Translated into English by Aimee Van Vliet. The valley unfurled beneath him, squeezed between two high walls of rock as if the mountain had been cut into, leaving a jagged wound. Trees growing on the terrain clung to the rock, their stubborn roots grasping at a precarious balance. But as Continue Reading
Fascism
4. The occupation of Corsica
I picture my grandpa sitting on the ship that is taking him to Corsica. It’s a cold November morning, clouds darken the sky and the sea is a grey and choppy desert. Several soldiers move around him. Each of them tries to fight fear in a different way: some clean Continue Reading
3. Preparing for war
Sooner or later life takes youth away from us, like a blanket held on for too long on an autumn morning. My grandpa had to face this moment alone, crushed by the inevitability of war. I, on the other hand, always had him on my side. And in far less Continue Reading
2. The dawn of fascism
I remember my grandpa’s broad shoulders rocking over his bicycle, as I was cycling behind him on the road linking Ariano to Adria. It was a bright summer day, with no clouds nor wind, which was crushing Polesine, the province of my hometown Rovigo, under a red-hot sun. The afternoon Continue Reading