Spaccanapoli
Lost Souls

Napoli, unknown city.

Napoli, city of my homeland.

Napoli, city of that other Italy, as foreigners imagine it, the genuine one.

The other Italy, shaped by the warm winds of history blowing from the south, from the Mediterranean, from Africa.

My land is not this Italy, it is another, molded by the cold winds of history coming from the north, from the Alps, from the Germanic peoples.

Yet our flag is one, brothers of Italy eight hours by train and centuries apart.

And yet today, in this era, when there are no more new names but just some poor "post," we all become citizens of the world and the "Aneme Perze" become "Lost Souls."

And it's for the ears of all the citizens of the world that the Spaccanapoli play this music, ancient music, music of today, music of a city, music of the planet earth.

And if the monster of globalization devours everything, it often regurgitates some preciousness, like this diamond cut at home Real World.

And if someone will turn up their nose feeling traditions betrayed, I can only raise my hands to the sky to thank for receiving these emotions as a gift and feeling indebted to this city, whose dish that conquered the world, has today become the means of sustenance for a happy Friulian, now residing in the south, in the south of the world.