Skip to main content

The door




- Why did you stop loving me?
- I don’t know ...so far we have avoided talking nonsense. Why now, then?

Sabatina tried to hug him.

- Please, stop it. Not now. I have to go. In 30 minutes I have the train.

Sabatina felt trapped.

- Where are you going today? - she asked him.
- To Rome, I have a meeting with Nenni.
- Will you be home at midnight?
- I don’t know. Maybe. To overnight in Rome is too expensive.

Sabatina felt a feeling of desperation grow inside. She could not speak. She never knew how to speak. She only knew how to be silent. And she was used to be silent in her life.

It was November, outside. It was raining and it was cold. How she hated those days. Silvano opened the door. The ice of the tramontana entered.

"Ciao" he said.

Sabatina did not answer.
Silvano remained for a while undecided. Then he crossed the threshold and shut the door with anger.
Sabatina stayed in the entrance in front of the slammed door. She felt defeated. Betrayed. Speechless.
She had the whole day to go on. She had to do it. She had her children to hold on to. They were her strength and hope. Living in a Christian way for them. Humanely for them. Maternally for them. Who else could give her hope now that her mother Laura was gone? She now felt as a worn little girl.

Yet she was sure that one day she would not love him anymore, but he would look for her.
But would it have been a victory?

Yet she had two children with her. Had not they been the tangible fruit of their love? The children were there. They were a living testimony of their love. How could it have ended?

That politics. Politics had changed Silvano. Since he had gone to work for the party, since he had gone to Florence and then to Rome, Silvano had become another. It was no longer the honest and brilliant Silvano she had known. It was no longer the Silvan who loved to joke. The Silvan who spoke, who loved to talk. Now he was a taciturn, silent. Cocciuto, like a mule.
It was all so difficult now. She had devoted the whole life to her husband and children. With Lidia she had hoped to find a friend and instead ...

She began to cry. She felt deluded. Deceived.
At night while Silvano slept, she woke him up:

- Silvano, I still love you. I am convinced to love you again. Why don’t you love my any more?

- Maybe, Sabatina ... maybe you're not the woman I need now. Now I would need a different woman. Not just a woman who cares for home and children ...

She had desperately hugged him. She had shouted "No, no, you still love me, tell me you still love me! Please"

He had freed himself, and got out of bed. He had gone to the bathroom. He had shaved, had taken a shower. Then he was dressed and was ready to live.
Sabatina had reached the door before he left home.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Poetry dwells near the divine light's breath

  The comparison between poetry and divine light that we have proposed HERE finds its perfect explanation in Saint Paul, Epistle to the Romans 1:19: τ ὸ γνωστὸν τοῦ θεοῦ φανερόν ἐστιν ἐν αὐτοῖς, ὁ θεὸς γὰρ αὐτοῖς ἐφανέρωσεν — “that which may be known of God has been made manifest in them (in men), for God has manifested it unto them”. Poetry unveils within the human being the need to be human, that is, the need for Beauty, the need to feel Beauty within oneself and alongside oneself; and this feeling is sustained by divine light. Since we are influenced by the Augustinian idea of saeculum , we hold that poetry belongs to the saeculum and therefore comes to a halt upon the threshold of divine light [I] without crossing it, though perceiving the light that lies beyond that threshold. We are led to that threshold by the human feeling of Beauty that dwells within us and guides us to that point: to that door which cannot be crossed in our human condition. And yet, the mere act of stan...
Post a Comment
Read more

Similarities between Lithuanian, Sanskrit and Ancient Greek: the sigmatic future

by Fabrizio Ulivieri Lithuanian is the most archaic among all the Indo-European languages spoken today, and as a result it is very useful, indeed, indispensable in the study of Indo-European linguistics. The most important fact is that Lithuanian is not only very archaic, but still very much alive, i. e., it is spoken by about three and a half million people. It has a rich tradition in folklore, in literature, and it is used very successfully in all walks of modern life, including the most advanced scientific research. Forced by our interest for this piece of living archaism, we go deeper in our linguistic survey. One of the most noticeable similarities is the future (- sigmatic future -). Lithuanian has preserved a future tense from prehistoric times: it has one single form, e.g. kalbė-siu 'I will speak', etc. kalbė-si kalbė-s kalbė-sime kalbė-site kalbė-s This form kalbėsiu is made from the stem kalbė-(ti) 'to speak', plus the ancient stem-end...
2 comments
Read more

L'ombra del dharma

  Può qualcuno nascondere la verità per tutta la sua vita  e ingannare sé e tutti gli altri?  Vi sono demoni nell'uomo, che vengono di lontano  - per linee di sangue e generazioni che,  se li ascolti, si fanno tuo dharma Se cerco di spiegare quello che eri Devo l' oltre e il prima guardare Dove cause ignote e foschi criteri Erano il karma del tuo andare. Di lí andavi larvato di nulla E mai il volto sincero mostravi. Di silenzio vivevi in una bolla Eppure libero a me sembravi. In pubblico e privato ti scindevi E disprezzavi me a te non pari Ma santo mi apparivi e tu sapevi. Del tuo dharma che adesso appari Eri schiavo - di quel lontano demone Tara remota e senza memoria Che nel sangue ti seguiva epigone E segnava immemore tua la storia.
Post a Comment
Read more