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However, regardless of what is seen subjectively better or worse, the fact itself is conclusive and incontrovertible: the written word is a good thing. One of the best that humankind has given us the opportunity to appreciate and, if I may add a personal opinion, the highest expression of the human being, just as human, clever and different from the animal (who is not generally devoid of specific notable).
could open the discussion here on the written word and the words that are written to disperse (there are many more, but perhaps this does not show the character of the importance of the written word? If it were that simple all remain and no amount of elevation can be achieved without the natural "selection" so it must be so and not otherwise).
The items that are lost are those who use and limited in time, are read and thrown away, they forget, or those others who, while having the intention and willingness to endure not have the strength, not resistant, because they are worth what they want. This is for several reasons, but the most important of all, what frustrates all resistance of the written word, is calculated from a word that is not true, in fact a lie.
The word, written word, the word of truth: all this for me was vinegar, and still is, even more.

I still love the letters and words. Writing I, if not resolved, many of my diverse conflicts. Beyond any difference, I hope, between a woman and that the writer who always want to become, I tried to transfer the written word in the full essence of my being, first of all, individual living and true, that is trying to synthesize the thought and actions, my words and my life in one.

I do not know if I can do it all, but I always keep this to myself that first word: VINEGAR - excellent seasoning, if used in the right quantities, which can enhance, with its alcoholic and acidic taste many flavors, and to give particular brio taste the dishes more common good for clean, discrostare, polishing a lot of things, revealing the light and beauty, but never a dish.

The plateau is the royal life. Life is essentially still the word and dressing, still vinegar.

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Considering that my mother was never with our hands and was always occupied in some household chores for her image that, after an unreasonable number of times that deter them from his stuff with the same question , was an annoying thing on the one hand but, on the other hand, relieved from having to compulsorily participate in other games that could not be played alone. I
a quiet, let's say, I could not hear for hours and then I liked to play alone, with the primer. Anyway, needless to say, the statistics and the calculation of the possibilities did their part, and it took several attempts and several afternoons before putting on a possible word ... at least in Italian means and not in Ostrogoths, Russian, or English language for my mother were all equally incomprehensible. The first word was VINEGAR. I still remember because there was a lot of noise at home that night, or so it seemed to me, around that little fact for me was the value of an Olympic medal. I had it done! At last I had the power to make words. It seemed to me a great thing, although I still wonder why.
That is, I say better, now I know, I know, but what I have left is difficult to understand why then, not today, for the little girl about four years that I was, it was so exciting to make words when in fact the words I was already talking about (and how many I could do!) and, conversely, I would not have sapute neither read nor write, and, in hindsight, I could not even repeat the only successful experiment: vinegar.
What was important was the written word.
course I did not know that the Romans had spread throughout the world that age-old motto: "Verba volant, scripta manent" nor how many useless words spoken penalty gave the world to utter every day, as they air, air only, and not the effort and thought that seeks to find the words to express themselves.
Less than ever, decreed that the importance of suffrage in an inexplicable but just as safe, I knew nothing of books and their importance, the greatest legacy to mankind for millennia has produced and produces and to which everyone can, if you want , access, and even use, abuse and listen to your liking. There is everything when it comes to books, there has been all throughout history, even if it seems to me that all that was there before was a little 'best of all there is today, but it's true also that each new generation and all generations have been "last" before no longer be so, had the same suspicion that I have now.
So, nothing new.
... more ...

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I was not yet four years ...

I was not yet four years old when his passion for letters took possession of me.
not for literature, of course, but for the letters, all letters dell'abecedario. With the curiosity that a child can have for personal belongings of his brother, many times I went rummaging in my folder, when he was out intent to play with friends. I was fascinated by that strange instrument, obviously, for me it was just a series of colored drawings, and absolutely determined to investigate more about those things called letters. I was told a story, a beautiful and mysterious to me, according to which that thing was used to make words.
So the idea of \u200b\u200bbuilding of words, endless words, all with quell'attrezzo that became a fixed idea in my little mind, or rather, a game that I play so much. What I did not know was still read, for me, an insignificant detail. I had the time and want more, then, first of all, this was the most urgent priorities that I felt it was necessary to find a way to have one all to myself. So I insisted that my I recovered a copy a bit 'askew and worn, but as I remember, full and colorful. I was happy. Every afternoon, on the steps of the house, my coveted units, the primer and, quite by chance, according to inspiration, so to speak, I took a tot of variable letters and places them side by side to make the WORD.
Not being able to read, I was not able to independently assess the results of my tests, then, each time, after having prepared meticulously and with great respect to each of them, ran from his mother and asked her to come and read me what I had written. ... Read more ...

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subtle melancholy

occupying the bottom of that heart sweating,

you know it's yours.

If you could drive away the thorn in the side, that merciful veil of mourning past and present, that line of weeping women

A song without flowers, lifeless nails it!

If quartered the swamp of blood

with large knives

and I could buy you all a piece of life,

I could laugh with his teeth,

I look with eyes only.

Death

The rustle of your bad breath is the poisoned blade of a knife that is like a sentence on our heads and the wind whistles

And laughs

of our go spastic looking for the solution.

Muse or enemy

Want relegated between rows of marble,

soggy turf

flames faded and fading

the stench of bodies abandoned.

Your kingdom is not made of flowers, crumpled into tears and rain, is the heart of a man without shoes in hand.

siren blue as lightning in the night, screaming and trembling.

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... Sometimes I see in September ... Pink flowers

We will wait another few weeks before the official presentation of the novel Naked in Falconara Marittima, at the headquarters of the cultural Van Gogh's Ear, with the presence of the author.

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interview (part two)

Who is primarily intended for this book? Persons related to this matter in various ways, or to all women in general?

do not mean to be a sign of anyone living or propaganda. These are just my ideas written on paper.

You have chosen a narrative in which the complaint have preferred the approach to life. Why? Why

there is nothing to report and plenty to think about.


How long did it take you to write the book?

between writing by hand pounding, corrections, and postings about twelve months.

What started your vocation of writing?

I have always cultivated her passion for writing since childhood, then as often happens, life has kept me away from a part of me. Then I had to face myself and suffer to see if I can really write. This helped and I was obliged to say a person who stopped me to hide behind a finger.

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interview with Pink flowers (first part)

About Pink flowers?

A woman, or rather, a person like many others.

In "Naked" touches a strong issue facing it with great ability to dig and psychological penetration. How will you mail Essert against this situation?

naturally and simply trying to go the full journey of life with the power of the written word.

It was hard to write about or wanted to do was clearly stronger and more immediate?

no desire to make things clear, but a duty to act toward me.

What reactions have registered in your city? And what advice to raise your opinion in the coming months reading the book?

I'm not going neither the first nor the second application as a result and frankly I did not reply.

What do you expect mainly: ransom public or literary prize?

Buy? I have nothing to redeem or be redeemed and the recognition that literature can neither demand it or expected it. I just like the book and I like to another person.

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shortly on this blog an interview with the author .
T ornate and visit often

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review of the book on www.mangialibri.com

http://mangialibri.com/?q=node/2630

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Florence, Santa Maria Novella in

is January 1, 2007. A nice middle-aged woman goes up to the station of Santa Maria Novella train from Florence back in his hometown of Reggio Calabria, in search of new reasons to live, possibly a new identity. Having long enjoyed a coveted social position in a provincial town, where he does his job as deputy director of the bank, she lets his sexual urge is anxious to prove a point all its devastating power, making it eager for a dimension of intense and authentic life. But his ordeal, after finding a large amplification in the local press, gives rise to a frenzy of gossip and expanded dramatically the actual contours of what has actually happened, and determines the immediate dismissal.
A tall, thin man, wrapped in a black coat, takes his own compartment, sitting before her in an elegant and composed. Behind its seemingly firm and formal aspect, however, masks a tender in loneliness and abandonment of expectation and love, whose story will soon long to cross with that of the protagonist in the course of a long journey that proves to be a ' unexpected moral allegory ...

GpG

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Pink flowers, in this long tale is his first narrative, he reveals with a compelling narrative talent and a rare capacity for introspection. Naked confession is a brave and daring, a true story really happened, which in itself contains the explosive force to bring to light the contradictions and hypocrisies that regulate social conventions.

managing a lucid narrative with honesty and firmness that sucks all the fruits, even the worst of its existence, the author digs merciless in its recent past. Avoiding aground in vain immodesty, but she gives us a portrait of a woman who smells of sex, the ancestral force that embodies the female universe since the dawn of time, that deep abyss that sometimes we are afraid to probe. A fluid that flows like a nagging underground aquifer, but that ultimately is intended to re-emerge with a bursting charge in the light of life. Toppo long hidden behind the guise of a social shut in the depths of his career, his need to feel anxious woman is revealed at some point in all of its devastating power, making it eager for a dimension of intense and authentic life.

Under our eyes actually does not happen nothing, because everything has already happened before, and it only remains to deal with memories of a chasm opened up just behind us. The atmosphere evoked along the rail journey that takes her back to the places of his childhood, of a landscape is suddenly shaken by a turbulent disturbance, which adopted the graveolente miasma of human perfidy and cynical sentenziosità. Page after page, the reverberation of debris and mud fever are perceived by the reader in the evocation of an experience that is anchored, from beginning to end to their nuclear generator, in a liberating function and curator. The harshness of the functional considerations of the need to subtract fatua appearance of things from the opinions of sharp un'accigliata community censors.

The result is a drink that hides intimate but intense novel unexpected moral allegory, a journey in your mind, in which the author patrol large areas of shadow with ruthless bravery and undoubted ability. Its pages are tough but charming, in which the pain, anger and loneliness are opposed to the visionary power of speech, of writing and passion. By breaking every caution, Pink flowers gives us the reasons for a choice that makes life meaningful, guiding consciously meeting at the junction between the normal and the exceptional. And, without going out never by the bond of resentment, she gives us a story where the reader navigate the contradictions of life and the soul enters the story remains captive from beginning to end.


Gian Paolo Grattarola

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library


library is in the first volume of fiction - shoots - from the Ear of Van Gogh, who made his debut with the novel Rosa Fiorita , Naked