C’è freddo e nebbia a dipingere questa giornata. Non troppi colori intorno e gli umori sono lividi, le lacrime ormai versate sono un contorno landscape to a wet and disillusioned, sad and melancholic. I quietly opened the wardrobe and I chose a nice white shirt. It 'an important day. The vote took place and I can afford a whim I also petty bourgeois. I decide to add a tie, the one with the yellow butterflies, now faded memories of the first communion of my daughter, now a graduate looking for work.
I'm ready. I decided to take a long walk in Turin this sleepy and deaf to the sounds of his workers. Once inside these buildings dorm felt words and smells and colors of the south. It was my generation. Now our neighborhoods all speak the same language but have become much more sad. And the more severe.
Il fiume mi osserva e non produce quel solito rumore d’acqua che scorre. Anche lui in attesa, come tutti, con un leggerissimo fastidio, a dire il vero. Se non ci fossimo, se avessimo continuato ad essere invisibili, trasparenti, la vita sarebbe continuata in maniera ordinata, come i lunghi viali e contro viali di questa città che non ha nessun cuore pulsante.
Gli operai. Giungendo a Porta Palazzo ho annusato l’aria. Una volta, l’alba si svegliava con i rumori dei motori che si recavano al Lingotto, a Mirafiori, che muovevano anime forti e desiderose di costruire un futuro per i propri figli. Oggi solo il silenzio ci avvolge. Quello, soprattutto, di essere assolutamente contrari a questa storia ed essere obliged to make a different choice. The heart and reason. And the future that has no horizons. I do not see at least at this time.
workers. Those with blue collar, dirty, heavy oil, deep, who, with their hands and place the cushions, the rods, tanks, breathing that dream is the absolute speed. Those who break smiling, despite everything that had greasy sandwiches, black hands and beautiful souls, clear. Those who wanted to tighten the bolts, which had the force of a desire lively, irrepressible. They had wives and children to embrace when they return in the evening, tired. Those who now find them only in the rhetoric of the stories. Those who now no longer speak The owners, but living with directors who have stock options, within the globalization and flexibility. Those who have a blank sheet of paper, a pencil, a question and two answers: yes or no. And neither of these choices is the right one. Because we do not win, I said. We do not win because we are not together, because we were divided, connecting rods on one side and the other shocks. And so the engine can not run. Maybe you could choose the "let's talk," we try to be able to hear the reasons of all, let us strive to think that there is always a solution and that solution can not be just a simple yes or a peremptory. There are maybe, maybe, probably, proviamo, vediamo, non accontentiamoci, non abbandoniamoci al pensiero unico. Queste parole mediane non si trovano in nessuna risposta secca che ci chiedono con questo strano referendum. Qualsiasi risultato frantumerà il futuro e la voglia di continuare. Siamo destinati a non proseguire insieme e nessuno penserà, tra qualche settimana, agli operai. Al loro odore forte di olio, di bielle e di molle e di vernice per la carrozzeria. Nessuno accarezza le auto come facevo io. Nessuno sa ascoltare il loro vecchio polmone che respira. Nessuno sa più attendere perché nessuno ha mai capito che per regalare la velocità occorre molta lentezza: nelle scelte, nelle previsioni, nel disegno, nel saper accarezzare le idee, nel saper scommettere sulla sicurezza and the future. Speed \u200b\u200bis a dream that includes a long hug and that is not ours anymore.
I looked at the river, I touched my tie outdated. I am looking inward. It 's late, I thought. And I'm cold. There are more sounds of the engines. Do not feel them. Can not feel them anymore. I reached the arcade. And I sat on the bench where appearance. I have no more haste. There's no hurry
------------------------------------------ -------
These could be thoughts of Pauline Scaccia, 58, of Torrice (Frosinone), who died Dec. 7, 2007 at work in the yard Fiat Piedimonte San Germano, near the entrance number four . To him and all the workers, is dedicated this small contribution.
0 comments:
Post a Comment