2020 - 2021
Turin, Piedmont, Italy
"Pier Damiani! Who was he?" we could say, paraphrasing Manzoni, while the eyes are fixed on the calendar on February 21st.
Desolate for the Saint of the day, but it is easier than in Italy that date will be remembered for being the last in class of the 2019-20 school year.
From the one after, in fact, the doors of all the schools in the country no longer opened like books, the bells didn’t find ears to listen to their cry of alarm and, in the classrooms and in the corridors, the silence put to chase the void.
Those places of hugs and pushes, of words whispered in the ears or thrown into the air together with a ball, of questions and answers, have become orphans of life. So suddenly.
February 21, 2020 was Friday. From the day after, for the Italian School, there were only Sundays and, now that it’s officially finished, we find ourselves imagining it in the autumn, with the leaves that turn yellow, the umbrellas that open and the children who return pupils. At least so we hope ...