domenica 10 gennaio 2010
Jorge Luis Borges - Istanti
giovedì 26 novembre 2009
Song of Childhood - Peter Handke (Der Himmel über Berlin)
When the child was a child
It walked with its arms swinging,
wanted the brook to be a river,
the river to be a torrent,
and this puddle to be the sea.
When the child was a child,
it didn’t know that it was a child,
everything was soulful,
and all souls were one.
When the child was a child,
it had no opinion about anything,
had no habits,
it often sat cross-legged,
took off running,
had a cowlick in its hair,
and made no faces when photographed.
When the child was a child,
It was the time for these questions:
Why am I me, and why not you?
Why am I here, and why not there?
When did time begin, and where does space end?
Is life under the sun not just a dream?
Is what I see and hear and smell
not just an illusion of a world before the world?
Given the facts of evil and people.
does evil really exist?
How can it be that I, who I am,
didn’t exist before I came to be,
and that, someday, I, who I am,
will no longer be who I am?
When the child was a child,
It choked on spinach, on peas, on rice pudding,
and on steamed cauliflower,
and eats all of those now, and not just because it has to.
When the child was a child,
it awoke once in a strange bed,
and now does so again and again.
Many people, then, seemed beautiful,
and now only a few do, by sheer luck.
It had visualized a clear image of Paradise,
and now can at most guess,
could not conceive of nothingness,
and shudders today at the thought.
When the child was a child,
It played with enthusiasm,
and, now, has just as much excitement as then,
but only when it concerns its work.
When the child was a child,
It was enough for it to eat an apple, … bread,
And so it is even now.
When the child was a child,
Berries filled its hand as only berries do,
and do even now,
Fresh walnuts made its tongue raw,
and do even now,
it had, on every mountaintop,
the longing for a higher mountain yet,
and in every city,
the longing for an even greater city,
and that is still so,
It reached for cherries in topmost branches of trees
with an elation it still has today,
has a shyness in front of strangers,
and has that even now.
It awaited the first snow,
And waits that way even now.
When the child was a child,
It threw a stick like a lance against a tree,
And it quivers there still today.
venerdì 9 ottobre 2009
From Etna to Gangi through the TransNebrodi path
I am scared about not doing things that i'd like to do. Then on 29/09/2009 at 00.20 after having watched the last capolavoro of Giuseppe Tornatore, I decided to do the TransNebrodi solo. I'm glad to have taken this decision.
I reached the track starting from the Filiciusa Milia gate on the Etna sud side riding some kilometers on the famous Altomontana, went down to the Maletto village and up again towards the Tre Arie lake. Rested all the afternoon and slept in the the forest guards shelter called as the lake, I finally reached the Traversata dei Nebrodi path aside the lake Cartolari.
Time ago I was used to say to my grandfather that one day i would have cycled from Catania to his village Gangi. Now was time to do it. Mistretta wouldn't have been the last stop but only a pit-stop before going trough normal way to Gangi.
Exhausted I have been picked up from my uncle at 21.30 8 kilometers before arriving in Gangi.
Even if i haven't completed what i was supposed to do, I'm sure that my grandfather, wherever he has been watching me, is proud of his nephew and have helped him during this magical journey.
Some pictures
martedì 21 luglio 2009
Traversata dell'Etna Sud-Nord
Più che una pedalata in salita è stato un pellegrinaggio. I 1400 m di dislivello non sono nulla in confronto al terreno sabbioso, al sole cocente e alle raffiche di vento a volte abbattenti.
E' come conoscere una donna bellissima che ama farsi conquistare. Si fa conoscere piano piano. Non si concede subito. Ti offre a momenti terreno fertile dove ti senti gia padrone e a momenti inaspettati ti è ostile. Ti allontana e ti avvicina. E' un tira e molla dove sai che puoi conquistarla, ma non sai quanto devi faticare per stare al suo gioco.
Se la conquisti, e gia l'amavi, diventa una promessa di amore eterno.
Comunque, a parte fare il romanticone con l'Etna, preferisco sempre Dorien.
Incontri di viaggio:
- Signor X che con nipoti 17enni è salito a piedi al cratere centrale partendo da Gravina alle 4.00.
- Coppia Ceca che ha dormito in posto imprecisato nei dintorni del Cratere. Sembravano in spiaggia sia dall'abbigliamento che dalla rilassatezza pur essendo a 3330 metri.
- Ragazzo Ceco che vagava a piedi da 3 giorni sull'Etna in solitario con cartine ottocentesche. Ancora in buona salute, a parte la faccia ustionata, si apprestava a compiere la tratta di ritorno dal Timparossa a Zafferana. Forse i genitori ancora l'attendono.
giovedì 21 maggio 2009
Transpeloritani
C'è chi la chiama Transpeloritani, chi dorsale dei Peloritani, chi traversata dei Peloritani...qualunque sia il nome, i protagonisti sono i monti Peloritani e chi li vive qualunque sia il mezzo di percorrenza:piedi, scecchi, o mtb.
martedì 5 maggio 2009
"L'ARTE DI VIVERE" DI ERICH FROMM
L'uomo che soffre di noia non e' in grado di sopportarla. Egli cerca di compensarla attraverso il consumo. Va in giro in auto, beve, intraprende una serie di attivita' per "trascorrere" in qualche modo le due, tre ore spensierate in cui non deve lavorare in azienda. Certo, le sue macchine gli fanno guadagnare del tempo, di cui pero' non sa che fare. Si sente confuso, e cerca di ammazzare in modo decoroso il tempo guadagnato. Gran parte della nostra industria del divertimento, delle nostre feste e dell'organizzazione del tempo libero altro non sono che un tentativo di elidere decorosamente la noia dell'attesa