A New Year, I never fired. Ten years ago I watched those who did with a sense of superiority. For this she laughed dell'insensatezza costly and serves no purpose "noble." "Just a sad relief," I thought.
Now I have my questions. Looking at them I begin to wonder: what do they seek these men? What do they want? where to shoot? where they hope? what they love?
And I find myself thinking that behind every shooting there is a man who has pledged to do so. He thought, he wanted, chose him. And do not despise the most. I watch the fireworks and watch me, watch. On this occasion I was reminded of this beautiful passage from Cormac McCarthy, that the dear friend Gabriel showed me a couple of years ago. There is an old water trough built with human hands. The main character reflects upon her hands on the man.
"[...] But the man was put there with a sledgehammer and a chisel and had dug a trough of stone that would have lasted ten thousand years. And why? What do you believe that guy? Of course not believed that he would never change anything. One might think that. But I could not be so naive. .. so I thought about [...] And then I think that guy sitting there with the bat and chisel, perhaps a couple of hours after dinner, I do not know. And I must say that the only thing that comes to mind is that the former had a sort of promise in your heart. And I'm not sure going to put me to dig a trough of stone. But I'd be able to do that kind of promise. It is the thing I'd like most of all .... " Cormac McCarthy, No Country for Old Men, Einaudi, 2006, pp. 249-50
-
Pino Suriano
0 comments:
Post a Comment