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Lost Days by Dino Buzzati

9/22/2018

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​A few days after having taken possession of a sumptuous villa, Ernst Kazirra, while making his way home, caught sight of a man in the distance, who was coming out of a tradesman’s door in the garden wall, carrying a crate on his shoulders and loading it onto a truck.

No sooner had he caught up with him, that the man had driven off. So, he followed him in his car. And the truck travelled far, till it reached the town’s suburbs, where it stopped on the edge of a ravine. Kazirra climbed out of the car and went to take a look. The stranger unloaded the crate from the truck and, after taking a few steps, threw it into the gorge, which was cluttered with thousands and thousands of similar crates.

He approached the man and asked him, ‘I saw you getting off my land with that crate. What was inside it? And what’s with all these crates?’

The man looked at him and smiled, ‘I’ve got more of ‘em on the truck that I’ve got to get rid of. Don’t you know? They’re days.’

‘What days?’

‘Your days.’

‘My days?’

‘Your lost days. The days that you lost. You were waiting for them, weren’t you? They’ve arrived. What did you do with them? Look at them, pristine, still bloated. And now…’

Kazirra took a look. The crates formed a huge pile. He climbed down the side of the ravine and opened one of them.

Inside it, was a road in fall, and at the far end, Graziella, his girlfriend, leaving him forever. And he didn’t even call after her. He opened a second one. Here, he found a hospital room, and, on a bed, his brother, Giosuè, who was ill and was waiting for him. But he was away on business. He opened a third one. At the little gate of the old, wretched house, he found Duk, his loyal mastiff, who had been waiting for him for two years, and was now reduced to skin and bones. And the thought of going back there never crossed his mind. He began feeling something here, at the pit of his stomach. The workman stood upright on the edge of the gorge, as still as an executioner.

‘Sir!’, shouted Kazirra, ‘Listen to me. Let me take away at least these three days. I beg you. At least these three. I’m rich. I’ll give you all you want.’

The workman made a gesture with his right hand, as if to indicate a point that was out of reach, as if to say that it was too late and that no remedy was possible any more. Then he vanished into thin air and, straight after, the gigantic mound of mysterious crates also disappeared. And night’s shadow fell.

(my translation of the Italian original in D. Buzzati, 180 racconti, Mondadori, Milano 1982)
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When the Moon Switched Off the Sun

9/1/2017

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I love this description of a solar eclipse from ‘In the Name of the Mother’ by Erri De Luca:
 
‘I also like it when the Moon travels across the face of the Sun and switches it off in broad daylight. A crushing silence falls upon the Earth, and even the ants stay still. In that moment, no one steals, no one kills, no one dies. For one minute, the world has to behave, to keep its voice down.’ (my translation)
 
 
Alberico Collina

In the original Italian:
‘Mi piace pure quando la luna passa in faccia al sole e lo spegne in pieno giorno. In terra si fa una pace schiacciante, si fermano pure le formiche. In quel momento, nessuno ruba, nessuno ammazza, nessuno muore. Per un minuto il mondo è costretto a comportarsi bene, parlare a bassa voce.’ 
da 'In nome della madre' di Erri De Luca
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Licking Salty Stars

7/8/2017

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'In summer, the stars fell like crumbs, catching fire in flight and fizzling out in the meadows. On these occasions, he would go to those that had landed nearby, and he would lick them. The king tasted the salt of the stars.'
from 'The Weight of the Butterfly' by Erri De Luca (my translation)

The next time I see a falling star, I may forget to make a wish, but I'll remember its taste.

Alberico Collina
​
'D'estate le stelle cadevano a briciole, ardevano in volo spegnendosi sui prati. Allora andava da quelle cadute vicino, a leccarle. Il re assaggiava il sale delle stelle.'
da 'Il peso della farfalla' di Erri De Luca
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Half a Truth

5/7/2017

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We say half-truths to make our lies more credible, but we are not kidding anyone - you can't split the truth. As this eloquent proverb reminds us:

'Half a truth is a whole lie.' Yiddish proverb

'Una mezza verità è una bugia intera.' proverbio Yiddish


Alberico Collina

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Reading Minds

5/7/2017

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Not everything can (or should) be done over the phone. And this is why:

'The face is the index of the mind.' William Hogarth

'Il viso è l'indice della mente.' William Hogarth


Alberico Collina
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The Worst Enemy

5/7/2017

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I try to remember this saying every time I receive advice or I am about to give it:

'No enemy is worse than bad advice.' Horace

'Nessun nemico è peggiore di un cattivo consiglio.' Orazio


Alberico Collina

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Love and Bread

5/7/2017

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Anyone who has experienced how financial problems can undermine sentimental relationships will recognise the truth behind this saying.

'Love is sweet, but tastes best with bread.' Yiddish proverb

'L'amore è dolce, ma si assapora meglio col pane.' proverbio yiddish


Alberico Collina
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Weighing Words

5/7/2017

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"Words should be weighed, not counted.' Spanish proverb

'Le parole dovrebbero essere pesate, non contate.' proverbio spagnolo


Alberico Collina
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God's Anonymity

5/7/2017

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'Coincidences are God's way of remaining anonymous.' Albert Einstein

'Le coincidenze sono il modo con il quale Dio rimane anonimo.' Albert Einstein


​Alberico Collina
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Half the Sky

5/7/2017

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'Women hold up half the sky.' Mao Zedong

'Le donne sorreggono metà del cielo.' Mao Zedong


Alberico Collina
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