I walk with bowed head, looking at the tip of my gym shoes smeared with mud, as I fear that my steps might awaken the souls of the past who have stayed in this magical place. But I just leave confused traces where the grass does not cover the passage, which overlaps with those of a dog or perhaps a plump cat.
The scents of grass and wet earth are tinged, but most of all the acrid smell of smoke emerges. The clock overlooking the stairs to the park marks 2:00 but it is almost night. Who knows for how many years has stopped working? With the imagination I can imagine the noble women who were facing from the balcony, to spy who wandered down below in the park philosophizing. I smile at this bizarre idea while I try to remain vigilant, ready to flee at any sudden noise or shadow.
The yellowish façade’ plaster is crumbling, eroded by centuries while ivy is a reddish patch that looks like stale blood, violently clinging to the iron bars of the windows with half-closed shutters. Who knows what else is hidden from view of the curious sparrows that have woven bushy stems under those baggy parapets! Fragile nests, unusual homes of winged and ephemeral dreams. Those of once, those that will be, the same as ever, those of everyone.
And here everything is decadent and deprived of its original beauty: those Baroque frills are now just a tangle torn in several places. How could it be so neglected in the last century? What will become of this park? What will succeed in pursuing the thirst for wealth of those who wanted, even here, to speculate on a property even on the list of cultural heritage? The thought flows around and without effort sees the previous facts in the region… so many… too many!
The evening sun is hidden behind thick clouds dark and menacing, ready to be torn to unleash their liquid fury above the ground already soaked and slippery. The swallows fly low, almost to verge on the top of the old trees that will be soon cut.
Here read the whole story – qui leggi l’intero racconto
Claudine Giovannoni 
Adoro anch’io le parole di quell’uomo e Siddhartha è stato il libro che mi ha aperto al mondo, rivelandomi ciò che mi apparteneva.Anche le tue parole, qui, sono splendide come le sue.Grazie per l’emozione. ❤
Grazie cara Susanna… sono molto battagliera, con le parole, ma ciò che accade nel nostro piccolo paese è lo specchio di quanto purtroppo avviene nel mondo. Il breve racconto ha sicuramente fatto imbestialire chi l’ha letto… ma un po’ di chiaroveggenza non guasta! Anche se, in tutta onestà, spero dal più profondo del mio cuore che casa Camuzzi venga risparmiata dalla selvaggia sete di danaro… Un bacio :-)c
My dear Claudine, how are your travelings? Where are you now? Hope you and your beautiful family are having a wonderful time! much love + hugs xxxxx 🙂 m
My dear, back home, again… I sent you an e-mail at your @ath.forthnet.gr. Pls. can you see if there will be a chance for us 😉 Kisses :-)c
Oh, no! I didn’t get anything!!! Would you like to send it to my gmail account: marinawaxcraft@gmail.com? xxxx
A lot of it got lost in translation, but I loved the gist of this post Claudine.Thought provoking as always.
I put the english translation… for you to enjoy, my dearest! (As you know, I’m not so proud of my translations… I know, I know… but I keep to try my best! 🙂 hugs claudine
Ahhh….sorry, I couldn’t make any of this post out.xxx
I just added the translation! Kisses to you too, dear Dina! :-)c
Ahhh…I love this…especially, “Those of once, those that will be, the same as ever, those of everyone.”…you have such a fantastic way with words, that fires the imagination, shame on me for only being able to read English, and given my grandmother was Italian… but she died before she could teach me the language…thanks for the translation.xxx
Your description as well as the photo adds to the mystic. Siddhartha is book I really like.
Thank you for the translation.
It takes very litle time to look around us and see the beauty of Nature! But the greed of men are capable to destroy is such a profanatory way, that you can’t that accept it… I like to be treacherous on these topics, although some people might get upset. For this, in truth, even so I write my protests! Siddhartha is not only a book (and you know it well)… is a Door to peace and happiness: I guess H. Hesse wanted to make it easy to read for many people in Europe whom (at this time) didn’t know much about buddhism.
Sernity :-)c
Best wishes and kind regards 🙂