Friday, 17 February 2012 @07:41
"How far or how close from me are you, Ingeborg? Tell me, so that I know whether you’ll close your eyes, when I kiss you now".
(Paul Celan)
This is why I just close my eyes, each time your name blinks on my phone. Your words: a whisper, a caress, the lightest of kisses.
Thanks to Thamara, who loves letters, postcards, words on paper, words that travel long, before reaching you; thanks to her, here I am, reading Celan’s words from 1949. Words to Ingeborg Bachmann, the woman he wrote to for 19 years. Words of poets. But read how strong, how powerful his words are in German, the language of their correspondence:
"Wie weit oder wie nah bist Du, Ingeborg? Sag es mir, damit ich weiß, ob Du die Augen schließt, wenn ich Dich jetzt küsse".

Yes, I write. Yes, I believe in the magic of words. That’s why you’ll find me here, every Friday, adventurously translating my column – the same that appears every day on City, an Italian free press newspaper – in english. Or maybe “globish”? May Jane Austen and Elizabeth von Arnim, my favourite writers, protect me!
I write about fashion, books, design, but only in Italian and for the Italian press. If you’re brave enough to dabble in a language other than English, I’d rather you’d buy my books (the first one translated into German, the second in Slovenian).
I believe Piazza Unità in Trieste, where I was born, is the most romantic square in the world. (And yes, it’s in Italy, proudly facing the sea: check it on a map). I love roses in every form (even if they come as Valentino bags or Caovilla flats). And, of course, I do love my blog, expecially now that I can carry it around on my iPhone.