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We are the generation that migrates out of curiosity, because we feel like doing so, or because we are looking for adventures. We are maybe the m… Read More
We are the generation that migrates out of curiosity, because we feel like doing so, or because we are looking for adventures. We are maybe the most cowardly generation, and the most beloved one. We are defined by separateness and nostalgia. It’s not our punishment, it’s our choice. Our voyage consists in accepting the chaos, accepting and not controlling it all; accepting what is, at the moment, an almost invisible loss… Read Less
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Domenica
 
 
When I was little, I often went barefoot into my father’s study in order to open the drawer where he kept all the pictures of our family. I spend a lot of time browsing through these photo albums, which had been cataloged by date and color. When he came home after work, he would sometimes notice that I had been there and not left things as they had been before…that something had changed. And that annoyed him.


While walking through the streets of Madrid, I sometimes see people who I think I’ve known years ago when I still lived in my home town, in Sicily; I see street corners that remind me of the street corners where I used to hide when I was little; the ghost of smells long gone, that suddenly appear, surprising you, just to disappear in the next instant, leaving you just enough time to recognize and then forget them again.


I never see the sea, nor do I see its ghost.


Ten years from now, I’ll open this drawer and realize that from 2010 onward I’ll be in my family album no longer. It’s them, with their birthday cakes, their Christmases, their excursions, and I won’t be there anymore.
I am the face that appears on Skype.


We are the generation that migrates out of curiosity, because we feel like doing so, or because we are looking for adventures. We are maybe the most cowardly generation, and the most beloved one. We are defined by separateness and nostalgia. It’s not our punishment, it’s our choice.
Our voyage consists in accepting the chaos, accepting and not controlling it all; accepting what is, at the moment, an almost invisible loss…



StefaniaFiguccia 22.02.2012

 
 
Domenica
 

Cuando era pequeña, entraba sin zapatos en el estudio de mi padre para abrir el cajón donde tenía todas las fotos de nuestra familia. Pasaba mucho tiempo ojeando esos albumes catalogados por fecha y por color. Cuando el volvía del trabajo a veces se enteraba de que había estado por ahí y que no había dejado todo en el mismo orden...que algo había cambiado. Y esto le molestaba.


Paseando por las calles de Madrid a veces me encuentro con gente que creo haber conocido hace años en mi ciudad, en Sicilia; veo esquinas que me recuerdan las esquinas donde me escondía de pequeña, los fantasmas de los olores que llegan y te sorprenden a las espaldas y que un segundo despues desaparecen, dejandote solo el tiempo para reconocerlos y enseguida olvidarlos.


Nunca veo mar, ni su fantasma.


En diez años abriré ese cajón y me daré cuenta de que a partir del 2010 yo ya no estoy en mi album de familia. Son ellos, con sus tartas de cumpleaños, sus navidades, sus excursiones y yo ya no estoy. 
 
Yo soy la cara que aparece en la pantalla de Skype.


Somos la generación que migra por curiosidad, por ganas de huir o en busqueda de aventuras, quizas la mas cobarde y la mas querida. La separación y la nostalgia son nuestra condición, no por castigo, si no por elección. Nuestro viaje es aceptar el caos, aceptar no controlarlo todo, aceptar lo que de momento es una perdida casi invisible...


Stefania Figuccia  22.02.2012