1 I sessanta nomi dell'amore

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1 I sessanta nomi dell'amore
"Tahar Lamir's I sessanta nomi dell'amore (2006):
the Limits of the Italian Language in Expressing Love"
The structure of The Sixty Names of Love (2006) is that of a framing narrative. In
choosing this model, Lamri follows remarkable examples such as The Thousand and One
Nights (Alf Laylah wa Laylah) and Boccaccio's Decameron1 both collections of oral
stories evolved into works of literature, and in both works the narrative framework is of
great relevance as it creates a crucial link between the cultures and the stories it mirrors.
In my discussion I will focus on the narrative framework of The Sixty Names of Love,
rather than the short stories that it contains. I examine the love story narrated in the
framework as an allegory of the writer's linguistic affair between his linguistic and
cultural background and the Italian language and culture.
It is perhaps unusual to start a discussion of literature with numbers and statistics,
but this may help to better understand the passionate discussion made by Tahar Lamri, an
Algerian writer living in Italy.
According to ISTAT (Istituto nazionale di statistica), Italy had 56,694.360
inhabitants in 1990. In 2008 that number had grown to 59,619.290. A major factor in this
population growth is in the number of immigrants choosing Italy as a destination. Last
year, according to ISTAT, 434,245 immigrants set foot in Italy, and if we look at recent
years, we will find that in 2007 and 2003 the numbers were much larger. Naturally the
birth rate, school population, and other aspects of Italian society are impacted. The face
of Italy is changing. The demographic changes are tangible in the adjustments society has
had to make in schools and markets. As a consequence, the Italian cultural landscape has
changed as well, and the literary works of Tahar Lamri illustrate these changes. Tahar
Lamri was born in Algeria in 1958. He moved to Libya in 1979 to complete his studies in
law. After having resided in France and other European countries he moved to Ravenna,
Italy in 1986.
Tahar Lamri is considered a "migrant writer." To understand this rather new
definition within Italian literature it is important to understand the difference between an
"immigrant" and being a "migrant." The former defines an individual who is part of the
"global phenomenon of people moving from one location to another country." 2 However,
the definition of "migrant" is more complex, and mirrors various literary experiences of
immigrants who are writers and write in the language of the country where they now live.
According to scholar Graziella Parati: "The migrant writer deterritorializes Western
cultures into a text [...] Writing in Italian also involves an act of territorial appropriation
[...'] By becoming writers, migrants as carriers of different cultures destabilize the local
cultures in which they settle." 3 Lamri seeks to conquer the territory of Italian literature
by trying to find his own place among Italian dialectal and regional writers and poets or
other "Migrant Writers." Some examples are the Italian Stefano D'Arrigo4 who wrote in
Sicilian, a language that Lamri considers: "a Mediterranean language that contaminates,"5
Gezim Hajdari a writer "who torments himself in Albanian and writes in Italian," and
Alberto Masala6, a poet who "torments himself in Sardinian and writes in Italian." By
doing so Lamri is trying to find his own unique place in Italian literature. With regard to
The Sixty Names of Love, Lamri explains that for him, writing in Italian is to "live in the
Italian language, to cohabitate with it and make it cohabitate with my other maternal
languages (Algerian dialectal Arabic, Arabic, and in a certain sense, the French
language)"7 (7). This has nothing to do, of course, with the invention of a new language,
but, as he explains in his Avant-propos to the book, he believes in the possibility "to
cultivate the illusion of the primordial identity in a foreign language."8 (8) For Lamri,
expressing himself in Italian means keeping alive his many identities through a visible
written path of "parole coricate, allineate su diverse righe" (8): "lines of words aligned
and laying down in rows of lines" that allow the author a 'circular pilgrimage' from one
identity to another, and an inter-weaving of linguistic, personal, and cultural experiences.
Writing is for Lamri the way to assert himself within the Italian cultural panorama and
society. Nonetheless, this language choice is not void of contradictions and presents some
obstacles. Lamri says: "it takes us on a path never visited before by the Italian language
[...] and it shows us its pleasant and paradoxical relationship with the world."9 (192) The
difficulties of the relationship between the Algerian writer and the Italian language are
illustrated through the love story between two writers: the Italian writer Elena and the
Algerian Tayeb: their love story is an allegory to show how human beings from different
countries must learn to cohabitate with their reciprocal cultures and languages, if they
want to enjoy peaceful and loving relationships.
In The Sixty Names of Love the couple Elena Romagnoli and Tayeb Saadi, are an
Italian writer and an Algerian intellectual living in the Emilia-Romagna region in
Northern Italy. She has been inspired by the discovery that in Arabic there are about sixty
words or expressions that express the word "love", and wants to write a story for each of
them. An e-mail message by a mutual friend introduced Elena to Tayeb, believing that he
might be the right person to assist her in that task. Elena would like to have the list of the
Arabic words and their translations. The exchange of e-mail messages soon becomes an
inter-cultural love story. Elena sends the first message on July 16th, 2004 and the last one
is by Tayeb and is dated January 20th, 2005.
Tahar Lamri uses this love story to depict his desire as a migrant writer to
cohabitate harmoniously in a culture distant from his native one, without erasing his
native language, memories, and traditions. But this cohabitation cannot happen in a void
of feelings of acceptance, tolerance and love for other human beings. Therefore conflicts
must be expected, faced, and, perhaps, resolved with a compromise. The love story that
Lamri invents is therefore an allegory for the cohabitation of language and cultures. In
fact, in their love story Tayeb and Elena engage in considerable word play with the
Arabic and Italian languages and their roots, trying to find and create as many links as
possible between them, seeking to establish the 'cohabitation' sought by the narrator.
They also consider the difficulties of writing, especially the transposition of oral stories
into their written form. At the same time, critical cultural differences are also discussed.
In the first e-mail message sent by Elena we see that the story is already defined
by a language problem: her wish to have the list of Arabic words meaning "love" and
their translations is, for her, directly connected to their translation in Italian. Tayeb
responds to Elena saying that he does not have that list, but he knows of a book that
contains it. This book is difficult to find, but he promises that he will try to find a copy. In
his eloquent and warm response, Tayeb tries to explain that the core of the Arabic
language is impregnated with a "strong emotional power."10 (11) This is why, he
explains, God has 99 names, the lion has 50, and so on. He also says that the list of the
almost 60 names of love had been collected by the 13th century Arab poet Ibn Qayyim
al-Jawzieh11, the author of the rare book. Together with his message Tayeb attaches one
of his stories, the first of the seventeen he will send to Elena as attachments. Since the
beginning we have the impression that Tayeb wishes to avoid a dry translation from
Arabic to Italian vocabulary that is the "list", as Elena defines it. Tayeb shows from the
first message that the teaching of Arab culture must accompany any translation.
Tayeb's explanations strike a chord and have the power to ignite something in
Elena. Like the love book that brought together Paolo and Francesca, the two infamous
lovers celebrated by Dante in the fifth Canto12 of the Inferno, it is in discussing love that
Elena and Tayeb fall in love. Thus in her second message, she changes her business-like
language into a more intimate and whispered way of communicating. Then, smitten by
his generosity to help, she proposes to use the tu (informal you in Italian) instead of lei
(formal Italian you). As she waits for the book, Elena asks Tayeb to tell her about the
most common word in Arabic to say "love." Tayeb responds that according to Qayyim alJawzieh, 'Hobb' is the root of the word, but this is only "one of the possibilities" (p.34).
Tayeb says:
From 'Hobb' derives the word 'mahabba'. Both 'Hobb' and 'mahabba' mean 'love'. The
latter one also indicates divine love. Rabea El-Aadawea was the greatest poetess of divine
love in Islam, this is an example of her poetry:
Love assails me and it is like blood in my veins
It effaces me to replenish me with my beloved
My beloved penetrates each part of my body
Only the name remains of me
All the rest is Him. (35)13
Tayeb is not just translating, he is also elaborating on the meaning and nuances of Arabic
words about love; he is explaining love. To make Elena understand what "love" is in the
Arab culture, he also refers to the love story "Mountain" that she had written.
"However for me it belongs to the Western world. The Western world is perhaps
obsessed with the 'I', broken down into body and soul, at this point it cannot reconcile
with itself, perhaps because it has too many desires, so many, that a whole life cannot
satisfy them. I am not saying that your text communicates this. But for me it goes on this
path. It is a point of view."14 (35)
For Tayeb, love in the Western world is very different from the description given by
Rabea because in the Western world love is seen as apart or detached from the divine and
the soul.
Tayeb's perspective fascinates Elena more and more, so much that she seems to
really understand what love is for the first time, and on August 7th she writes:
"Yesterday I read and re-read the definitions of these names of love, and it seems to me
that I am discovering not a language but life itself. "15 (41)
On his side, Tayeb seems to treat Elena like raw material. The substance is there but it
must be polished. This is how he expresses his feelings on August 18th:
"Because you are very sweet, but sometimes, it seems to me, you fight a little against this
sweetness. You do not want to be invaded totally by your sweetness. It is just an
impression. At the same time you are strong as a vortex because you have a very acute
sensibility and a strong intuition that you want to keep absolutely under control, therefore
it seems to me, in you cohabitate contradictory feelings [...]"16 (95)
Tayeb underlines in a delicate manner his concerns about the Western qualities of his
lover. A few days later in a message dated August 22nd he reiterates how love should be
expressed between lovers.
"In love, instead, to have the revelation of the other one must learn to lose one's own
initiative: I am listening, I can feel the vibrations, I am listening to what you say, I am
reading your verbs and your adjectives, after having read I wait to see the signs they
leave on me, to not deform your words, to feel them as they were pronounced. It is the
hands that caress the shivers on the back of the other, it is the gaze and color of the eyes,
it is the sentiments both noble and profound. It is the fingers that play with hair locks not
to leave them orphans."17 (117)
Love means therefore letting go of oneself and becoming the other.
Clearly, Tayeb's passion and magistral writing demonstrate that he is the vortex in
the relationship. In the midst of their story she is the one following his master plan, as we
see in the creation of their unique list of love words. It starts with Tayeb's efforts to
demonstrate links and analogies between Arabic and Italian words. Elena follows Tayeb's
hints like an attentive disciple, and together they assemble a word chain from "hobb" to
"avere" (from 'love' to 'to have'). Tayeb had already explained that "Hobb" and
"Mahabba" mean "love." Later Tayeb addresses Elena as "habibati" ("my love"). Then,
in the title of his Sept. 8th message we read the word "Abitare" (to inhabit).
"To inhabit the body of the other. I am happy that you inhabit in me body mind or soul. I
am happy that you occupy all the possible space."18 (140)
This beautiful poetic image is mirrored in Elena's next message.
"Abitare (to inhabit) is a word that says much of us [...] The etymology of Habitare is
similar to 'avere' (to have), it belongs to a different time, the time of love [...] especially if
we know how to inhabit. I learned from you that one may inhabit a language [...] this is
why I like the assonance 'habibati' and 'habitat.'" (145)
Together Tayeb and Elena have given a poetic form to their love with the words hobb,
mahabba, habibati, abitare, and avere, also through the repeated alliterations of the
phonemes ho/ha/a and b/ba/bi, and the passage from the labial sound "b" to the fricative
"v." These sounds echo in a beautiful way what love truly is: to have and inhabit each
For the writer the poetic cohabitation of love words (from Arabic, Italian and
Latin) created by the lovers mirrors what he seeks as a migrant writer: to inhabit the
Italian language, and to experience the circular journey from oral to written languages.
The writing of this story is therefore an opportunity to narrate himself.
On the other hand the presence of the short stories serves different functions. The
short stories that Tayeb sends to Elena are quite different. They are about immigrants in
Italy, children of immigrants returning to their parents' countries, the condition of women
in Arab countries, the influence of modernity in non-Western lands, pre-conceptions and
even superstitions in both Western and non-Western societies. Yet, one major function is
to show the true challenge of transposing oral stories into written ones. In fact, as Elena
reads them, she wants to learn how Tayeb works the oral narrative into written form. In
her message of August 20th she asks:
"[...] your texts are narrations that are inspired by the oral transmission of stories and
knowledge, what happens to the text in this passage?"20 (99)
Tayeb explains how difficult in fact this is:
"[...] oral narration must always take into account the interlocutor...[...] In certain regions
of Africa one must never speak in the morning before having rinsed one's own mouth."21
Westerners are often inconsiderate of other cultures. They are lacking in respect and the
ability to listen, and too often rely on stereotypes, thus
"[...] the word has lost sense [...] It seems to me that words have become desperately
useless, often they break on the interlocutor, instead of entering him.
Thus the foreigner who, by definition, is misplaced and subject to
misunderstandings, does not speak, but rather is spoken to, and there is always a tendency
to read what he would like to say, and would not like to say [...] as if the foreigner's word
were a pleonasm and his truth, that is his profound truth demonstrates lack of
responsibility or immaturity"22 (116-7)
As readers we can almost hear the crescendo in Tayeb's voice, his own desperation in
having been "spoken to," and, in turn, his justifications seem rather judgmental of
Westerners. This passionate discussion on the passage from oral to written narrative is a
necessary one to the Algerian-Italian writer. For Lamri, language is first and foremost the
instrument with which to tell somebody's story, one's own truth. Naturally one must
understand the person who narrates his/her story rather than implying what she/he is
saying. Doing so would be like claiming to know better than the narrator. But the narrator
must find in himself/herself the right words, she or he must find his/her own voice: what
really matters is not the words, but the story one narrates. Lamri is fully aware of the
complexity of writing in another language but he wants to do this and, at the same time,
he wishes to be recognized as an immigrant who writes in Italian. In Tabarroni's
interview he explains this.
"I cannot help but keep myself from becoming Italian but, at the same time, this creates a
problem, because I have to use Italian words to write about my feelings as a foreigner, as
Algerian, French [...] or other."23
Tayeb/Tahar (is this alliteration casual?) is also using his eloquence to tie
together his "multiple identities." He is the lover of an Italian woman/writer. He is the
foreigner who is spoken to. He is an African man coming from Algeria, and from a
culture where oral narration is a delicate art. He is an immigrant who has lived in various
countries and learned about other cultures and languages before settling in Italy. He is an
Italian citizen wanting also to be an Italian writer. And, finally, he is a "migrant writer"
who wishes to express his "primordial identity," the outcome of all his cultural and
human experiences.
It is not easy to conjugate a perfect relationship. The relationship
between Lamri and the chosen culture/language is conflicting, and so is the relationship
between Tayeb and Elena. Elena's relationship with Tayeb seems to reach its highest
moment on Sept 11, 2004, when she writes:
"Today in Portomaggiore, in the middle of the station's boulevard, I played with the noise
of the leaves on the ground, it was my pearl of today's happiness, and as I was living it I
thought: I want to give it to Tayeb. [...] If yesterday I thought that love and writing
opposed each other, today I don't believe it anymore."24 (171).
The "pearl of happiness" is also in having reached the awareness of the "I." Love and
writing do not exclude each other, but merge in that unifying moment. Elena the
intellectual is no longer detached from Elena the lover. Perhaps she wants to prove to
Tayeb that she too can reach the height of love like Rabea El-Aadawea.
Yet Elena, as Tayeb will demonstrate, is tremendously close to the lowest
moment of their relationship. Elena had warned Tayeb by writing:
"but I warn you, there will be storms because this body must find an agreement with this
head, if storms will make you run away, too bad for you..."25 (167)
The storm comes after the day she has found her 'pearl of happiness'. In her message of
Sept. 14 she implores:
"Last night we loved each other tenderly. It is true that my twisted needs interfered
with our feelings, but it is true that I love you."26 (174)
Tayeb responds to Elena after days of "silent treatment." In his next to the last
message he reconstructs the events of that night. According to his reconstruction, Elena
had said "I felt like I was used." Then she had justified herself by saying:
"If you leave me in my bed I could still dream of you, I could still smell your scent,
something I cannot do in your presence because you take all my space."27 (180)
For Tayeb, Elena's "twisted need" translated as the reality of being chased away "in the
heart of the night." (181). Was Elena's justification the Lacanian realization that desire is
alive only in the absence of whom we desire? Such a principle does not blend well with
what love is according to Tayeb. It is in his lengthy message that Tayeb unravels love
definitions that we will see later in the Egyptian poet's list. The disappointed lover
describes his love like a strong thirst that can be satisfied only by being immersed. He
also says that love, like water, must always flow in the presence of each other, thus the
absence of one lover does not make it more ardent. Love is like "Water that gives life."
(179). He is very poetic in expressing his anger, but he also senses failure
"[...] for not having been able to give or having given too much, like rain [...] that sweeps
dry land, excessively thirsty. Thirst generates rejection."28 (179)
Moreover, he finds that in the Western vocabulary, the word 'dignity' has disappeared,
and in substitution the term "pride" is used a word that he finds "ambiguous". Yet, the
collection of love definitions also includes the famous words by Paul in the letter to the
Corinthian's "Unconditional love does not fear offense." (179)
The love story between Tayeb and Elena seems to end in a Western compromise.
She writes:
"I do not say anymore 'let's see each other,' I don't want this to be frustrating, It
diminishes me and it is not right for you as well. Therefore you will let me know when
you want, when you can and I will tell you how I can, how I want."29 (185)
The frame of Sixty Names is an allegory and it also offers a moral teaching that is
summarized in one of the short stories contained in the book. In the story "Le stanze
sgombre"30 (The empty rooms), two characters, Moshé, a Jew living in Israel, and
Mohammed, a Palestinian in the occupied territory, are having a conversation in which
they reveal their reciprocal fear of the other, the similar festive foods each of them enjoys
for their unique celebrations, and so on. The moral is: there is no way to erase
differences. To the question of the one: "Tell me, my friend, will our peoples ever live in
peace, the one next to the other?" The other responds: "We don't have any other
choice."31 (132)
The scholar Graziella Parati writes:
"Lamri's narrative of migration to Italy does not talk about Italy at all. [...] Lamri
proclaims the impossibility of writing an Italian migration experience without reflecting
on a more global and historically charged movement..." 32
As for Elena and Tayeb, they too realize that their relationship is deeply affected by
socio-historical changes. The last message of the story marks a new beginning. Tayeb
pastes the very first message Elena had sent, then writes: "Do you remember? Now I
would like to return to our 60 words of love." (186) It is a new beginning that shows the
"circularity," the rebirth of their love. This is quite true. It does not seem possible at this
point for the 'migrant writer' to solely focus on "ocium" and "solitudo'33 (as the poet
Petrarca did) or to dwell in "stream-of-consciousness" like James Joyce34. Yet Lamri has
the need to confide and describe his "deepest feelings" while pointing out cultural
differences and social injustice. For Lamri writing in Italian is a way to bring equilibrium
to his life and represents a symbolic choice. This choice stems from his refusal to write in
French, as this is the language that many Algerian writers use to comment on the still
acute socio-political conflict between France and Algeria. Also, French is "the language
of an ex colonial power" and writing in it would cause, according to Lamri, "debates" and
even "being accused" (191) by his countrymen. Italian instead is to him a "whispered"
language, the language that he can use to confide and "to write to himself," as well as a
language where European reason "cohabitates" with the Mediterranean "passion."
Thus the conflicted relationship between Elena and Tayeb well reflects the hopes and
difficulties of Lamri and his desire to narrate himself in the Italian language as "the
reflection of an internal expression, always open to dialogue," and as a "continuous
search for the truth." (195)
End notes
Raffaele Taddeo, in his book review on I sessanta nomi dell'amore, suggests as well that Lamri uses the
narrative framework following the notable tradition established by Boccaccio, and in the collection of Arab
tales The Thousand and One Nights.
Parati, Migration Italy, 14.
Ibid., 15.
One of D'Arrigo's works written in Sicilian is Horcynus Orca (1975), defined by Contarino as a
"mythology of evil and of death's obscure persecution."
Lamri considers Italian writers who write in dialect to be also "migrant writers." (Interview with Enrica
Gezim Hajdari and Alberto Masala are mentioned in the dedication posted in I sessanta nomi dell'amore.
vivere nella lingua italiana, convivere con essa e farla convivere con le altre mie lingue materne (il
dialetto algerino, l'arabo e, in un certo senso, il francese).
Ma si può coltivare l'illusione dell'identità primordiale in una lingua già straniera?
ci porta in contrade che la lingua italiana non ha mai visitato prima [...] ci mostra la sua relazione
piacevolmente paradossale con il mondo.
una forte carica emotiva.
Ibn Quyyam (1292-1350).
"Galeotto fu 'l libro e chi lo scrisse/quel giorno più non vi leggemmo avante." Canto V, 137-138.
("Galeotto was the book and he who wrote it. / That day no further did we read therein.")
Da "Hobb" deriva la parola "mahabba". Sia "Hobb" che "Mahabba" significano "Amore", Quest'ultima
indica anche l'amore divino. Rabea El-Aadawea era la più grande poetessa dell'amor divino dell'islam,
questo è un esempio della sua poesia: L'Amore mi investe ed è come il sangue nelle mie vene/Mi cancella
per riempirmi del mio Amato/Il mio Amato penetra in tutte le parti del mio corpo/di me rimane soltanto un
nome/Tutto il resto è Lui.
Tuttavia rimane a Occidente per me. Occidente ossessionato forse dall'io, scisso nel corpo e nell'anima,
ormai non più riconciliabile con se stesso, forse per i troppi desideri che una vita intera non basta a
soddisfare. Non che il tuo testo trasmetta questo. Ma lo vedo su questa scia. E' un punto di vista.
Ieri ho letto e riletto le definizioni di questi nomi dell'amore e mi sembra di scoprire non una lingua ma
la vita stessa.
Perché tu sei molto dolce, ma a volte mi sembra che lotti un po' contro questa dolcezza. Non vuoi
lasciarti invadere totalmente dalla tua dolcezza. E' soltanto un'impressione. Nello stesso tempo hai la forza
del vortice, perché in fondo hai un'acutissima sensibilità e un intuito molto forte, che vuoi assolutamente
controllare, quindi mi sembra che convivano in te a volte dei sentimenti contraddittori [...].
Nell'amore invece, per avere la rivelazione dell'altro, bisogna imparare a perdere l'iniziativa: sono in
ascolto, avverto le vibrazioni, sento cosa mi dici, leggo i tuoi verbi e i tuoi aggettivi, lettura fatta aspetto la
loro lenta incisione in me, per non deformare le tue parole, per sentirle così come sono state pronunciate.
Sono le mani che accarezzano i brividi lungo la schiena, sono gli sguardi ed i loro colori, sono i sentimenti
insieme alti e profondi. Sono i capelli che giocano con le dita per non essere orfane.
Abitare il corpo dell'altro. Io sono felice che tu abiti in me, corpo o mente o anima che sia. Sono felice
che tu occupi tutto lo spazio disponibile.
Abitare è una parola che parla molto di noi, [...]. Habitare, etimologicamente simile ad "avere"
appartiene ad un altro tempo, al tempo dell'amore, [...] soprattutto se sappiamo abitare. Ho imparato da te
che si può abitare una lingua, [...]. Ecco perché mi piace l'assonanza fra "habibati" e " habitat".
[...] i tuoi testi sono narrazioni che si ispirano alla trasmissione orale delle storie e del sapere, cosa
accade al testo in questo passaggio?
[...] l'oralità deve sempre tenere conto dell'interlocutore. [...]. In certe regioni dell'Africa non si deve mai
parlare al mattino prima di avere sciacquato la bocca.
[...] la parola ha perso senso [...] Mi sembra che le parole non servano ormai più a nulla. Che siano
diventate disperatamente inutili, spesso si rompono sull'interlocutore, invece di entrare in lui. Così lo
straniero, per definizione senza luogo, quindi facile al fraintendimento, non parla ma è parlato, dietro le sue
parole si ha sempre la tendenza a leggere ciò che egli vorrebbe dire [...] come se la parola dello straniero
fosse un pleonasma e la sua verità, ossia la verità umana profonda, soltanto una forma di irresponsabilità o
di immaturità.
Interview with Tabarroni. "Non posso fare altro che impedirmi di diventare italiano fino in fondo ma
nello stesso tempo questo mi crea un problema, perché io devo usare le parole italiane per scrivere i miei
sentimenti che, in quanto straniero, magari sono algerini, francesi, italiani, [...].
Oggi a Portomaggiore, in mezzo alle foglie del viale della stazione, ho giocato col rumore delle foglie
per terra, è stata la mia perla di felicità di oggi, e ho pensato, mentre la vivevo: la voglio dare a Tayeb. [...]
Se ieri pensavo ad un'opposizione fra scrittura e amore, oggi non lo penso più.
[...] ma ti avverto ci saranno tempeste perché questo corpo si deve mettere d'accordo con questa testa, se
le tempeste ti faranno fuggire, peggio per te [...].
Questa notte ci siamo amati teneramente, ma ora sento che non ci sei più. E' vero che le mie esigenze
storte si sono messe di traverso ai sentimenti, ma è anche vero che ti amo.
Se mi lasci ancora nel letto ti potrei sognare, potrei annusare ancora il tuo profumo, cosa che non posso
fare in tua presenza, perché occupi tutto lo spazio, [...].
[...] non aver saputo dare o aver dato troppo, come la pioggia [...] che travolge una terra arsa, troppo
assetata. La sete genera rigetto.
Io non ti dico più "vediamoci", non voglio che questa richiesta sia una frustrazione, mi diminuisce e non
è giusto, nemmeno per te. Per cui mi dirai tu quando vorrai, quando potrai e io ti dirò come potrò, come
I sessanta nomi dell'amore, 130-133.
Mohammed: Ma dimmi, amico mio, i nostri popoli potranno un giorno vivere in pace, l'uno accanto
all'altro? Moshé: Non abbiamo altra scelta.
Parati, Migration Italy, 75-6.
Francesco Petrarca (1304-1374). Petrarca in De vita solitaria refletcs on the importance of ocium, time
dedicated to literary studies in solitude.
James Joyce (1882-1942).
Works cited
Contarino, Rosario. "Il Mezzogiorno e la Sicilia." Letteratura italiana. Storia e
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