"- Yes, yes, I know, but there so good as to describe ? To tell party? My spirit is hungry for facts, do not you understand? Of details, fragments of colored and full bodied the world outside. I'm tired of thinking, remembering, imagining, dreaming, I want to see, and for this I must get back to your eyes. So?
...
Words, words, words which mean nothing vuotissime. I could have flood, which correspond to the facts and Serbin's sharp edges, the weight, texture. Words like pebbles rough mortar that binds not be excluded from the ambiguity of phrase and tone, firm, fleshy, not ensnared by the arrogant crowd of conjunctions and adverbs! Sometimes I think how it would be nice if the door came the Florentine secretary, and Sir Dante, or Tacitus, or the divine Homer, ah! I'd trust them, yes, I go with them wherever they want, no questions asked.
...
dream is ... To dream is to live another life, other lives
...
- It 'at this point that we ... yes, we ... we do things.
- Eh?
- There ... we love, that is, no, yes, flirting.
- I was expecting me to say such a thing. Now tell me stories.
- But are these stories.
...
'If you see the first half-opens the window a streak of light, then a piece of scenery is always a little bigger, and even if you do not finish in open you can imagine how the landscape continues, the river continues to flow downstream, the sky remains grigino more or less, the trees still shaken by the wind, but if you're there, in the landscape? If you six that landscape? What you know then? What do you see? Another will be the window for you, and see, and tell '.
...
Writing is great if you do in the sunset, when you return to your apartment after a busy day and go along with the urge to listen deeply, and then you drop in you as in a mine, and it portrays the minerals to sculpt and make the day shine as unpredictable prisms , that, that is the moment ...
...
How then can write those, like me, constantly lying in his apartment for months? Whoever goes to himself all of his time to the point of not knowing how the most out of what the outside? He believes writing a story, but it will be only his shapeless delirium.
...
- I am the step and time, I'm the source of forms, I am the mouth and bite, throat and belly are the stories that I have.
...
- I am sorry: and now you have realized that yes, that is not the value of things to count, but the exchange rate, going from there and come back here, but with the head still there ... "
Michele Mari The hold and the abyss , Bompiani 1992, Einaudi 2002
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