Cielo bizzarro, insolitamente nuvoloso. Sì, sono proprio nuvole, e non smog. Come se l'orologio del tempo si fosse sfalsato. Ultime pagine di traduzione, e stringo per mano, Ava, la protagonista di questo romanzo incredibile, di questa Florida delle paludi, con le isole di conchiglie e le mangrovie, e soprattutto gli alligatori. Spulciando one of my old notebooks in India, something that has not changed. Immutato.Come if my many little lives in India every month, the years spent here were an endless garland.
31 August 2002
dawn When I hear the call of the muezzin, I think that there can be awake most beautiful, and when I hear chants and processions of Hindus or the birds singing, or green parrots with their appeal fluorescent, or when walking at night through the deserted streets of the campus, with Ric, under the moon and everything is green, blue, and then a snail huge - maybe a snail - has dragged down the street and wet monsoon Floffy, my dog, the smell and prepares to fight with his funny dance: two leaps forward, two steps back. In these moments I open my heart and say to myself, "what will be will be." Why India can not exist in the future. The future time is a perversion of the West.
How to explain the magic to those who live here. How to tell the strength that comes in to live in another world. Yes, because India is another world.
0 comments:
Post a Comment