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In particular, the irst translation is a letter by Petrarch, in the irst volume. The other translated passages appear in the second volume, where again she says she is offering a literal translation from Latin.

Finally the last translation is in the ifth volume. Alessandra Calvani 25 Firstly, it could be argued from these translated passages, that she is addressing herself to a female public, as the knowledge of Latin was taken for granted as far as men were concerned. This inference is conirmed by her last translation, offered to her public with the certainty they will be especially welcomed by women vol.

But they would need too many pages. I hope that the examples offered here illustrated the point clearly enough. Calvani, Translating in a female voice, in Translation Jour- nal, vol. Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura. Stabilimento Tipograico di P. Montagu , Saggio sugli scritti e sul genio di Shakespeare paragonato ai poeti drammatici greci e francesi con alcune considera- zioni intorno alle false critiche del Sig.

Calvani, Translating in a female voice, in Translation Journal, vol. But am I other or thyself? Her main research interests focus on literary translation from English into Italian , the translation of language varieties, the literature of the American South.

She has published a number of translations in Italian journals and magazines. This paper focuses on two different tendencies in the Italian translations of African American English, namely stereotypical rendering and standardization of language varieties. Even if they start from different perspectives and eventually come to opposite conclusions, both scholars testify to the impossibility of creating a stylistically accurate and not stereotypical Italian translation of African American Language and implicitly suggest normalization of language varieties as the only possible alternative to stereotypes.

A broader overview of the theoretical debate on the translation of dialects also highlights the limits of standardizing language varieties and casts doubt on the alleged beneicial effects of the normalizing practices. African American English in Italy: Many Italian scholars acknowledge that there are stereotypi- cal linguistic features in early Italian translations and dubbing of AAE -- such as the use of ininitive verb forms for conjugated ones and the replacement of unvoiced consonants with voiced ones.

Most linguistic features employed in early Italian translations of AAE implicitly stand for the incorrect expressions of those who cannot speak properly.

An example is the overuse of ininitive verbs—a feature associated by Italian linguists with second-lan- guage acquisition2. Yet AAE, as it has been clearly shown by many different scholars, is a language variety that has its own grammar and can successfully fulill any communicative purpose Labov; Rickford; Green; Wolfram; Smitherman. Thus, translating AAE into Italian by means of this feature assimilates it erroneously to the language of North African second-language learners.

Get PDF La sposa normanna (Bestseller Vol. 100) (Italian Edition)

Italian dubbing strategies have changed over the years follow- ing the changing status of African American characters in movies. Chiara Martini 29 Starting from the Sixties, stereotypical features began to disappear, especially in movies that focus on racial issues: In Roberto De Leonardis was appointed as director for a new version of Via col vento dubbing, which eliminated all grammatical stereotypes in African American speech but received very little attention from the public; the same had happened four years before in the Disney movie Song of the South I racconti dello zio Tom, irst Italian dubbing in , second version in , both directed by Roberto de Leonardis which was re-dubbed in by the same De Leonardis because of similar concerns about the rendering of African American English.

In recent years Italian scholars Taylor; Malinverno; Pavesi; Zanotti have pointed out an opposite tendency toward normalization of linguistic variation in dubbing. Literary translations of AAE seem to have followed a less lin- ear path. Despite well-grounded objections, the overuse of ininitive verb forms and replacement of unvoiced vowels with voiced ones appear even in recent translations of African American English. It is possible to hypothesize that Cesare Pavese used these features in his translation of Moby Dick because at that time writers were not fully aware of the sociolinguistic implications of this grammatical choice.

Sembra, lo so, una parodia del Broken English, rotto, spezzato, informe, elementare. As I have previously pointed out, similar strategies are frequently employed also in Italian dubbing.

Chiara Martini 31 2. Theory and Practice of Translating Dialects5: From a theoretical standpoint some scholars underline the limitations that such a task necessarily imposes and consequently deny any real relevance to the topic: Halliday, or translation scholars like Peter Newmark, as underlined by Federici in his introduction to Translating Dialects and Languages of Minorities.

For most translators, the standard variety becomes a language, a sort of sociolinguistic dogma, which puts them in the hierarchies of language and social success. Given that the standard variety is a property which has passed the market test, any translator may be left with no choice but to conform to the belief that the standard variety is the crucial medium of survival in the publishing market and for personal success When translators do not attempt to force the norms, they are conservative in respecting the target language expectations and avoid challenging it with non-standard variants […].

When trans- lators try to reveal the differences in the source language, such as in The Simpsons dubbed into Italian, which uses target language dialects ad absurdum see Dore , they are experimental.

An idiom characterizes a society, and when you ignore the idiom, you are very likely ignoring the whole social fabric that could make a meaningful character. Language is one of the most powerful tools the author masters in order to represent social differences. All of her characters show linguistic features that can be ascribed either to Southern American English or to AAE or to both: Problems in relations between different classes are represented through dialogues illed with misunderstandings, especially between white and black people: Words are seldom able to establish a real relation among human beings who belong to dif- ferent social classes; rather different ways of speaking symbolize separated worlds and identities that cannot meet.

The following examples show some of the corrections that the editor makes to the translation of African American speech: Tutti Rac- conti 4 Restoring of correct syntactical structures in place of sub- standard or only uncommon ones: If this is the case, a problematic lexical choice still remains unaccounted for. In this regard the edition does not show any difference from the one and preserves the identical vocabulary of ethnicity, as in the following examples: The Negro had stopped what he was doing and watched him.

Complete Stories Il negro aveva smesso di lavorare ed era rimasto a guardarlo. Vita Tutti Racconti […] and eventually she had to stay in bed […], with only a colored woman to wait on her. Scholars like Schiavi propose the existence of such standardization paradigm in Italian literary translation from English Not only did prestigious translations show it -- such as the Mondadori edition of the Sound and the Fury translated by Vincenzo Mantovani, later repub- lished by Einaudi — but also innumerable recent ones: These examples show once more how grammar — through lexicon in this case — can convey inadequate translations and representations of a different culture.

As we have tried to show so far, Italian translations of African American language display many erroneous linguistic habits, which are still dificult to eradicate. Armstrong, Nigel and Federico M. Translating Voices Translating Regions. Anna Giacalone Ramat, and Giuliano Bernini. Conside- razioni sulla nozione di standard in linguistica e sociolinguistica. Standard e non standard tra scelta e norma: Woolard, and Paul V.

Oxford University Press, The case of Turkish translations. Translating Dialects and Languages of Minori- ties: Challenges and Solutions, Bern: La rappresentazione del diverso in italiano e nei dialetti. Federici, Federico M, ed.

Print Green, Lisa J. La lingua del colore tra Stati uniti e Italia.

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Giuliano Bernini, and Vermondo Brugnatelli. Questions regarding Translation and Dubbing. Wolfram, Wolt, and Natalie Schilling-Estes. Breath of Life! Murder in Mind?

La sposa normanna

For an analysis of the overuse of Italian ininitive verbs among second-language learners see Bani. Yet I had to resort at that time, and I would do the same today, to the overused stereotype of those who speak in inini- tives and mangle sounds and words.

I chose the stereotype in order to preserve the contrast, rather than leveling and losing the distance between the two languages. The second one, entitled Tutti i racconti and published in , collects all the short stories belonging to the American edition The Complete stories My citations from Tutti racconti refer to the edition.

Omboni refers to this choice in an undated letter addressed to one of her editors Guido Davico Bonino at Einaudi publishing house. A general amnesty allowed him to return to Italy in where he began a career as a journalist and political commentator. Giulio Camber Barni Born in Trieste, he studied law and philosophy in Vienna before being drafted into the Austrian army on the outbreak of war.

Along with a friend, he deserted and volunteered for the Italian infantry. He rose through the ranks to become a captain, was twice decorated for gallantry and survived a gas attack.

After a career as a lawyer, he was called up again in and served as a major in the Frontier Guard in Albania, only to die there after falling from a horse. He then studied law, but very soon became a popular and proliic novelist, journalist and essayist. He wrote one novel based on his war experiences Giorni di guerra and published two collections of poetry, Poesie and Bassa marea Clemente Rebora Having studied for a degree in literature at the Accademia scientiico-letterario in Milan, he became a teacher and began con- tributing poems to the leading Florentine literary journal La Voce.

Having already done his national military service, at the outbreak of war he was called up as an infantry lieutenant and suffered a serious head injury from an Austrian shell. He spent the next three years in military hospitals recovering from the physical and psychological shock, but was able to resume his teaching career until a religious crisis in He destroyed all his books and papers in the following year and eventually took holy orders as a Rosminian priest.

He continued writing poetry in a religious vein and two editions of his collected works Le poesie were published in and In he irst joined the Italian Red Cross, then served as an infantryman from Alongside of his work as a classics teacher and translator of the classics, he was a noted amateur botanist, especially of lichens. He continued to write poetry and also published a many works of prose. Ardengo Sofici After studying painting at the Florence Academy, Sofici spent seven years in Paris , mixing with the artists and writers of the day, including Picasso, Braque and Apollinaire.

Called up in , Sofici served in the infantry and wrote about his experiences not only in his poetry but in two memoirs Kobilek and La ritirata del Friuli Carlo Stuparich Born in Trieste, then still part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Stuparich was an irredentista who believed that the great port should return to Italy.

Although he had moved to Florence to study in and joined the literary circle around La Voce, he quickly volunteered for military service against the Habsburgs and was commissioned as a lieutenant in the famous Sardinian Grenadiers.

Unfortunately cut off during an attack, and having lost all his men, he took his own life rather than surrender to the enemy as an Austrian citizen, he would have been condemned to death as a traitor. He was thus receptive to Futurism, which he tried to introduce to Sicily with his own short lived literary journal, La Balza. Like many other young Italians, he was inluenced by patri- otism to volunteer for active service against Austria-Hungary and served as an infantry lieutenant.

He was wounded and on conva- lescence in Syracuse wrote a prose-poetry diary in French. At the end of the war, he lost interest in the avant-garde and turned to dialect poetry and the study of Sicilian culture. After many years as a schoolteacher he became a professor of Sicilian culture and language at the University of Messina. Giuseppe Ungaretti Born — like Marinetti — in Alexandria, Egypt, and educated in French there, he went to Paris in intending to study law at the Sorbonne.

On the outbreak of war he moved to Milan and was drafted into the infantry as a private, ighting on the Austrian and later French fronts. The poetry he wrote in the trenches was irst published as Il porto sepolto and later ampliied in Allegria di naufragi in In it he proclaimed a new dawn in aesthetics for the new century, praising the virtues of the technological age, which he saw as a potential for spiritual renewal.

It caused a sensa- tion throughout Europe. Marinetti was perhaps a little late in his praise of machines, which had been around for well over a century, but it was the irst time an aesthetic movement had lauded the speed, mobility and sheer power of the very latest in industrial in- novations and proclaimed them almost as moral virtues to enhance the soul of man and save it from its comfortable bourgeois sloth.

This idealism had a darker side. Marinetti also saw war as a source of renewal: Noi vogliamo gloriicare la guerra — sola igiene del mondo We want to glorify war — the only source of health in the world. In ive years time the poet was able to see for himself what a healthy effect war had on the world. But Marinetti was an un- daunted and enthusiastic combatant, twice decorated for bravery.

Unfortunately, after the war his militarism and patriotism led him into Fascism. Many Italians had gone to war against Austria-Hungary because of Hab- sburg rule over Italian speaking territories on the Adriatic coast, which they thought should be under Italian rule. Like Marinetti, Ungaretti had been born in Egypt, educated in French there, and was drawn to Paris as an ar- tistic centre before the war broke out. This too was a familiar model for young Italian writers and artists who were ardent promoters of the latest French movements, most notably Cubism.

In Florence, Giuseppe Prezzolini had founded the cultural and political review La Voce in order to disseminate the latest movements from Paris, although not — at irst — the Futurism of Marinetti. Sofici later joined with writer Giovanni Papini to found the more radical Lacerba which was ultimately to champion Futurism, although it was wary of and contested the theatrical antics of Marinetti and his follow- ers in Milan.

This was the situation then in These were granted Italy by the Treaty of London the following year, inducing it to declare war on Austro- Hungary and a wave of patriotic idealism swept many young men into combat. Austro-Hungarian forces held the higher ground and for the Italians it was literally an uphill battle. That is, when movement was possible. The many fronts in this war Asiago, Carso, Isonzo saw the stalemate of trench warfare very much the same as in France and Flanders, with the exception that trenches in the mountains had to be hewn out of stone and ice and armaments hauled up by mule or manpower alone.

It will subvert syntax, use surreal imagery and manipulate voice as some of these poems show. But the experience of war tempered many poets to react against avant-gardism. The selection offered here is taken from shorter works and showcases poets who may be less familiar than the famous names of Ungaretti, Umberto Saba and Eugenio Montale, the latter two also writing poetry during the war. Antologia dei poeti italiani nella Prima guerra mondiale a cura di Andrea Cortellessa Mondadori, which gives details of irst publication and irst collections of the poems.

Nei boschi di freschi nocciuoli La mitragliatrice canta, Le pallottole che siorano la nostra guancia Hanno il suono di un bacio lungo e ine che voli. A machine gun sings in the neighbouring woods of fresh hazelnuts. The bullets that graze our cheeks have the sound of a long delicate kiss lying by. Were it not for the appalling overwhelming stench of these enemy corpses we could light up our cigarettes and pipes in the this trench turning to mush in the sun and, as soldiers more than brothers to each other, calmly wait for death, which perhaps will not dare to touch [us, young and good looking as we are.

The air is as riddled as a piece of lace with the gunshots of men withdrawn into the trenches like snails in their shells. It seems that a whole host of breathless stone-cutters is striking the basalt pavement of my streets and I listen to them half asleep seeing nothing.

Have mercy on us survivors who hear your death rattle and still the hour never comes, the death throes quicken, but you can let go and comfort be yours in the madness that leaves no one insane. Meanwhile the moment brings pause, the brain sleeps and you leave us in peace — thank you, brother. In that soft whiteness of broidery and lace the pupils become animated by dreams: Ed i soldati scrutarono le stelle e il irmamento, pesarono respirando il fremito del vento.

But on the 9th you could see a ring gleaming around the moon: The soldiers and the oficers who had waited 30 days for the offensive looked at one another and wanted to embrace. At dawn on the 10th it began to rain. Nei campi vi sono segnati ventagli, dove spuntano le piumetti del grano.

Gli uomini accanto hanno orecchi di ma- dreperla. Una fanfara, e i cavalli vanno a passo di musica come portassero le cavallerizze per la sabbia del circo. La strada galoppa il mio passo. Dovunque sono nate le violette.

Intravvedo la dolcezza della sua carne rosa- celeste. In the ields patches sprout with little feathers of grain. On the ground, light is relected from the mirror of the sun in waves that break up on the last snows left on the moun- tains.

The men nearby have ears of mother of pearl. When she woke up groggily the next morning she had for- gotten about the dream but then it came back to her as she sipped a cup of weak Earl Grey tea. In the evening she was reading, her eyeglasses slowly slip- ping down her nose. La clientela era elegante, portava abiti di velluto, mantelline e abiti da sera, era vestita proprio come le tre igure nel dipinto. Un mare azzurro che si alzava e pulsava di vita virile.

Avrebbe potuto permettersi di comprarlo, non era quello il punto; stava cominciando a pensare che rubarlo avrebbe rappresentato una sorta di vittoria sulla vita, un atto di sida necessaria.

Quella sera stava leggendo, e gli occhiali le scivolavano lentamente sul naso. A man is on his way to the bakery in search of a loaf of bread.

On his way there he comes across a fresh loaf of bread lying on the road. For a moment he hesitates. Should he pick up the loaf and so save himself a visit to the bakery?

Or should he go through with his original plan? In the end he decides to pick up the loaf of bread, which lies in the middle of the road. As he leans over to pick it up he is run over by a bus. By a miracle the loaf stays undamaged. As an ambulance arrives a man turns up and seeing the bread takes it home and eats it. Afterwards she kept thinking about it. She rang a friend, his name was Gilbert, he was extremely myopic and owned a pet snake.

Or maybe the second man gets away with taking the loaf of bread because he never had the intention of going to the bakery as the irst man had, which leads me to the second interpretation: What do you think? Un uomo sta andando al forno per comprare del pane. Per un istante esita. Deve raccogliere il pane per risparmiarsi la visita al forno? O deve continuare a perseguire il suo proposito originale? Alla ine decide di raccogliere lo silatino in mezzo alla strada. Mentre si china per raccoglierlo viene investito da un autobus.

Per puro miracolo, la pagnotta rimane intatta. Che ne pensi tu, Gilbert? She stayed awake until 4 am, reading and drinking wine. She was by then so drunk that if someone had pricked her with a sewing needle she would have felt nothing.

Her limbs were relaxed and inert and her eyes glazed and bloodshot. She rummaged around for an empty bottle of Glenmorangie, a fairly hefty bottle which she had always kept for sentimental reasons.

She stuffed it inside her overcoat and began to walk to the shop drunkenly. She stopped a few feet away from the shop and looked around her. The street was deserted and quiet. The moon seemed to be burning up the sky. Slowly she removed the bottle from her overcoat and crept towards the shop. Gripping the bottle tightly she looked at the poster, admiring it more than ever, its inesse, its subtlety.

She scrutinised the pane of glass, judging it to be quite limsy, no match for the bottle of Glenmorangie. The resulting alarm would probably be dismissed by those awaking to its vile whining as a malfunction. She steadied herself, took aim and hurled the bottle, and it became a missile.

The glass shattered with shocking loudness. A little bit stunned, she scrambled towards the display, avoiding the shards of glass now showered across the pavement. It was only then that she noticed no alarm was sounding. A second later a dog started barking insanely. Carla Maria Russo She grabbed the poster, which was small enough to it under her sprawling overcoat. But nothing, no one. She was back at her lat in a matter of minutes and on her way there she encountered no one.

The world had hardly even batted an eyelid. When she got home from the surgery she breathed a sigh of relief and stared at the poster. Dopo un calice di vino rosso lei concluse che avrebbe dovuto rubare il poster. Rimase sveglia ino alle quattro del mattino, a leggere e bere vino.

I suoi arti erano rilassati e inerti e i suoi occhi vitrei e iniettati di sangue. La strada era deserta e silenziosa. La luna bruciava feroce nel cielo color inchiostro. Solo allora si accorse che non suonava alcun allarme. Il mondo non aveva quasi battuto ciglio. There was a new pane of glass there, thicker. But now, rather than giving her pleasure, each time she looked at the poster, she felt pangs of guilt. Eventually she wrapped it up, shoved it in a parcel, and mailed it back to the shop with an anonymous apology.

She was reading an article about Japanese gardens, in the oven vegetable moussaka was cooking, on a little table stood her goblet of red wine.

She was back to normal, she had practically forgotten the whole thing. Then the phone rang. Why not in a dustbin? Non riusciva a credere di averlo fatto. Il primo tizio vuole uno silatino, ne vede uno per strada, viene messo sotto; il secondo tizio vede lo silatino, lo prende e lo mangia, giusto?

And he was just coming back to claim what was rightfully his? Eventually she went back to the shop and was greatly relieved to see the poster in its frame back in its original spot in the window. He responded to her generosity by taking special care when wrapping it up, tying it in a single brown curling ribbon.

Once she was the rightful and legal owner, clutching it proudly, the fog in her brain inally lifted and life took on a new clarity. As she walked she felt the irst intimations of spring. She stopped in the middle of a quiet street, where hardly any cars passed.

Looking around furtively as though she was about to carry out another crime she laid the poster down gently in the middle of the road. Then she walked home. Ed era semplicemente tornato a riprendersi quello che era legit- timamente suo. Una volta divenuta la legittima proprietaria, stringendolo con orgoglio, la nebbia nel cervello inalmente sollevata, la sua vita assunse una nuova chiarezza.

Poi si diresse verso casa.

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That underwater world was as rich and variegated as the one above. In three they went and they had no need of words, just gestures and signals that they all instinctively understood. Eve- rything down there was disembodied, slow moving, the divers were shadowy, stripped of their faces, hidden behind masks, their skin hidden behind diving suits, their mouths concealed by their breathing apparatus, oxygen cylinders turning their backs bumpy and rounded. The odd refraction of light; soundwaves quelled by the cushioning glory of water and unimpeded space.

Shoals of ish darted this way and that, undisturbed by the three divers, who watched them in fascination. Every now and then a weirdly shaped ish, a tapered apparition rolled and passed by and then twos and threes followed, perfect replicas of one another, clones, recurring moments; their gauzy, distorted forms made the divers think the sea contained more mysteries than any earthly realm.

The truths and feelings to be found down there could not be communicated to anyone who had not been down there, in that dark, luminous abyss, that abstract underwater garden. One of the drivers pointed to a distended shell, half-hidden by a faintly glowing shrub. The shrub seemed to be coated in a phospherescent substance and the tallest of the trio extracted the shell, which resembled a human ear stretched into weird plastic- ity. It sank from end to end like an overburdened rope bridge.

The shell was promptly set down in an underwater case where it took its place with a hundred others like it and yet different. Later on those shells, small, large, odd, intricate, gaudy, plain, would be glued together to create mosaics, mosaics that depicted scenes from Greek mythology. The works went on show at the Mediterranean Art Gallery in the small town of Caphos on the Island and they usually attracted quite a lot of attention and plaudits.

Quel mondo sottomarino era ricco e va- riegato quanto quello soprastante. In tre andavano e non avevano bisogno di parole, solo di gesti e segnali che tutti loro istintivamente capivano. Sprofondava da lato a lato come un ponte di corda sovraccarico. He also ran a taverna with Dora, his wife and fellow diver who was loating close by him.

She reached out an ungloved hand to touch the skin-like surface of the shell. She smiled through her mask and the couple executed a little dance of triumph. As they did so Kirsten, who was the youngest of the trio, felt a little displaced from them. They, after all, were bound by marital vows and the activity of their loins. Kirsten had no such connection to another human soul and she was wary of people.

Only in the sea, in its underwater chambers, in its caress- ing, silent embrace, did she feel truly complete, truly whole and peaceful. Up there, in the earthly world, in the terrestrial shell of noise and strife life was heavy, and people made no sense, with their changing patterns of behaviour, contradictory, selish, and sometimes downright cruel.

The divers began to rise, drifting upwards like elongated shadows of birds borne skywards. They passed great gold corru- gated leaves of macro-algae, moving slowly up and down like giant feather fans, palpitatingly alive.

As the divers spiralled upwards towards the shimmering ceiling of light small ish with black and yellow vertical stripes imitated the arc of their movements, almost as though setting up some wondrous homage to their human coun- terparts. Then the ish sped away, gone, vanishing into the secret places only they knew how to reach. The divers, one by one, glided up to their little diving boat, and climbed up over the side by means of a small metallic ladder, removing their gear and breathing apparatus and placing it all on the stern.

The sun was setting and the air was full of the heady vivid sensations of summer. Overhead the sky was beginning to fade to a pinkish red glow. The moon was already visible and Kirsten spied it with her furtive, shy eyes. How different this scene was to those of her childhood and teenage years, before she had come to embrace her new Mediterranean life.

In the past summer had only ever been at best a tepid affair, in England, where the temperature never rose above the twenties and where the sky was more often than not a screen of clouds and greyness. In England where were the beautifully tanned people, with their miraculously well pro- portioned igures and Grecian elegance and love of life?

Gestiva anche una taverna con Dora, sua moglie e compagna di immersioni, che gli luttuava vicino. Kirsten non aveva un rapporto del genere con un altro animo umano e difidava delle persone. I subacquei cominciarono a risalire, trascinandosi su come ombre allungate di uccelli diretti verso il cielo. Mentre i subacquei salivano a spirale verso lo scintillante sofitto di luce, piccoli pesci a strisce verticali nere e gialle imitavano i loro movi- menti arcuati, quasi a preparare un qualche mirabile omaggio alle loro controparti umane.

Poi i pesci ilarono via, lontano, sparendo nei luoghi segreti dove soltanto loro sapevano arrivare. She preferred this richer, more luscious backdrop, its subtle light, dying now, but all the more beautiful and poignant for it, the endless surface of the sea, ever changing, ever moving, but always a harbinger of calm and joy, the tiny vantage point afforded by their boat, and the salt air, which seemed to hold all the textures of life in its invisible embrace.

They started making their way back to shore, silent and slightly overwhelmed as they tended to be after a dive. Kirsten said goodbye to the couple and walked over to her Volkswagen Beetle, dusty and battered in the sandy driveway that led down to the beach. As a child she had always been accumulat- ing bruises and blisters and seemed to have a knack for harming herself, bumping her head, scraping her knee caps, falling off slides and breaking her wrist, her hip, her nose.

Underwater everything was lighter, friction was robbed of its power to hurt, weight was dissipated. Maybe that was why she loved to dive … She drove back to the village, where she was staying at a villa that the parents of her friend Melissa had bequeathed to her for a few days. The villa contained worlds of old style grace, illed with ethereal pleasures that only Kirsten she liked to think was allowed to taste.

From outside the simple beauty of the indigo blue wooden front door with no lock, just a latch, tantalisingly hinted at the magical dimensions of what lay beyond its threshold.

Normanna la pdf sposa

The door remained without a lock because the locals and the village still existed in a universe of guilelessness. In Caphos everything slowed down, buses were late, coffee was sipped rather than swallowed, the souvlaki was cooked slowly, the hours passed slowly and it did not matter because either the sun or the sea or something ensured that purposefulness could be discarded and it was ine to do abso- lutely nothing and yet somehow it was never boring or oppressive.

Life could be lived merely by observing, meditating, being. Sebbene non capisse le persone, quantomeno preferiva quelle vive e decise a godersi la cosa. La villa conteneva mondi di grazia vecchio stile, colmi di eterei piaceri che soltanto a Kirsten amava pensare lei era permes- so gustare.

Si poteva vivere la vita semplicemente osservando, meditando, essendo. She strove to become one with the water, to move in tireless, perfect patterns as each stroke, each length she managed became a better and better embodiment of technique and elegance. There, in that midnight shrine, outside, as she loated on her back, looking up, she peered into the basin of the night sky and the constellations and clusters of stars were freckles on the face of the universe.

Carla Maria Russo

Here was the perfection she had dreamed of: She swam in wonder and gratitude as the night reached out and made love to her. Further off, walking away from the sea -- a complex of new, ugly apartments which had just been built.

Far, far off, away in the distance, the wreck of a ship was embedded into the horizon. A Turkish freighter with a cargo of timber had got stuck on the twisted rocks some fourteen years earlier and there it sat, a rusty, static monolith of steel and decay.

Tourists sighted it and wondered why it was always there day after day and never shifted until someone pointed out that it would never move again.

Eccola la perfezione che aveva sognato: Vicino alla riva mucchi di scogli formavano minuscole isole che catturavano la luce del sole; i bambini vi si arrampicavano, i genitori si allungavano su di loro. In lontananza, venendo via dal mare, un complesso di appartamenti nuovi, brutti, appena costruiti. She stared at it for hours and some- times shuddered as its dark form became symbolic of pure evil.

An unmoving malevolent presence that, as the shadows of night gathered, became even darker and evocative of damnation. The perpetual stasis of this great decomposing entity seemed truly to carve an incision in the sea. When Kirsten drove her car along the dust road, running parallel to the beach, but at an elevated point, she would always look out for the shipwreck.

And it never failed to appear, it always came round eventually and in a way it had become part of the sea, even as it tarnished it, ensnared by the rocks with which it had begun to fuse.

Kirsten began to feel that in that shipwreck the secret of life lay hidden and gradually it occurred to her that she must somehow confront that shipwreck, come face to face with it. One windy night when the moon was almost full she took out the little diving boat and gradually drifted all the way out towards the shipwreck, afraid and uncertain of what she would ind there but she knew that confronting her fear would bring her some kind of peace.

She half-expected to see grinning corpses. She felt her skin crawl as some nameless dread gathered all around her. She sat frozen at the back of the boat, trying to arrest even the tiniest of bodily movements, even her breathing, looking out for a predator which would leap out at her from the darkness. The moonlight caught patches of the watery membrane around her and the water was illed with unknowable things, and a dark beauty was born.

She inched forward and her horror grew as the waves snarled and crashed ever and again into the derelict hull, as though trying to knock dents in it, and weird phantoms were made in that clash between dead metal and water, weird reverberations that scurried across the body of the ship. Lo issava per ore e a volte rabbrividiva mentre la sua forma scura diventava il simbolo del male puro.

Quando Kirsten guidava lungo la strada polverosa, che correva parallela alla spiaggia, ma in un punto sopraelevato, con lo sguardo cercava sempre il relitto. E quello non mancava mai di fare la sua comparsa, alla ine si faceva sempre vedere e in qualche modo era diventato parte del mare, persino mentre lo ossidava, preso in trappola dagli scogli con cui aveva iniziato a fondersi. Una parte di lei si aspettava di vedere cadaveri ghignanti.

Adrenaline was shooting through every part of her as she pulled out her torch and pointed it at the ship.