( image by Isabella Pino )

“From the Alps to the to the Pyramids,  from the Manzanares to the Rhine”

 Don Giorgio from the Salesian Order made us write on back desks as back as our overals and his tunic, he dictated over the top of our high cut bent heads. I used to write with my nose two centimetres from the desk between the page and a black inkpot nib, drawing symbols, the first which, apart from their childish meaning, disclosed the secret safe of images. Thus the Alps, never seen, took their shape as so did all the rest. And the first image, due to the ubiquitous back made me think of an Italy on the black Sea. Grown up, and thanks to direct visits and adult observations Italy became a boot immersed in a blue Mediterranean sea. I became aware of the Manzanares after a few Madrienian tapas, the Rhine I saw in an alcoholic blur of wines. By car I learnt how the Alps set us apart from central Europe and pyramids I studied them much later on dusty school desks. The Mediterranean had been around us all along. ln mother’s tales, along downhill slopes, over brooms, in brisk inlets where  was born. Is and of sea, evenly surrounded by land, the Mediterranean at last surrendered, disclosing its ways, salting my skin, and thoughts. Then  can speak of it unafraid.

On ligurian shores,with a folded sheet of paper to mock a boat, to rudderless sail in the wind, free, master free. this the child's play entwining my former desires on mediterraneo. Still bilieve and hope in this sea of peace.