The mist binding the silver leaves. Argent drops sprinkling off the sea breeze.
I sweat my way up the invisible path breaking through the olive groves.
Pregnant branches brush against my dry skin. Tiny oval fruits getting ready to be wed.
Soon white nets will dress them up into a dreamy winter landscape
Only then will the elves come out on the terraces to start their festive dance....
Like Dolcedo Italy lies in a particular position. As a hybrid creature myself I cannot help but think of it as a fortunate advantageous point. Italy is nor West or East, not South or North not Rich or Poor. It could be all or none of them. That might be the reason of Italian lack of assertiveness, a typical Levantine skill!
Italy is mediterranean! Not making the most of its luck.
"In the end we are levintines!" Would surrender in a sorry nod my friend Gianni.
While jogging to clear up my head I started to wonder if everything I wrote so far on Casa Didun does make any sense.
I am aware of the many contradictions that muddle my narration. In the end I am hoping that someone will be able to read through those entangled lines and weave some sense out this skein.
A bundle of words are an emotional loving attack. In my case a critique to the excesses of the past. A critique to the new excesses of the future. A critique to the leading examples today.
More than ever, today, I fear the imminent explosion. The excesses clashing with the realities of the unprivileged ones: young people, the poor and the environment.
Years of history have not made us wiser. We have instead evolved into estranged beings.
There is a huge big mixed bag out there. Have we reached the right maturity to pick and choose the good from the bad?
A bit of this and a bit of that. A bit of good and a bit of bad.
What are you doing?
SHHH, I am cooking!
100 gr of past
1 oz of present
1 cup of future
one spoonful of hope
a pinch of luck.....
smells good, what are you cooking?
It's a new recipe!
....stir gently to avoid lumping.....
In the end the beauty of our world lies in life's contradictory nature that drags us through its fluxing intangibility. Forever unconquerable, always mysterious, never obvious, impossible to pin down or to define. So why try to be coherent? There is always a new twist around the corner awaiting.
In the next general election, here in Italy for instance, why should young people vote for those politicians representing an old corrupted system that is desperately in need of renovation?
Clean up your house first, then invite us in. I say!
Tidy up your messy system and make it appealing for us. When you are ready, we come and vote!
Maybe only then real change and improvement can substitute the tired and saturated world of politics.