What's Partial Braces

cosmogony of Gesualdo Bufalino

Gesualdo Bufalino, the Sicilian writer who said of himself:

"A life like many others, two whole three diseases, two, three half-friend, a melancholic mood with flashes of laughter, and shaking a Christian atheist, inept to understand whether the universe is health or metastasis, grace or disgrace, hatred of the story: pavement of ideological fossil, inert series of errors, a transport for what lasts and resists - places, slang supportive, honest habits, handshakes - lost in the depths of my province. In literature, a love of lies and music, as long as rooted in the fabulous and geometric point of pain and memory. Things I have loved or love: the blues, Verdi and Mozart, silent films, prints (good or bad) of the seventeenth century, Proust and Leopardi's letters, a French song, I know, the problems of chess ... I forgot: "Le clair de lune when, clocher sonnait douze", on the nights of darkness, forty years ago. PS The book for the usual island? Vocabulary ".

With his books resurfaces a remnant of the world breathed a teenager and now there is more if not for me, the memory that resists and contaminates of this. But I suppose there must be. Es Muss Sein. Bufalino wrote with his usual tone voyant that "maybe it really started the collapse of humanism that loved each other, maybe it's just for a break before a new unpredictable leap. None possible that at this very moment, in a nursery school where I do not know, a new Dante, Shakespeare is a new small with uncertain fingers scribbling on a white sheet of the first syllables of a new, unheard alphabet ... "

(To be or Riess)

E 'was the writer perhaps involuntary "sicilitudine" as Sciascia said, not just one island but if the plurality of Sicily came from Sicily "Babba"

"... the Sicilies are many, will not finish counting them. There is Sicily green of the carob tree, the white of salt, the yellow of sulfur, the gold of honey, the purple lava. There is a
Sicily "dad," that is mild to sound silly, a Sicilian "Sperta," that is smart, dedicated to the most practical utility of violence and fraud. There is a lazy Sicily, a frantic, a tapering off in the anguish of stuff, a life that reads like the script of the carnival ... "