August 21, 2008, Santo Stefano Belbo, Langa, Pavese.
I walked the narrow streets and crossed the square to climb the stairs leading to the Foundation Cesare Pavese.
there among his books, his letters, his dreams and his memories, to me that I love him so deeply, as it was near and with him Nuto, Silvia, Irene, Cinto and Masino.
And Langa out there was not only earth and sky, but became a vineyard and home, a sense of belonging, sweat and perfumes, and roaring curses of humanity trampled.
becomes life, tormented life, life that does not bend, that life is not lost, even when it ends.
And all had a sense, at least so it seemed.
Everything made sense, every experience, every moment spent or live, every tear, every expectation, every departure had his box.
Here, suddenly everything was fine: we had just breathe and let go of your heart, let it beat faster, and more, and then open it.
So are the memories come in waves, rivers, lightning, so many that I could not contain them.
Then came the quiet, in a moment watching his eyes moved to my mother I felt strong and my roots are back home.
"Life must be lived far from the village, it enjoys and profits and then when you come back as me in forty years is entirely new. The Langhe is not lost "Pavese wrote in" The South Seas. "
And he was right.
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