Lightness, you that eternally rest
I don’t believe she is dead.
She almost seems to be rising again.
As Orpheus, she’s been to the netherworld.
Yet, as she turned around, her wings stuck to each other.
And that glue, that thin – almost invisible! – layer, makes her moving difficult now.
It pinions it. It causes her to stick to a corner, to a door, to a specific spot, to a plant,
even to a light.
Her wings, once so light as to levitate freely above any environment, are now
permeable, absorbent, overwhelmed by situations, places, and climates.
Just look at her as she twirls here and there, clumsy and drunk.
Lopsided paths traced by dots suspended in vagueness.
A new oddity no longer allows her to be movement and information.
She flies a bit here, a bit there. Often she gets lost. Sometimes she stops.
Everywhere she nearly camouflages.
In her frenzy of being what she was once known for, she collects lists of places,
postcard photographs with no connection to each other.
What remains of movement is hysteric speed. What remains of information are lists of
names. What remains of lightness is that thin – almost invisible! – layer.
Yet, if one looks at her, she still appears to be the same. Beautiful and colourful,
frivolous and vacuous : a butterfly.
Merini, A. (1998) Leggerezza in Eternamente Vivo. Corbetta: L’incisione.
Calvino, I. (2005) Le Citta’ Invisibili. Milan: I Meridiani Mondadori.
Calvino, I. (1988) Six Memos for the Next Millenium. USA: Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data.