Hello I finally emerged from a long hibernation.
It 'been a time where hard work and a series of events, but unfortunately I have kept away this secret corner.
Then something happened last night.
I was enraptured watching TV, I was excited in front of a person you told and who told the good thing is to realize an old dream.
Funny, because just a few days ago I was telling a Christian as a baby when I spent hours watching Anna Marchesini, thinking he wanted to be like her. Then
.. there she was, after years of absence from TV interviewed by Fabio Fazio.
was different from when she was betrothed in Lucia, but she always with the same voice and the same wonderful, delightful, unique, humor and depth. Careful
I heard the whole interview .. and without realizing it, I found myself in a memory of my infazia. A simple reminder that I had put away, without giving due importance. He spoke
because it belonged to the memories of his life, but I could tell so well, but so good that I wanted to hand my whole life.
The incident was reported, as a young mom forced her to go with her to visit the sick in the hospital. She even knew these
them here, but my mother was just going to find those people, it was just drag it to see the legs of old and dry glass syringes which were boiling, because throughout this mom felt socially active if dedicated Time to hospital visits and there was no problem for her.
His mom was like mine, and his feelings were my ..
slowly the time in the hospital was dedicated to the study of the lives of others ... they hid in a corner for hours ... watched the families of sick neighbors.
The interview was intended to present his first book, THE TERRACE geraniums shy.
A book about her, but after hearing it and reading your words .. I could not help but think, that this terrace was my geraniums and that those were the ones of my mother.
read these lines, read a little about me .. I've already bought!
"He says to me, but anyone can slip into the story, talking about things that have happened or would have happened, but also of how I learned to look at things and scrutinizing their every minute in the sensitive and invisible and then speaks of dreams, the legendary and revolutionary force engaged in my life, and speaks of the unhappiness of her extraordinary beauty and then talk of silence within which you can only listen, you can see the small voices, the voices do not count, a silence thick and still, silent and deafening. A look inside you can find the universe.
'm happy to have written a very different from what I've played and I did it with audacity and hope and poetry.
There is no wonder why.
The comedy comes from a way of looking at things, the vision lucky and miraculous even the shadow of the things themselves and their opposites, so I see the humor a form of expression, especially when very high flows from the reversal of experience who know you deeply, that goes for the melancholy, the sadness, the misery which Laughter is the flip of the acrobatics!
For the girl through the pages of the story, as with any child, the experiences are all first times, whether you feel the flutter of a butterfly's wings that tremble in his fingers and then tumbles to the ground lifeless, or the permanent fear that the mother will like that butterfly. Life explodes inside her tiny existence, life is but death, However, things, voices, impressions, and the lives of others can not be felt in the daily hustle and bustle which flows with time clock. The girl who lives in the balcony geraniums timid slowly discovers that it can hear in the silence that drowns the corner of the huge house overlooking the rooftops, the lonely place that eventually became his own room. In there you will be able to recognize the invisibility that run beneath the crust of the world and experience the turmoil that stirs in her the offer of life. Just one girl, whose mom taught her to walk the pain in silence and witness the birth of a dream for her still sitting there where only silence reigns pigeons and finally emerge, the life of the life, poetry, writers, literature and the words of the books, the discovery that peeled and wrecked the lives, which in reality only serve to hide, that cease to love, instead of mending the sophisticated that art is able to stitch around, they can become immortal existence.
So write a book in which guard the silence becomes the child's dream, a dream that only the geraniums knew and yet they have always held "
's special
Eli
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