STORY OF AN ISOLATION

"Grandma, this isolation is destroying me."

"What can't you stand about this time, my child?"

“I had projects to carry out, works to finish, pending commitments that are waiting for me… and now I find myself still. Property. Without being able to do anything. I'm wasting time. "

“You are not wasting time. You're earning it. But you don't realize it. "

"And how can I, grandmother, realize such an absurd thing?"

"Cook. As it once was. Knead the bread and let it rise two long days and two long nights. The time has come for slow leavening. The one that makes you take care of the food you cook. Use your hands, not machines. Use good yeast, not artificial yeast. Let your dough rise for days, not just hours. And in this time of long waiting and caring, even if nothing seems to be happening, in reality an incredible change is taking place. In the dough and inside you. Learn to take care of your daily bread, you will thus learn to take care of what really feeds your soul. And everything will happen. As if by magic."

"Is this the time gained? That of care and waiting? "

"Yup. In this fast paced world we prepare the ingredients quickly and we want the bread to be ready as soon as possible. But do you know the taste and smell of slowly leavened bread? It is a different, genuine, almost sacred flavor. While you wait for your leavening bread you are in connection with your bread: you look at it, you feel it, you care for it. Here: this is the time for slow leavening. You have already prepared the ingredients, you have already kneaded. Now step aside and enjoy the wonderful spectacle of this culinary transformation. Of this transformation that is also happening inside you. "

"Without doing anything, grandmother?"

“Without doing absolutely anything. The smell of bread is already in the air. Trust your bread. And in the great possibilities that are within you. 

I DIDN’T KNOW REALITY

I have lived for half of my life in my art world. Then I got out and discovered reality. Unfortunately for me, not knowing the rules, I didn’t know how to behave, so I was always spontaneous, sincere, without ulterior motives. Instead I had to learn that reality is artificial and that people are almost always constructed and false. I had to suffer criticism because I am too “sociable, open, convivial, affectionate ..” Think about how a person who always has everything with his heart and hears certain things can be. So they explained to me that I have to follow certain behaviors to be accepted by people, people who are all cold, detached, always with a mask and not at all spontaneous. I refused, rather I am alone with my dog ​​and my books. We wrote, sang and danced and the inevitability of the black future was tangible. We looked too far away. We didn’t touch a drop, no substance but our minds were so full of things that we were unstoppable and unstoppable. At night we wandered into philosophical discussions and our intent was not to explain things but to express our experiences. We went to the most unknown alleys of Palermo, wandering in search of wonderfully unknown corners. We sighed as if we were in love with the air itself. How can one continue to live after having touched eternity? How can we expect a future that was invisible to us? We were our infinity.

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