vejer de la frontera. this is the closest ive been to the african continent. except maybe israel. but anyway, there was a certain excitement upon seeing the coast of morocco from the roof of the whitewashed pension in the middle of the whitewashed pueblo of vejer. already i have gone on at length about the whitewashed tendencies of andalusia, but jesus this was insane. in the deep south of la provincia de cadiz there is an old man with a toothless grin with whom we speak at length on the roof, and his accent is almost incomprehensible but he is emanating happiness and kindness, like the majority of people from this part of the world

dead fishie

yay the bugs!

here they are, feet in double pluggers that find home in the sand and the yellow light on red blue green orange paint of boats. there is a swamp near san fernando cornered by the carcasses of boats like whale bones, and silver light thick and somehow permeated by sparkly floating things. there is this flamenco sound that is oh so familiar now, oh so present in the stillness of this motion. there is dirt under my feet.
en la provincia de caí... tran tran tran... soy como el pelegrinooo tran tran tran.
in cadiz there is a big window with rusting green cast iron framework and peeling paint. everything is peeling here. the buildings, the walls, the table and bedpost. there is a wheight of antiquity and it is amazing. a little like cuba are these buildings, corroded by the salt air, their ancient splendour only enhanced by the lack of restructuring. everything has simply been left to the hands of time, and time worked away in this place, uninhibited. there are old men walking about, personajes, gitanos with crinkled skin, teenage girls on scooters floating through minuscule streets framed by colourful flower pots, balconies with slippered feet of women, windows with photos of the deceased pope near scarves of Cadiz football club. and the everpresen cerveza from the grocery store at our feet.

there are twirling hands and ruffed skirts and tapping of feet and women that are women and women children and men boys on horses and the authenticity of peoples hearts under the slight artificilatity of this place. and there is raucous singing and dancing, everywhere, everywhere, everywhere i turn. its the april fair in seville. i leave this city once again and there is a certain chagrin in my heart and somehow for the first time it is reflected perfectly in the flamenco that reaches my ear like a scream from this soundbox.

the torturous beauty of things. and then there is silence.

THIS IS LONG. the bottom half is an english translation of what ive written here in italian. i dont normally write this much, bear with me...

Recentemente un’amica mi ha domandato perché non ho scritto niente riguardo alla morte del papa. la veritá é che di questa cosa giá se ne parla tanto in questi giorni, e poi non so bene cosa dire. Comunque proveró. Ho vissuto la maggiorparte della mia vita in australia, un paese giovane, con radici che non sanno ancora bene dove attingere acqua. Un paese che si dichiara multietnico, libero. In fondo un paese non tanto differente dalla maggiorparte dei paesi sviluppati occidentali. Cosa c’entra questo? L’australia é un paese che, per mancanza di fondamenta antiche, ha accolto (in gran parte inconsapevolmente) a braccia aperte i recenti movimenti intellettuali cosiddetti post-moderni (ammesso che tutte le correnti di pensiero moderne si classificano con un post o un neo- tutti vogliono distaccarsi dal passato... ma questo é un altro discorso). Questa non é una cosa nuova o specifica a questo paese, molti altri l’hanno fatto. questa corrente intellettuale (che oggi la gente dichiara superata ma io non credo) induce a un tipo d’interpretazione del mondo e dell’essere umano dove non c´é veritá assoluta, ma tante, che ognuno é libero di pensare e di essere quello che vuole, che le minoranze devono essere messe in evidenza, e molte altre cose. Qui mi limito a generalizzare quindi che gli esperti mi perdonino per qualsiasi inesattezza. Ci sono molte cose con le quali sono d’accordo, che trovo interessanti, e altre invece no, che trovo contraddittorie. Il problema con questa ideologia é che va interpretata e messa nel suo proprio ordine storico-filosofico. Non voglio allargarmi troppo. Quello che é successo, credo, é che la gente, e in particolare la mia generazione, sia stata plasmata in un certo senso da questa ideologia (sia direttamente o indirettamente) che si dichiara libera e anti ideologica. allora abbasso le ideologie, la religione, abbasso qualsiasi schema oppressivo (chiaramente tutte le religioni, tranne chissá quelle orientali, rientrano in quest´ultima definizione). E allo stesso tempo via libera a qualsiasi altra cosa. Puoi essere buddista, anarchico, negro, bianco, gay, disoccupato, pazzo, ninfomane, artista, te stesso, puoi essere o pensare qualsiasi cosa. Va bene. Ma cattolico no. ovvero, si, puoi esserlo, ma in fondo non si capisce bene perché lo sei. Il cattolicesimo é passée, é roba vecchia, sei un indottrinato, ancora non hai letto nietzsche? Bisogna staccarsi dal cordone ombelicale, diventare adulti, pensare per conto proprio.
Questa é la cultura che mi ha accolto. Peró: mai ho provato discriminazione personalmente in quanto cristiana. Questo no. Anzi, vivere in australia mi ha permesso di conoscere da vicino religioni diverse, gente di tutti i tipi e di tutti i credi. Gente anche aperta ad ascoltare tutti i punti di vista, incluso il mio. Ma parliamo del papa. Oggi é stato il suo funerale. Nell ambiente universitario dove ho vissuto non si é mai parlato molto bene del papa, e se é per questo neanche fuori, o dai media. Specialmente dai media. Ed io, quando per provocarmi la gente lo prendeva in giro, ho mai detto qualcosa in sua difesa? Poco, per paura di essere giudicata. Ma oggi no, oggi diró qualcosa. Non é tanto, é una microscopica testimonianza di chi era per me quest´uomo. Quante volte ho sentito dire: perché il papa rappresenta un regime, perché il papa é anti diritti delle donne, anti gay, anti cambiamento, perché il papa sta seduto sul suo trono distribuendo sentenze mentre il mondo muore di fame, eccetera eccetera. Le critiche venivano spesso da gente intelligente, ben informata (su tutto tranne, oviamente, la persona in questione). Ebbene questo é quello che ho da dire io sul papa. Giovanni paolo II era, innanzitutto, servo della chiesa (parole sue), e non dittatore religioso. Il papa era tante cose: filosofo, poeta, artista, pacifista, rivoluzionario. Il papa aveva un amore profondo per i giovani, sempre li cercava, sempre dialogava con loro (con noi). E sempre apriva un dialogo con le altre religioni, cercando i rispettivi capi religiosi nei propri paesi per stabilire un´ amicizia, quando loro spesso chiudevano le loro porte a lui. Sempre ha chiesto perdono per tutti gli errori della chiesa, piangendo al muro del tempio di gerusalemme per il silenzio durante l’olocausto. Il papa é stato un pensatore. Molte volte, quando la filosofia esistenzialista (che sempre mi hanno attratto) o orientale o analitica lasciava lacune, il papa ha aiutato a riempirle. Il papa non era anti donne o anti gay, e chiunque avesse letto la sua teologia del corpo o le molte lettere scritte alle donne lo saprebbe. Il papa era rivoluzionario perché ci incitava a cambiare il mondo, perché mai ha tolto gli occhi dal primo rivoluzionario. Conservatore? Si, perché sempre ha conservato il messaggio di cristo.
Ecco qui, ho finito. forse ho scritto troppo ma in fin dei conti non importa. Per tutte le volte che sono rimasta in silenzio. Vi lascio con questo link dove potete leggere una lettera che scrisse giovanni paolo agli artisti, per me una delle piú belle. Cliccate qui. sennó leggete l'intervista pubbliacata nel libro 'varcare le soglie della speranza', dove il papa parla chiaramente su molti argomenti piú ampli.

INADEQUATE ENGLISH VERSION
Recently a friend inquired about my lack of words on the death of john paul II. The truth is that there´s a lot being said about it these days, and maybe I don´t really know what to say. But ill try. I´ve lived most of my life in australia, a young country, whose roots are often unsure where to get water. A country that declares itself multiethnic, free. A country that’s not so different from the majority of first-world western countries. What does this have to do with anything? Australia is a country that has welcomed with open arms (and sometimes unconsciously) a large part of those recent intellectual movements that declare themselves post modern (because the majority of current thought enjoys the use of prefixes like post or neo… everyone wants to disconnect in some way from the old. But that’s another story). This is neither new or specific to this country. This intellectual current (that people today believe to be over but i doubt it) encourages a type of interpretation of the world and of the human being where there is no fixed truth, but many, that everyone is free to be or think what s/he wants, that precedence must be given to minority groups and so on. I am presently limiting myself to a gross generalization so will the experts forgive me for any error. There are many things here which i find interesting, important, others i find either incorrect or contradictory. The problem is that this ideology must be interpreted and placed in its correct historical-philosophical context. This is not what happens, as when I say that modern societies (like the Australian one) have embraced this ideology , the majority have done so through the opaque and watered down filters of the media. Not many people know whats behind slogans such as everyone is right or you can be who you want to be etc. i dont want to get carried away, as is my tendency. What happened i think, is that people, particularly my generation, have been shaped by such ideology (either directly or indirectly) that declares itself free and anti-ideological. So away with ideology, away with religion, away with whatever kind of oppressive system (and clearly all religions, except maybe the eastern ones, fit into the melting pot of oppressive regimes). And at the same time welcome to anything else. You can be Buddhist, anarchist, black or white, gay, unemployed, crazy, nymphomaniac, artist, yourself, in theory you can think or be anything. Just not catholic. Or should i say yes, you can, but it´s not very clear why you are. Catholicism is passée, old news, you´re indoctrinated, haven´t you read nietzsche? You need to cut the umbilical cord, become an adult, think for yourself!
This is the culture in which i live. However: never have i felt direct discrimination as a christian. Living in australia on the other hand, has allowed me to understand and know people of all different religions and creeds, being human has helped me to understand the religionless. I have known people open to all points of view, even mine. But lets get back to the pope. Today was his funeral. Within the university environment the pope was never a popular guy. Nor outside, for that matter, or as depicted by the media. And have I, when people would mock him to provoke me, ever defended this man? Very little, out of fear of being judged. But not today, today i´ll say something. Something small, an insignificant testimony of who the pope really was. How many times have I heard: the pope represents a regime, the church is an institution, the pope is anti women´s rights, anti gay, anti change, the pope sits on his throne or in his pope mobile handing out condemnation while the world dies of hunger, etcetera. Criticism that often came from intelligent people, well informed people (on everything, obviously, but the person in question). Well this is what I have to say about the pope. Carol Wojtyla was, first of all, servant of the church, not its director. But this may be hard to understand. The pope was many things: philosopher, poet, artist, pacifist, revolutionary. The pope had a profound love for the youth, always he looked for them, dialogued with them (with us). And he always opened a dialogue with leaders of other religions, visiting them in their own countries to establish a friendship when sometimes they shut their doors to him. Always he has asked for forgiveness for all the mistakes made by the church, crying at the wall of the temple in Jerusalem for the silence during the holocaust. The pope was a thinker. Many times, where existential (much loved), eastern or analytical philosophy left explanatory gaps, the pope helped to fill them. The pope was not anti women or anti gays, and anyone who has read his theology of the body or his many letters to women expressing their utter importance in society would know that. He had an enormous respect the unmeasurable value of the human person in all its manifestations. The pope was revolutionary because he encouraged us to change the world, and not in an idealistic way, but starting from the realm of the heart, and because he never lifted his eyes from the first revolutionary. Conservative? Yes, because at all times he preserved the message of Christ.
There, ive finished. Maybe ive gone on too much but it doesn’t matter. For all those times where i kept silent. I leave you firstly with this link where you can read a letter that john paul II wrote to artists. It is not the most relevant but to me its one of the most beautiful. Click here. however this is not of interest to all, so if youre interested in more there is also the interview published in the book 'crossing the threshold of hope' where the pope talks about the problem of evil, other religions, women etc.

c'é la pioggia fuori, noi stiamo dentro e c'é l'acqua per la pasta che bolle, e l'odore del sugo che cuoce lentamente, e gli smiths felici sullo stereo. piccoli passi e mani sporche di colori per tessuti.

its raining, acqueous windows wobble and fingerprints.
blobs of orange and white and green and red paint and dust from pastels make me sneeze. there is the boiling of water for the pasta that will take 11.5 minutes to cook.
there is the tapping of feet.

coming back to cordoba from seville
tornando a cordoba da siviglia vedo:

formazioni nublose
e spostamenti metereopatici
girano piano nella voragine terrestre
e dal finestrino particelle
d'ossigeno accumulano
acqua dispersiva
per poi rilasciarla
tra le pagine d'un libro aperto
tra le dita di una mano aperta
tra fosse e sassolini nelle scarpe
tra persiane e piedi prensili (persi)
ma questo neblume nubloso di nubi sembra
dubitare
davanti a una mia integritá perduta
dispersa
a goccie
e poi tutto diventa chiaro
nel sorseggiare della terra

tornando a siviglia da mijas
coming back from mijas there is

morning
of pale sun filtered in white
and the merging at some point of
two infinites
by translucent silver
and before us extends
babylon, awake
and a cristalline sound
floating upwards dressed in gold
the sigh of the world
like a song of praise
and in all of this there is
a forward motion
morning
of veiled simplicity.