Wednesday, September 16, 2015 6:58 PM
Buona sera tutti! Good evening everyone!
I will start this blog entry with a poem I wrote a few days ago.
In the style of Aldo Palazzeschi:
Andiamo?
Andiamo pure.
Alla strada dei graffiti.
Deostruita.
Le machine. Velocemente.
Pace.
Entri, entri.
Alla ragione.
Al rumore della tecnologia.
La serratura.
È chiusa?
3.
Machine sud.
2.
Machine nord.
La spazzatura della vita.
Della società.
La religione.
Non ha mai.
La vita. Il respiro della vita.
Voglia di un gelato?
Un gelato.
Una copia.
Uno. Uno. Uno.
1.
Rossa. Nero.
1.
Machina.
2.
Moto. E738092.
La paura.
Sono persa, devo andare.
Praticare. Sicurezza.
Siamo qui.
Devo fare.
Fatto. Faccio. Farò.
Torniamo?
Torniamo Pure.
I had such an amazing experience writing this poem. Not only did I walk and write on the same street that Palazzeschi lived on and wrote La Passeggiata on, but I was also able to see the Rome that many tourists, and even native Italians, often glance over.
During Prof. Mullins' lectures we discussed "l'anima doppia" of Rome. Essentially, they are the souls of Rome, not split in half, but rather, reflected. It is the same Rome, but we see different versions of it. It is a bit like when you look in a mirror. The person you see is yourself, but that is a very different person than the person your friends, your family, and strangers see. You only see your reflection, but it is you all the same. It is the same with Rome. She has two souls: twins that merge into one. The soul that most people see is the tourist Rome, the every day Rome, the Rome you see in postcards, but the Rome that you can't feel, only see. The other soul is the one that is the living, breathing, and ever preserved Rome. She talks to you. She whispers in your ear and kisses your hair. She takes you back to the days that only she remembers.
I was lucky enough to experience this soul, while I was sitting on the fountain steps of Piazza di Santa Maria in Trastevere. There were tourists there, but I was able to look beyond them and feel the Rome of the past. The Rome that traveled to me and greeted me with the smell of ancient pietra. For a few minutes I was able to experience a Rome that you can only meet if you meet her half way. I was reading Marco Lodoli's Isole: Guida Vagabonda di Roma, when a passage spoke to me. It read, "Ma in fondo il valore delle cose risiede soprattutto nel nostro modo di osservarle." But deep down the value of things, lies above all, in the way we observe.
...
Today we went to the Ancient Rome Forum, and I was absolutely consumed by the whispers of the ancient romans. Prof. Paolo has an amazing gift of speaking from the heart, mind, and soul. I was absolutely absorbed by the words coming out of his lips when he spoke of the Umbilicus Urbis. I'm going to recount a bit of what Paolo said to us.
“Camminiamo sopra
il corpo della nostra madre romana – la nostra primogenita. Un giorno all’anno
entriamo al Umbilicus Urbis è ritorniamo al ventre della nostra madre in una
forma magica e mistica. È una rinascimento, una fertilizzazione.”
...
This afternoon I had a realization about the Italian language and the power it holds over me, or rather, the power I hold with it.
Over the past week I have been extremely comfortable with the Italian language. I speak it without fear, without embarrassment, and sometimes without even thinking about it. It is such an organic feeling, the words just flow right out. Actually, I have been able to completely be myself: my true self, not the self that has to interchange the "I's" that lie within me. All of my "I's" are able to roam freely and naturally. The Italian language is a bit of a comfort blanket in the sense that I hide behind it as a way to expose my true self. Very contradictory, I know. It might be a mixture of this entirely new country, language, and experience, but I can finally breathe and not be afraid of being me. The language is not hindrance for me, but rather, a vessel that carries me to where I had been afraid to go before.
Un bacio da me a voi.
Ci vediamo. Alla prossima!
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