No Need For A Melody

I guess you could say I have been known to watch a fair ammount of movies in my day. Popular culture teaches us that films are a great way to interpret and analize reality without even having to live those experiences in first person. Some may call this escapism. Blaise Pascal, XVII century philosopher, talked about "the vanity of divertisement", those out of consciousness activities we engage in in order to, as a matter of fact, avoid reality. It may sound harsh, but through out the years I have begun appreciating this theory. I always seem to relate specific times of my life to a song, a sound, a bit like as if I needed a soundtrack to my emotions, yes, like in a movie.
A couple fo days ago, my itunes random selection brought to my ears "Sometimes you can't make it on your own" by U2 - that song,man,it totally captured a specific time in my life and by simply hearing it I somehow re-lived the same emotions I felt back than...like in a flashback. All this brought me to think this may actually be the first time of my life when I feel lucid, when like a person who has been fasting for a long time you manage to see your self from the out side, like some sort of out of body experience and see yourself and you are exactly how you had always hoped you'd become. Imperfect, with a past filled with mistakes but true, honest, sharp, happy, with no need for a melody, maybe just a wee accompainment. Loving it.

Butterflies

P retty much everybody who knows me is aware of my freaking phobia for any living creature, birds and pigeons especially, that has the ability to fly. I've often been told it is hilarious to watch me screem and fan my hands with no coordination whatsoever at the sight of a pigeon! Having said that I still hold a great deal of respect for God's creative talent and I must admit he did a pretty good job on the butterfly front. Colourful,graceful,wispy,beautiful. Just the other day one of them posed on my friend's shoulder for quite a while until we all notice it and she flew away flapping her wings rapidly into the air. It's been so long. So much time has passed and life has changed and it has changed me with it. It's still me,but different. Sometimes I feel like I have become a different person, but deep inside I haven't - I am just the grown up version (or I'd better say "the growing up" version) of myself. there is somebody I used to love very much,but now this has changed and I have become much less sensitive, yet much more sensible. I no longer hold any feelings at all for that person yet from time to time I am reminded that what I felt, what we had was not nothing - like what I feel now, but it was real,wonderful. The intimacy and understanding, the companionship, the critique, the dialogue, the arguments, the sharing,the jokes,the laughter,the tears,the challenges,the care. I wonder whether I am destined to ever feel butterflies in my stomach at somebody walking into a room, at the simple knowledge of someone being there...

Quiet as a tornado..

Pretty much anyone who knows me,knows me as the most effervescent single girl they have ever met. I have had a few romantic stories. Some of them have changed me profoundly..influenced me into being the person I am today...with some regrets,of couse,as all of those stories did, eventually, come to an end. I love my life, despite all of it's quarky flaws and wrongs. I love being free to like and eat and listen to and watch and read what I like when I like where I like without having to be reliable on or responsable for anyone else. Guess that's called "being in your twenties and appreciating singleness". I have a few highly trusted friends, a zillion acquaintances and I meet dozens of people on a daily basis whom I share life and have fun,and cry and laugh with them but then, I keep a whole inner me secluded home for me to find when I get back..and that seems to be when the fun really starts..when I take my make-up off,put my trackies and my favourite music on..put off lights, light up candles and scented oils and get engrossed into reading,cooking,painting,writing, or merely speculating on the news or some random thought. My sister and her fiancè say they can totally picture me in a couple of decades living with a whole bunch of dogs, sporting long white hair in a dusty country house full of books. Suddenly, someone then walks into your life. As quietly as a tornado, he doesn't sweep you off your feet but worse: he can read you so well to put your foundations down. And you still have no idea of how he did it. And suddenly, even if you have a few trusted friends, a zillion acquaintaices and a few dozen strangers to talk to you wish to hear no-one's voice but his..Unfortunately, he is the one person you have asked to stay out of your life because it scared you how much he got you inside and because,somehow, the mistakes and hurts of the past haunt you worse than a ghoast. I miss you.

As you said, "It's been raining since you and I". Yesterday the sun came out again, but why is it you won't get out of my heart? I miss you.

What if?

Regardless of my many attempts to write a post on the "What ifs" of life, this is the first time I feel daring enough to go through with it.
"No regrets!" has always been my motto, but what if the turn I took, the road I chose, the things I did, felt or said were a different closed envelop than the one I picked? The movie "Sliding Doors" (1998) may not be the best film ever produced and we all might agree on the fact that Gwyneth Paltrow's best feature is Mr Chris Martin, but it is a great starting point for a discussion of what would have happened if someone missed a certain sliding door in life..would that just mean they'd have to catch the next train to the same station or the possibility of commencing a brand new life adventure..
As you all know, I have recently returned back to where it all started from and I am glad I did even if this choice carries along a great deal of implications. Fox is currently showing a TV serial called "October Road" - the show has actually been on for the past year or so, but I have not managed to watch any of it if not the trailer. Apparently it tells the story of an author who returns home after 10 years to face the people he had based his book on. The catch phrase is "because only the fool does not return to the place where he had been happy". I wanna be no fool. Despite my constant criticism of Naples and of the things I disagree of on my hometown, I lived wonderful years here.
Exactly a week ago I was at possibly the swankiest pool party of the year for a dear friend's graduation. Elegant venue, chic dresses, superb cusine, free bar, good music, beutiful young people, warm laughters, genuine affection.. perfect, I'd say. I was at first a little apprehensive about seeing people I had not met in 3,5,10 years even. What would they make of my life story? How would they perceive me? Would I be pretty in their eyes? Don't get me wrong: I am a generally extremely self-confident person, very much at peace with my self and, as I said, with "no regrets". But the situation required a little self awareness, I guess. So I got ready, adjusted the last few details before the mirror by the entrance door and entered into a new/familiar world. Beyond any of my expectations, it was like being once again the popular girl in jr high, but I did not have to pretend to be anyone else but me. After a couple of years of feeling worthless, ugly and misunderstood, I felt..well..at home!
All this often made me wonder on whether ever going away was the right choice.. what if the cute young doctor who was chatting me up had been a classmate of mine five years ago, what if I hadn't snobbed off that group of people, what if I had never fallen in love with the guy who ended up scarring me for life, what if..what if..what if...!??!?!?!
But the answer is always the same: you cannot judge life backwards because the person we are today is inevitably the result of experience - the right choices and the wrong turns alike.

Scarlet

I often find myself reminiscing about my childhood. Maybe because it was a carefree, happy period of my life – the best dare I say. Possibly because deep down I am disappointed with the way I have turned out to be as an adult…do I really match up to the woman I dreamt of becoming as a little girl. Maybe I just find it hard to accept the fact that, in reality, I don’t seem to have changed that much. Tonight, for instance, I feel lonely and rejected like that one time when I walked over the lizard all the boys were playing with, thus ending the ‘game’, I guess. They hated me at that particular moment and made sure I knew about it too. Fair enough everything was soon forgiven and forgotten, but their refusal upset me a great deal. I remember I cried for hours…even ended up vomiting on my parents costume-made silk sate. They weren’t impressed either but, like today, they were understanding of me. Parents. Shortly after the lizard episode, we were climbing up trees again, but that period in between my peers rejection and one of them knocking on our front door whilst the others were waiting on the landing trying to look the least mischievous they could (useless attempt must say..), hurt me, like this self perceived distance is hurting me now. Even though we are not climbing up trees anymore, I am still waiting for you to knock on our front door, hold my hand again and hear you say, ‘She is my best friend!” – with pride, joy, nostalgia, awe.

“Teach a child the way that he should walk, and even when he will be old, he shall not depart from it” Proverbs.

A Year...

The changability of life is an issue that will possibly never cease to intrigue me. Life that moves,changes,evolves somehow. As most people, I have a little "End of the Year" ritual - I assess the year that has just gone by and ponder upon valuable or less significant changes I would like to see in the coming year. In other words, I think...way too much. Nevertheless, I have always found this sort of meditation on life really handy in giving me better direction, more precise goals, aim better and, one would hope, make things better each year. Sometimes I manage,sometimes I fail, sometimes I learn from it all. This year has been incredibly difficult on so many levels, but I stand here with a smile on my face, a tranquil and serene smile, because I now know for a fact that what doesn't break us, makes us stronger indeed. A year ago I made a set of good intentions and resolutions for 2007. I randomly stumbled upon them again this morning to discover, to much of my surprise, that, with the exception of improving my French, all of them did come true!! May be not in the way I had thought those things would take place, but eventually they all happened and I am much better off as a result! But this is certainly not meant to be a paternalistic, condiscending message of victory, but an attempt to keep on trying to improve. If I could give a title to this year like one gives a title to a book, it would probably be "The Year of the Second Chances" - rarely does it happen at my young age to be given an opportunity to be transferred back to their life when they were half the age they are now and facing people and circumstances with a newly acquired sense of maturity, stability, experience and self confidence. I feel truly blessed for this. I truly do not want to mess it all up this time around. So here it is to second chances and the experiences which have made us the people we are!

Facing the Demons

When I was seven, a little girl found the skeleton of a homo-sapience lying on a beach somewhere along the Northern African coast. An archeology enthusiast back then, I was totally thrilled by the news and sat closely by the telly in order to see the presenter unveil this remarkable historical discovery. Little did I know at the time that putrefied skeletons are not much of a pretty sight and I spent the evening being terrorized by flashing images of the once cave man. At night, I reluctantly waved my parents good-bye, made my way upstairs and walked into the darkened bedroom. Lying in bed I kept on being haunted by those images I had seen earlier on the screen. I shivered, I was scared then, I vividly remember, I sat up in the middle of the bed, turned my wee side table lamp on and gave myself a little declaration about why I shouldn't have been afraid of a dead man. For a dead man cannot do me any harm; same reasoning went for beetles, who are too small compared to me, ghosts, insects, animals, monsters and all sort of creepy creatures. The same reasoning goes for most things still now. Guess in many ways Faith has helped me exorcise a lot of fears and made me a much braver person. Time changes us, man, doesn't it change us. I have now returned to an old reality, to the things I loved and I had forgotten I did, to the places I always liked, the mentality I could never embrace, the people I disagreed so much with, but never felt adequate enough to confront. Now a much older, hopefully wiser, woman I face the world with very little fear. It doesn't mean that I have the answers to everything, nor that I am fearless or invincible. It is just that with the light on, even in the middle of the night, it becames much easier to face monsters, demons, life.

Harvest Justice

That's it: tomorrow summer officially begins. June 21st, the longest day of the year. Summer: the sunshine, the trees in bloom, succulent water melons, water games, the beach. I love it, I love it, I love it. I love the zest of lime squeeze on grilled fish. The sun on my skin. The smell of mature yellow peaches in sweet white wine. The taste of apricots that melt on your tongue ever so slowly. My grandad used to call me, and often still does, 'the little apricot lady'. He delights in telling the tale of the day I was born. A hot summer day when they were picking apricots in the fields and they had to rush to the hospital because little baby me was born - with a two week delay... Then growing up, in the shadow of my grandparents, spending my summers playing about around convivial apricot pickers. Then making jams and fruit juices in my grandma's kitchen out of the more ripen ones. In goes the sugar, the hot water bubbling away in the scorching sun, the stench of chicken's poo (which God knows why you are told 'is good for ya'!) mixed to the fragrant aroma of blended fruits..a cheeky little finger stealing a taste of the precious nectar..Nana telling you off, then my little hurt frown, then her heartily laugh; she chocks a little from too much laughing, her voluptuous figure fluttering, then brings her wrist to her face and one at a time swiftly dries her eyes from tears of joy. There is no-one in the whole wide world like my nana! I started off writing this post with a completely different agenda in mind - now, having stumbled upon some beautiful memories, I realize how lucky and blessed I have been. I received some of the most precious gifts in this world: life, a great family and, above all, the gift of a truly happy childhood. I wonder how many people can count on that.

Treasure Hunt on the Traces of a Beautiful History - Gli Amici Ritrovati

Neapolitan gulf:The view from my parents'!

Sitting at my desk in my Manchester office, looking outside of the window at a concrete city hovered by a berely illuminated sky..I am feeling invigorated, energetic, nostalgic. I had the break of a life-time on the traces of a past I thought was lost; however, it was never lost, it was simply concealed under a pile of papers which are effortlessly blown away by the gentle summer breeze..It is wonderful to speak not only the same language, but to share a common story. I love you all very much; I have missed you!!!

Seduta alla scrivania del mio officio di Manchester, guardo fuori dalla finestra ad una citta' di cemento, coperta da un cielo appena illuminato..mi sento invigorita, energica, nostalgica. Ho trascorso giorni stupendi sulle tracce di un passato che credevo perso; ma non era mai stato smarrito, era piuttosto nascosto sotto ad un mucchio di fogli che sono facilmente rimossi dalla dolce brezza estiva..com'e' meraviglioso parlare non solo la stessa lingua, ma coindividere una storia comune. Vi amo tutti tantissimo; mi siete mancati!!!

The Family
My mom has just had the results from her post-theraphy tests which, insofar, all came out negative. She is still quite weak, but we cannot stop but praise God for what appears to be an increadible answer to prayer. In this instance, I would wholeheartedly like to thank you all for your support and encouragement. May God reward you double-fold for all of your kindness.

Mia madre ha appena ricevuto i risultati dalle sue prime analisi post-terapia e, fino ad ora, sono risultate tutte negative. Si sente ancora abbastanza debole, ma non possiamo fare altro che ringraziare Dio per questa che sembra essere una risposta a tante preghiere. A questo proposito, colgo l'occasione per ringraziarvi del vostro supporto ed incoraggiamento. Possa Iddio ricompensarvi del doppio di tutta la vostra compassione.

The Friends

Laura (aka 'Corpo, "the body") and I in San Martino and Parco Virgiliano. Good friends, good times!



Me and Ida (aka Super Zeta) - The sweetness!

"But sometimes you close your eyes and see the place where you used to live when you were young"- The memorable Via Scarlatti.

Me and Vale (aka Valina/Gazzella, "The Gazelle"), hadn't seen each other in five long years but it's like as if time had never passed. I am so proud of her! (BTW, I swear I am not sticking my middle finger at anyone! Accidents happen!) (",)

Pop, happily singing away in the car..

My Transport! I love to feel the wind on my face!


















Sunbathing in the garden..

Happy, our fam dog!

Ho Voglia di Te - The Update You Have All Been Waiting For

A brief phone call, the sound of what used to be a familiar voice and it's like as if time had never passed. Ten years, whatever stage in life you may be at, it's a long time. When we were last together, his little sister was only three. She is now a teen-ager. When we last were together, we used to think the Spice Girls were the next big thing. At the age of thirteen, everything seems like a major struggle, a drama. You think that your greatest achievement will be to get out of high school, yet you dream big: senselessly and fearlessly. You think that you know what real love is. I think you do; I think that when you are thirteen you know a lot more about emotions than most people would give you credit for - it's just that that wonderful little butterfly is bottled up in a glass jar by hormonal tempests, inexperience, youthfulness. Ah, to be free like a thirteen year old again, but with the experience of a 24 year old! I think this is just what happened to me yesterday. A brief phone call, the sound of an all too familiar voice made me feel emotions I did not think I could feel ever again. We talked for quite a while and I felt happier than I have been in quite sometime. In my previous relationship, I was always trying too hard to impress this un-impressible man, thus forgetting myself, the real me, the things I love, the person I want to be; I was on the phone to this wonderful person from my past and I suddenly felt like a re-invigorated, spring butterfly who is no longer afraid to show her true colours, her true self. It was a wonderful symphony. It was easy and beautiful to be me. I even wrote a small poem about the revitalizing emotions of the past few days. I felt like poetry, beauty, sunshine, laughter, wonder. At the sole thought of this wonderful young man. To the point: I only managed to get through to him the day before I left - he was all and beyond I thought he would have become, well on his way to making his childhood dreams come true. Unfortunately, we couldn't meet, but we parted with a lot of joy and the prospect of seeing each other again next time I am home in a few weeks time..."Ho voglia di Te", is the title of an iconic teen-age novel and homonymous Italian movie by Federico Moccia. It literally means "I feel like you", "I have a desire of you" sort of. Self explanatory?!

Tiziano Ferro, "Ti Scattero' una Foto"(Nessuno e' Solo) from the movie "Ho Voglia di Te"

An Ache of the Heart

Dear fellow bloggers,
Considering that a number of you have never even met me in person, I feel like I owe you all some explanations.

First of all apologies for Friday's depressing post. I am not a compulsive winger. I am generally an incredibly bubbly and happy person. I wake up every morning (most days) with a big grin of joy on my face; I don't really walk: I tend to bounce a lot. I laugh rumourously (my wee sis is so embarrassed of my 'heartily' laugh). I am honest; I am outspoken. One of my ex-boyfriends always used to say that for all my love for talking, when it comes to emotions, feelings, I needn't really have to say a word because my face and my eyes in particular are like a mirror to my soul; guess that you could say that 'what you see is what you get' with me. Throughout life's heart aches, hard times and disappointments, I have been renown for lifting my head up and carrying on. However, the last six months have thrown a lot at me, more than I sometimes think my heart can bear. I am bubbly, in-your-face, self-confident (cocky?!?!), but it doesn't mean that I don't hurt!!!!
Since my upheaval first started, I feel like I have made steady progress; I feel like I have re-discovered a passion for Life in all its fullness, rolled up my sleeves again and continued to strive. Nonetheless, behind that self-motivation, aspirations, optimism, Faith and dreams, there is a very fragile heart. Despite all the gains, I walk about the streets feeling constantly bereaved, lost. My mom is doing a great deal better; we are now waiting for the results from her final tests to see how well she has responded to treatment. Despite not getting into med school first time around, I have been offered to do an Mph in pharmaceutical research which will be contributing greatly towards my future medical studies; with the loss of my uncle, I have seen God's comfort being generously poured over my auntie and family. In feeling rejected by the person I thought I loved the most in this world, I have been hurting a lot but I am also experiencing a surreal dispensation of divine grace : I have chosen not to beg, not to be miserable, not to be nasty, but to do right by and keep on loving that person unconditionally (even when that means to get nothing in return or to occasionally and involuntarily be trampled over emotionally) I have good friends; a job; a home; family, clothes to wear and food to eat; I have Faith. . But I guess we have all been there - such is life and I will soon be back to full strength, blogging about music gigs, humanitarian enterprise, happiness, movie reviews, holidays. My only concern was that I did not want to 'bottle it all up', pretending that everything is alright whilst feeling subconsciously and emotively shattered, exhausted. That's why I blog. Writing is a cathartic expression of my soul. Often the expressing itself, represents the cure. Other times your thoughts inspire me to be a better person, to love others more and also to love myself a bit better. SO, apologies for the whining and please, do keep on reading and commenting, even when I write a lot of bull! Your honesty may help to keep me sane!!!!!

Il Richiamo della Patria

~The Home Land Appeal~

Giuseppe Pellizza da Volpedo, Il Quarto Stato

When I first moved to England, a whole five years ago, I had never lived in a foreign country before. Despite my academic knowledge of the English language, I had had little opportunities, if none at all, to actually speak English with the natives. Upon my arrival, I bumped into Merle, a delightful young Northern Irish lass, who warmly welcomed me and beckoned me as a dear friend. She talked and talked and talked. As we finished our conversation, I rushed down the phone to my mother complaining I could not possibly live in England due to my lack of understanding of the English language (little did I know about regional accents and dialects)..Shortly after that first encounter, not only I resolved in not leaving, but I also became really close to that girl to the point of gaining my memorable nickname "the Wee Italian Chick" together with a dodgy Irish twang! I have loved living in England (to much of most people's surprise). Despite the lack of regular sunshine, yummy food and exotic scenarios, I have embraced the dales, the streams, the daffodils in spring and the squirrels. The pizzeria has been substituted by the pub and I now don't swing across motorway lanes in as much as I used to. One does not often hear me say this, but I am suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of non-belonging, a spell of homesickness.
Last night I looked around the traditional English pub I was sat at (motive of curiosity and wonder upon my arrival, now transformed into a 'ghost house', the emblem of somewhere I don't belong to any longer, or where,perhaps, I never really belonged). Maybe it is all the Italian dinner parties I have been attending recently, the warm summer nights, my family situation, the self perceived failure at a number of levels in my life.. I don't know. Don't get me wrong: I breeze through an unusual sense of contentment and peacefulness at the moment; yet, I miss Home. I miss my family; I miss my 'historic' friends; I miss that part of me, my Italian-ness, which I have sought so hard to deny and leave behind for the past five years.. Am I going through a 'fifth-year-crisis"?!

Learning to Say Goodbye

She was thirteen when they first met. He was a mere four years older. Two very different people. She was beautiful, firey, passionate, outspoken; he was quiet and placid, sensitive, honourable, remarkably intelligent. But, somehow, they saw something in each other. They completed one another and love tied them together. By the time she was fourteen, they got together..and were an inseparable item for nearly thirty years. The couple got married when she was 18 and their first born boy shortly arrived. They were happy. As he was a high court lawyer, an academic professor and prestigious writer and she had long abandoned to think of an academic career for herself (especially since she was the mother of a young child). Nevertheless, he believed in her and encouraged to live her dreams, to dream out loud. She did and her legal expertise became in high demand very soon. Love kept on growing alongside their joint careers and lives. They depended on one another and were willing to sacrifice themselves for their spouse. I have always believed that with real love comes a willingness to invest, sacrifice, give up one's life for the other. Theirs was real love indeed. Whilst she was pregnant, he was diagnosed with an incurable illness..from there after, every day of life was an incomprehensible blessing and priceless gift from God. Twenty one years later, that life was taken away together with an unfailing faith and remarkable person. This is the story of Renato Branno, my uncle, who God called home last night after over twenty years of suffering. We never spent a great deal of time together, but he is one of my heroes in life. He taught me to dream, to dream out loud. He was very cunning, reflective, attentive yet, somehow, he always managed to see the best in people - even in me. In the face of everyone else putting me down for taking uncostumary decisions, he stood by me and cheered my passion for God and life and Justice. Last time we saw each other, he had tears in his eyes and thanked me for making him see life and the world through my eyes, through the places I go, the people I meet, the things I do and the way I fight. I was so honoured and privileged to ever even know someone as extraordinary as him, my uncle. He had a wicked taste in music (he was an outstanding guitarist and pianist himself), quick-witted, sophisticated yet down to earth, knowledgeable (he could talk with property and confidence about from ancient philosophy to Peter Kay and back to current affairs..a genius!). I shall miss him loads; nevertheless, I paradoxically have one more reason to live: to honour his memory and continue his vision. I am not good at saying goodbye, but I am trying to learn.

In loving memory of Renato Branno, 1959 - 2007

The Last Kiss

On Sunday morning I managed to go for a jog in a park nearby my parents' house. 'La Villa Floridiana' is a park that is very dear to me. It is a beautiful woodland of mythological beauty, full of neoclassical statues and overlooking the stunning Neapolitan gulf. When I was growing up we used to dream we lived in the refined Baroqueske villa (now housing a prestigious museum of ceramics), played football, lied on the warm grass on the spring days, gazed at the breathtaking panorama as muses, poets and artists inspired our young minds. It was always my gateway (often my 'runaway') place. It was often our gateway from school too! Whenever we used to bunk off school, 'fare filone' as we say, it is mostly the Floridiana we would be hiding in.. As I was running around on Sunday morning I was constantly distracted by a flood of memories. My first 'proper' boyfriend, Stefano, a real teen-age gentleman, who kissed my fingers better when I cut myself picking hollies for the Christmas play when we were 11. My first kiss; my first date. Holding hands walking around the park, sitting on the bench under the shadow of the big oak tree as he, looking into my eyes, pays me complements carry in my heart to this day..As I was trying to run, I was drown to think of a time when things were good, life was easy, the sun was shining most days. My childhood and early teens have been very happy and I never knew how to be thankful enough for it back then. I was talking to a friend yesterday, ironically walking around a park,and we jokingly reminisced about how sure we used to be of things when we were teenagers. Like stubbornly believing we were the ones who had the answers, who knew what love, I mean "real Love", is. Then we grow up, take responsibility, become less cocky and less confident. We laugh about teenage strops and moods, yet secretly wish we could go back in time, knew then what we know now and still have that waist line! I first watched "L'Ultimo Bacio", The Last Kiss, by Gabriele Muccino (The Persuit of Happyness) when I was 15. Somehow it became an instant iconic movie for my generation and its soundtrack was immediately adopted as the soundtrack of our lives. It is bizarre, however, how it was only years later that those concepts, images and words became truly relevant to our lives. In the movie Carlo (Stefano Accorsi) is a twenty-nine-year-old man who works in an advertisement business and has been living with his girlfriend Giulia (Giovanna Mezzogiorno) for three years. When she gets pregnant and he meets the stunning eighteen-year-old Francesca (Martina Stella), his relationship with Giulia moves into a crisis, since he is not ready to reach adulthood. Francesca has a crush on Carlo and dreams of him. His three best friends also have problems with their partners: Adriano (Giorgio Pasotti) has just had a son and has problems with taking the responsibilities of fatherhood, while his wife Livia (Sabrina Impacciatore) becomes very connected to the baby, neglecting their marriage; Alberto (Marco Cocci) has no ties with any woman, limiting to use them sexually; and Paolo (Claudio Santamaria) has a obsession for his former lover. Meanwhile, Giulia's mother, Anna, (Stefania Sandrelli) has a middle-age crisis, jeopardizing her marriage..living in the shadow of times long gone. Eventually their turmoils are quietened down by an unexpected sense of contentment. Growing up is part of life and accepting the passing of time can reserve for us wonderful surprises related to our new age besides arthritis, wobbly knees and wrinkles! So, here is to GROWING OLD!
L'ultimo Bacio, Carmen Consoli

Non,Je Ne Regrette Rien!

When I was four my parents brought back an antique XIX century grammophon from one of their frequent Parisian get-aways. Although by that stage we already had LP vynil players and tape recorders (brings to mind this post about "Feeling older than we should"),this stylish looking old music box,was real box of delights. Maybe because the only discs we had for it were either classical or 30's French music, every time the grammophon was playing our living room would be transformed into an aristocratic Tzarist-era style ball room where imaginary cortesans and gentlemen of noble origins would dance elegantly at the sound of steady walzers and intellectual Bohemian artists converse intensely sitting in the sun on a cold afternoon outside a cafe in Montmatre like as if they had just stepped out of a Van Gogh or a poster by Tolouse Lautrec. My imagination has always been allowed to run wild! It is around about that time that I was first introduced to the magnific Madame Piaf, a real icon in French music. We all have heard chansons as "La vie en Rose" and "Je Ne Regrette Rien" - well, she is the rapturing voice behind them! I often think of my life as a movie in progress with flashbacks, crucial points, soundtrack and all. And, at moments like this especially, there are songs and sounds which accompany me through resounding in my head. "Je Ne Regrette Rien" is one of those at the moment. When your dreams are shattered, it is inevitable to feel feelings of dispair and resentment whereby one regrets past actions, emotions and situations. However, I am there with Edith Piaf: "The good and the bad I shall not regret; I will put the pieces together and start again!" Here is a rare performance of Piaf singing this song (courtesy of YouTube) and at the bottom are the lyrics and its litteral translation. Enjoy.

Non! Rien de rien ...
Nothing, nothing at all

Non ! Je ne regrette rien
Nothing, I do not regret anything

Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait
Not the good you have done to me

Ni le mal tout ça m'est bien égal !
Nor all the bad that is also good!

Non ! Rien de rien ...Non ! Je ne regrette rien...
C'est payé, balayé, oublié
It is paid for, swept off, forgotten about

Je me fous du passé!
I have been through

Avec mes souvenirs
With my souvenirs

J'ai allumé le feu
I have lit a fire

Mes chagrins, mes plaisirs
My sorrows, my pleasures

Je n'ai plus besoin d'eux!
I don't need them anymore!

Balayés les amours
Vanished the love

Et tous leurs tremolos
And I shake all the time

Balayés pour toujours
Sweep off every day

Je repars à zéro ...
I am start again from square one…

Non ! Rien de rien ...Non ! Je ne regrette nen ...

Ni le bien, qu'on m'a faitNi le mal, tout ça m'est bien égal !Non ! Rien de rien ...Non ! Je ne regrette rien ...Car ma vie, car mes joies
For it my path, for it my joys

Aujourd'hui, ça commence avec toi !
Today I start with you!