25 April, quarantine, I resist

Questo è il fiore del Partigiano morto per la libertà.
This is the flower of the Partisan who died for freedom.

For all of us.

The song says that partisan wants to be buried up there on the mountains so that his death makes sense. So the people who pass will remember what the partisan died for.

Let's not forget to celebrate the memory of this day. That April 25th is an important date for Italians. That April 25th is the opposition to a regime. That April 25th is the Italian liberation. Simple words, perhaps not suitable for a blog. But as heavy as rocks.

For everyone, even if political propaganda is being done today for anything, this is a very important day. Democracy, the one that gives you the chance to express your opinion, even you do not sing Bella Ciao, and which I respect, is born with the blood of our ancestors. You who vote, you who organize yourself into associations, you do it thanks to those who fought before you, to have these rights.

Freedom is not a gift, it is an achievement (Asa Philip Randolph).

Today, people who are almost 100 years old remind us that, thanks to them all, we have democracy. Young people of 20 are committed to saving forests far more than my generation has ever done. Resistance, this beautiful word, which, to put it with Maria Lisa Cinciari Rodano, reminds us that, if you want, you can change the world. So, let Resistance be a symbol of rebirth, today.

If you want, you can change the world.

But wanting it is not enough. And we have less and less time to act and react. If united, we can still do it.

Comments

Vendaval

Spensieratezza, come traduci questo in francese? S-P-E-N-T-E-Z-A no, no! Spensieratezza, le dico gesticolando come avessi delle nacchere tra le mani. Quando riesci a sorridere delle piccole cose, quando ti rendi conto della stupidità dei problemi a lavoro, assolutalente risolvibili, quando guardi fuori e, anche se ha piovuto tutto il fine settimana, è appena uscito un raggio di sole che ha colorato le facciate dei palazzi di un giallo pallido. Lègéreté, ecco. L'odore dei caminetti, non lo sentivo da un anno. Non è triste che sia finita l'estate; si apre una stagione da cioccolata calda e castagne, da film sul divano e cenette 'social distanced' tra pochi. Gruppi di nani treenni accompagnati da pazientissime maestre coperte da mascherine e giubbotti fluorescenti vagano per le vie del centro. Sono ricominciate le visite delle scuole ai musei dopo un inverno pandemico durato anche un'estate. E che purtroppo non è ancora finito, ma al quale si sovrappone la natura. ...

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Vendaval

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