da queste parti fammi sapere, ché rimediamo.
Ciao,
Paolo
(Just joking with Martin’s omission of one of the most - ahem - inebriating aspects of my region.)
Paolo,
ti ringrazio – ma tristemente il mio italiano non è com’era. Ho notato che attraverso gli anni ho perso quella scioltezza che avevo una volta. Non c’è da meravigliarsi – sono vent’anni ch non vivo più in Italia. Per quanto riguarda il vin cotto, devo confessare che allora la ragazza mi interessava molto di più! Ho un debole per le brune …
Ciao, Martin.