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Dear aldo,
Here is a normal Saturday afternoon in the midst of a pandemic in Padua. As has happened since the end of the first confinement, and paradoxically even more so by the fact that (at the time of writing this article) it is “only” the yellow zone: streets, squares and tables of bars and outdoor restaurants are full . The masks, especially among the youngest, are usually under the chin.
Alberto Vela, Padua
When I see small groups of children on the benches without masks, I think of their parents, grandparents, etc: I think each of them has told them to wear them, still … But why not?
Maria Ungaro, Milan
Among the unspeakable selfish cunning who go around without a mask, I would recall: those who think that because they have to smoke they can shoot their droplets in the faces of civilian passersby; those who, as they have to call it, lower their masks without even the education to get away from those who pass by. How do you explain it?
Paolo Bersani, Rome
Dear readers,
Some of you explained the absurd rejection of the mask with selfishness. I disagree. Selfishness is not the noblest of feelings; But it can become a boost for personal and community growth. Let’s think of the Italy of Reconstruction. Are we sure that it was animated by values such as the common good and a sense of state? Italians were individualists (and familists) even then. But it was an individualism that became the desire to do, to work, to build, to get rich; and in the long run everyone has benefited a bit. Thus was born the economic miracle, the boom. Today individualism turns into narcissism. Generate the belief that you are at the center of the universe, and your desires easily turn into whims. And narcissism, by definition, is sterile and, in the long run, counterproductive. Daffodils are the ones who deny global warming because they are cold at the time, the ones who deny hunger in the world because they just had a cheeseburger. It is Narcissus who claims that Covid does not exist because he is lucky not to have it. And maybe he celebrates in the street without a mask, while his fellow citizens line up in the car in front of the emergency room, with the oxygen tank connected by the window.
TODAY’S OTHER LETTERS
History
“Understand the research work behind the teaching”
I am a street urchin born eighty years ago in an alley in Naples. I have little education and I am an old man who was never a child. You could not have been a child of those terrible 40 living in a city destroyed by bombing, humiliated by misery, mortified by hunger and torn by thousands of victims. Everything was missing. Those who were lucky were able to make bread at home with a little flour mixed with sawdust. The “first language” that I learned and spoke was the dialect, I loved it and I love it, and in my own way, writing thousands of verses, I tried to safeguard those terms so that they would be saved to leave a trace of them to the young people who were lucky to be born in this land so rich in humanity, history and artistic treasures. Among the many things that I have rewritten in dialect there are two that I consider particular: “I Promessi Sposi” and some songs from the “Divine Comedy”. Here is a passage, translated into Neapolitan, from Dante’s Inferno (Canto Primo):
Thirty-five years old, my age was / when I got lost in the fog: / my heart burned like a vrasera, / kept my flesh full of blood.
He had come out on the right track, / he lived on brothels and notebooks.
How sad or empty I was! ‘n fantasy, / yes’ or veco again, still mo m’agghiaccio: / in front of isso’ to death is n’alleria.
Io comme ce trasette nu ‘o ssaccio, / e will remain per’ semper a mystery: / non ero più crestiano, ero nu straccio.
Raffaele Pisani
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