BY BELISARIO RIGHI
Everyone should have their own S. Elpidio window.
Once on the occasion of the Easter holidays, I decided to spend a few days in S. Elpidio, a village in the Apennines, not far from Rome.
During the day I enjoyed taking photographs, wandering around the mountains and the countryside and in the evening I read in the small room of the small hotel in the village, where I had taken up residence.
The room was small and had two small windows each placed on one of the two walls on either side of the bed.
The one on the right, overlooked the street, from where the sounds of the tavern below and of an old juke-box came from. Sounds and noise made up the world on which that window opened and perhaps this is why I never opened it. It always remained closed.
The one on the left, on the other hand, looked at a grassy hill, which almost in contact with the window, with its steep conformation almost entirely covered the view, leaving a strip of sky on which floated a few stars floated only at the top of the window frame. his windowsill propped my elbows and looked out.
That little hillock was for me the hill of infinity , the springboard of my imagination.
Beyond it, I imagined a very clear sky and variegated of lights, where the eternal was the point of arrival of my thoughts.
The vastness of that imaginary universe enlivened me and drew me from within the fabulous concepts of things.
I created situations in which beauty and it alone had to be the animating energy of the facts, as if the ugly were banished by a higher Order appointed to this task, because in my soul I found out of place, even sacrilegious, to alter such a state of bliss. , including an impure, iconoclastic force that could have altered such a perfect completeness.
The ugly that I identify with evil has always introduced the anathemical law of survival into things, definitively erasing the memory of the lost Eden, where in spite of the impotence of the Evil One, beauty and prosperity reigned supreme, creating a condition of total happiness.
After all, happiness, which is the eternal mirage of us human beings, I believe needs a healthy and fertile soil to grow luxuriantly.
And I, inside that strip of sky, glimpsed these illusions as in a kaleidoscope.
That window opened up for me a particular and wonderful world and still today, in the boxes of my memory, there is only that window on the left.