The Little Book of the Dead

The Little Book of the Dead - IL Semplici

How far can a man love himself?
How far can a man accept himself?
His body, his mind, his countenance? His soul?
When I think of il Semplici, these are the questions I raise.
He was short, obese, bald, and he wore enormous trousers because he suffered from elephantiasis. When he walked, he had to keep his legs wide apart, as if carrying a huge watermelon between them.
He was round—his back and sides forming a circle. When he moved upright, he seemed to rock backwards and forwards.
But he lived. He lived his entire life, trying to be and do what a normal person is and does.
Was he a hero? An accident of life? A prisoner of himself?
Whatever he was, he lived. He accepted to live his doomed life.

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