spaccazucche

I find him exceptional. In him there is a symphony, which is pushed out by his fingers. Two hands, one symphony. I was given a ticket to his concert just over a month ago, in Udine. His face, his mannerisms were so childlike, foolish but without arrogance and stupidity. And the helpless listener was now caressed, now slapped; the melodies were simultaneously sweet and then harsh and cruel. But this matters little, what emerged was pure sound. Remarkable too is the latest Joy, “l'orologio degli dei” above all, a triumph.
I would invite Einaudi to sit and listen. To learn.

sentimental, moved, and devoted like someone who is initiated into love, dear Cornell. And if all this penalizes your prose by diluting it with watered-down colors, the sentiment that comes through remains serious and disenchanted. Because the supporters of buckleyjr. all resemble each other somewhat in their weaknesses, above all.

elected don't get upset. Frankly, I haven't read it and I'm not keen on giving votes "on trust" like some naive people in here, nor to lie for such a triviality. I promise myself to read it sooner or later. After all, she, a lover of letters like me (who studies them), will understand that I don't have only this to do and the review seems a bit demanding in size. I'll reserve my judgment for soon.

I believe too much has been said about dear comrade PierPaolo. And as per the script, everything ends here in belches and flatulence. As for my miserable opinion, from Casarsese to Casarsese, we are all good at giving flattery to a man who has spent his social life as an outcast, ever since his forced departure from the PCI of my aforementioned Friulian city. He remains in the hearts of many, as I have gathered here. It’s a pity that this support currently remains mere empathy for a deceased being, for someone who distinguished himself from other human beings in life. We may not be the guilty ones, but our fathers are. Pray for him, pray for those like him who lived this earthly existence as the one and only life to consume, pray for him who sought neither fame nor respect, for him who only wished for the chance to speak, not to be listened to. I find myself unable to pray.

Congratulations on the prose and the analysis. The former made the reading enjoyable, while the latter pushes me to dig into the (as it were) "empty" spaces of my Battian culture. This album belongs to me, in my breath, in my ears, and in my spleen. And I know almost nothing of the entire preceding remainder. Ergo, mercy.

Right, sorcio, but I study in Trieste, and from that city Monfalcone is 15 minutes away. Easy to understand the rest. However, I didn't miss it in Udine. The Teatro San Giovanni is something impressive, the view from the gallery was perfect. I'm recycling the two adjectives for the protagonist as well. He was very excited, he seemed like a child. He spoke softly, shouting was left to the music.

*check

oh I see who is teaching you...the dear companion of letters. Come on, it’s just the cacophonous zeta less, after all the nickname was born in the dawn of this adolescence as a literal translation of the famous band. In any case, regarding the thesis of the "savior," I thought I remembered it like that. I will check. After all, it doesn’t take much to support this hypothesis when a mere glance at the cover is enough where a prophetic little man seems to contain and control at his own discretion the flow of waters. It seems that even the Great Book contains a similar character.

"The eliminator" [??] would actually be "the savior," just open the English dictionary.

January 24, 2007 Allevi@Monfalcone(TS)