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cielo, non ha bisogno di padre sulla terra
. He who serves God in heaven,
needs no father on Earth. Maybe he didn’t say it that way, maybe I
misheard him. But how could I love this man?
The pew squeaked furiously as I twisted my hips, drawing a sharp
breath as I rose. My feet trod heavily upon the stone floor, the echoes
engulfed by the constant pattering of the rain and the waiting gazes
of my pursuers. ‘
Andiamo
.’ Corporate habit drew a ruler down my
spine, and learned respect bowedmy head; the profound atmosphere
like a weight, heavy on my shoulders. Closer, slower, further. What if
I ran from here, would they remember my name? ‘
Pazzo
! Be a man!’
Onwards.
H
ere
is what
i
believe
to
be
true
: my father lived a life of
dissatisfaction.
Una vita inutile
, striving in vain, in hope. Reaping the
jewels of the sea, warmed by the sun, caressed and lulled by the soft
kiss of the water and the gentle rocking of the waves. Born and bred
in a quiet town, air thick with tradition and comfort. He could not
have this
vita
for his only son.
Chi ha una retta coscienza possiede un regno
.
His own desire leads every man. I suppose his was to know that his
son was walking tall amongst the great buildings of Roma, amidst
the smoke, the sights and the sounds of this greatness. This high life.
Un collegio
was his idea of my escape from his destiny. From seven
in the morning until the afternoon, my days operated with repetition
and precision. The scarce moments of silence and serenity were
treasured. In these times, I learned to shut out the world around me,
I discovered that I could escape. Behind closed eyes I would wander
to the sea, where I marvelled at the glistening sunlight dancing upon
the crystal water. The salt air would cleanse my lungs, and the sun
would warm my skin. Upon the horizon, the boats of the
pescatori
would glide towards the shore, laden with the morning’s catch. My
father among them, hand gripping the splintered rim of his vessel.
He would smile and wave at me as he returned.
The polished wood was cool to touch. With the help of three local
men, we lifted the lid and placed it gently upon the stone floor.
There he lay, in utter tranquility, sleeping with the dead. His was the
only face towards the heavens. He took with himknowledge, wisdom
that only age bestows. Ihadbelievedonce that itwas the responsibility
of the old to pass on this wisdom, so that they may be enlightened,
live with fewer regrets. But he was selfish, he did not give me this.
Roma
has disappointed me. If you ask me why, I would say that it
Il Silenzio E
Il Sentimento,
L’emozione
E La Paura
(Silence And
Sentiment,
Emotion
And Fear)
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