Goodbye 2020

“No act of kindness, no matter how small, 

 is ever wasted.”
(Aesop)

ROME – August, 2020

It's a good habit to greet those who are leaving.

Even if going it away does not certainly leave good memories behind.

I wouldn't even want to mention this pandemic, we are all tired of it.

Even the pains after a while are boring.

Then, at least for my part, I tried to truly experience it in the most detached way possible.

Certainly not through unconsciousness, but because I know very well how to think hard about the disease then leads to sickness.

Our body and mind are a magnet: they attract what they pierce.

I may not be a Zen monk, but there is so much to learn from their ability to let the disturbing thought flow away.

A little healthy fatalism, an atavistic repulsion for hospitals and doctors, and here I have spent this year more controlling the demons of my mind than the germs in the air.

Then, after all, I have always been very good at mentally shifting the focus of my worries from one level to another.

It is true that it was a pain to give up traveling, taking photographs, meeting friends, giving lessons, gaining weight at home in the boredom of days all the same; but I was still very angry at having to say goodbye forever to the dream of Malaysia.

Like a chasm that suddenly opens up in front of the running feet: Malaysia, two years, and Bangladesh, one month, and then... Nothingness.

Not even the time to breathe, absorb tears and joys.

Writing saved me, that must be said.

Without a doubt, writing for this blog, for you, was my lifesaver in the storm.

I thought I had by now repudiated writing. Instead, here I am, to thank each of you, who are waiting for the new article every day. The new photo.

As with photography, writing doesn't make sense to me without someone reading. I've never written for myself alone. Just as I prefer not to photograph if I know that then I cannot share what I see.

One of the moments that my mother always tells me is the episode of when I was ten years old and I was having an operation on my heart for the second time: she tells me that every afternoon I gathered all the children in the room, a dozen each in her bedroom divided into glass windows, in mine, on my cot, and I don't know what I was saying but I made them laugh so much that – sometimes it happened – some of them peed in their pajamas.

My mother must have told me about thirty times.

It's hard to interpret yourself after so many years, but I'm glad to believe it was a way of making our pain more tolerant. It's not that being a child makes the pain and sadness less strong.

And laughing until you feel can't resist I think is like medicine.

But above all sharing. Compassion.

All those words that originate from the particle com (with), com-passion, “bear together”, are among the most beautiful words.

So is any form of art or expression for me. It's meant to be shared.

What I see, feel, write, is for you.

And this is how I want to greet this year defined by many as cursed.

Without trying to mention the deaths, the suffering, the disease.

But like the year in which most was shared and “com-pitied”.

Thanks to you, my confidence in the word has come back.

I still think it's easily deceptive, flattering, fallacious, limited, but it all depends on the intention – as in everything.

And the word, like the image, are deeply linked to the human being.

Therefore, let this difficult year let go, without holding a grudge.

Ultimately, trusting our words means learning to trust humans.

There is no better wish for the new year to come.

Thanks again...

ROME – April, 2009

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