Eventually, after six months after the earthquake, I decided to go to Aquila, a place where I had never been before.
For a lazy and indolent, Molise in the body and soul, as I am, it was not an easy task. In the end I went with my friend Christian Iansante, actor and voice actor of renown, presentation of the good book Joseph Caporale entitled 'L'Aquila is not Kabul'. We started a bit 'before, just to look around and see some little thing more, in addition to the dark walls of a theater.
So there I fell in the middle of the war. A busy place. The first thing I see over the highway signs are black and red of Civil Protection. COM, DICOMAC, Operations Centers, before anything else. Before the countries of the tract first before publication. After two junctions where everything seems normal, we go into the street, called Leonardo Da Vinci, which has two rails in the middle, but far apart, evidently one for direction. I think of an omnibus, a monorail tram, as I know, a trolley bus. I believe that he had never seen before. Closed by a life within four walls of the house, maybe I missed some new technology. Look for some 'maybe I see a switch.
buy cigarettes at a tobacco store in a container that is two meters by eight. Look a bit '. None. The tobacconist is friendly. Thank you, sir. Good day, sir. The last time I heard the formula 'sir' was in the military, the seventh installment '89, twenty years ago. Since then Pigneto to live in Rome, and those who live or attend my area I can understand.
walk for a bit 'down the road. After the palace of the Abruzzo region is a neighborhood of cream, then another of red houses, with those typical brick public housing, which seem bombed at random. The buildings are like holes. The destruction is completely abnormal. Here a house intact, then a split with the pillars, another with a hole in the roof, another with the peeling plaster, then a still intact, and which seems to be missing a whole floor. Case broke, said later the President of the Province Stefania Pezzopane, a small effective impressive fighter. Erupted, just as in war.
No more than five hundred meters from this devastation is located in a complex which is the Academy of Fine Arts in front of it a small container. People with bracelets. Then some people in uniform. Refugees the war, and their guards. Then we go down to the Academy. All of cement, pipes, vents, windows, mirror. There is a crack. Solid base. That one wonders whether it is the fault, which perhaps does not go here, or whether we are talking about differences of materials. I confirm the fault moves, and how. It is called Fault of the comb. But there are buildings and construction, materials and equipment. And so you see the bombed houses at random, the deans of Civil Defense, the monorail to a trolley that never goes out except to take you to the Creator. And popular neighborhoods completely uninhabited. Many balconies still have the laundry on drying racks. Open windows, which make sense the presence of ghosts. Debris. A city skinned. Then
know Christian, Valeria, Joseph, Attilio, Charles, Milo. Together with them and my friend Iansante, come see an exciting evening, full of colors and deep reflection, communication, and at times moving. We are all well known on the fly, all we have collaborated on the fly, built, installed, placed, cut, put in order. Everything is automatic, and nothing has materialized a form of non-theater, no television, no investigation, no reading, no talk-show. But equally full of content and emotion. The book is called 'The Eagle is not Kabul', published by Castelvecchi, and complaint, but he says, but moves, but it's dry as a stream in summer, But you and swamps, without losing the thread, or the lucidity, the chronicle of disaster foretold. And do it almost automatically become a form of art. You must not do anything special. The emotion is already there.
Now, I come from Molise, which is a stone's throw from here and my people think I know her well. People slow, lazy, just like me, who established the 'But ch'ema ago' - (we need to do?, In the sense of, but we sure? But are we really sure? But what do we believe?) - As a way of life.
As I said dear Iansante, even in the Abruzzo region is more or less the same thing. He uses another phrase: 'thou hast from Penza State lu!' that Nor does not need translation or comment.
So after dinner the night before at a hotel that does not seem to bring any harm, to 10 degrees above zero that they bite the skin already discovered, we lose ourselves in conversation with our new friends. Attilio, who is a journalist of a certain level, admits to feeling a bit 'uncomfortable in these lands. There is something strange in people, he says. I Iansante and we soon drove loads of 11 on our respective peoples.
"In Friuli have already begun a long time to rebuild by themselves houses. Here no. Qua 'which has the state from Penza lu' "
And so on, with a series of platitudes.
arrived at my house that morning, and despite the busy day, no sleep. So why, I wonder if our people are really so terrible, they can be born within a few hours, evenings as exciting as yesterday? And if it is true that the directors are careful, thorough, and combative, as may arise neighborhoods at risk? Who should check? Who would watch? We must never stop to ask ourselves, we who are far away, we who have been mourning, we felt the earthquake we just barely, and we've seen for a while 'on TV, maybe we should continue to be concerned after the issue, and not be content with 900 persons housed at Onna. There are still
trentunomila ghosts in the street, eight centuries of history and completely abandoned in the old town, L'Aquila.
Some people think just moving them somewhere else, like the gaze of the people distracted.
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