It is here, the silence, this blessed vacuum the world have forgotten. The expectation of what is to come...
The first score of "E lucevan le stelle" starts in the voice of Beniamini Gigli, almost without breaking the silence!
Oh! miracle of the sounds blended with stillness in a corporate spirit under the pale light of the stars. Recollection begins:
Even the creaking of the gate of the orchard when Floria arrives is a compound of anticipation.
Love is a misconception, selfless giving is nearer to love than to please or to be pleased. Floria's scent is a heady feeling, her languid rest in Mario's arms, the sweet kisses and the slow caresses, the feverish movements of Mario's hands divesting her of her veils make us think of LOVE, but it is only love.
Exhilarating, intoxicating love, the pleasure of contact, of possessing, of being possessed, to please, to be pleased, but not to give with no reward. Valid?, yes! Needed?, of course! Species require this!
What is left if we accept this irrational notion?, this idea, crazy idea, of giving without waiting a reward! where is Romance?, the bitter-sweet pathos that gives life in that starred night, the last night of Mario's life, to the melancholic feeling of loss and belonging?
So love becomes Love, something in between, neither the whole LOVE, nor the unconscious "sarko", the half animal compulsion that keep us alive. Romanticism is saved, life is worth to be lived!
But time "fugit", time is an uncompromising vector born and lost in Eternity. It does not understand anything except flowing and Mario cannot stop the need of expressing his disappointment in losing life when he loved it most...
© 2017 Montxo.