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It all started when my mom passed away.

 

I was on a break from my work in theatres and not going through a very serene period.

 

One day my son Nazareno said that he had spare sketchbook that his art teacher told him was no longer needed for school projects, so he asked if I wanted to use it.

 

I thought I could have used it to sketch scenographies for work so I simply tucked it in a cupboard. After some time I opened the same cupboard again and saw that very sketchbook next to my precious Caran d'Ache pencils and … that's when I thought of drawing something. Yes but, what to draw then? 

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Crepuscolo sulle Rose

Aggiornato il: gen 27


Red Roses are a symbol of love, fervent and passionate love.

I remember this well, it was late November when I discovered that one of my Crimson Roses had blossomed. I could not believe it. And I didn't want to admit that this was due more to climate change than to a gift for me from one of my beloved plants.

I stopped to think for a while about whether to pick it up and put it in a vase, safe from the frost or, before letting nature run its course, to admire it just enough to forever keep it in my heart.

I didn't have the courage to separate it from the other branches already full of buds ready to explode. After all she, the rose, had blossomed to enjoy the warm and faded Sunlight, to shine in the glory of the winter light... what right did I have to deprive her of all this?

The frost did not come and I could admire her for a long time. She was a peachy flower, she had so strongly stood the tests of Winter.

I would always go out almost exclusively to admire the rose.

Magnificent ruler of a decadent kingdom, as nature ran its course, she began to wither. And I began to miss her.

And at that point I decided what my next drawing was going to be: red roses!

By that point I still had her in my eyes and my heart. To overcome the nostalgia I felt for her, all that was left to do was to put my art at the service of her beauty.



Rose Rosse simbolo di amore, ardente e passionale.

Lo ricordo bene, era fine novembre quando scoprii che una delle mie Crimson Rose era sbocciata. Non potevo crederci. E non volevo ammettere che questo fosse dovuto più al cambiamento climatico che non ad un regalo per me, da parte di una delle mie piante adorate.

Rimasi per un po' a pensare se coglierla e portarla in casa, al riparo dal gelo oppure, prima di lasciarla al suo destino, ammirarla quanto basta per conservarla per sempre nel mio cuore.

Non ebbi il coraggio di separarla dagli altri rami già pieni di boccioli pronti ad esplodere. In fondo lei, la rosa, era sbocciata per godere di quei tiepidi e sbiaditi raggi di Sole, per splendere nella gloria della luce invernale... che diritto avevo io di privarla di tutto questo?

Il gelo non venne e lei si fece ammirare ancora per molto tempo. Fiore carnoso, sfacciato quasi contro le insidie dell'inverno.

Andavo fuori quasi di proposito per ammirarla.

Lei magnifica sovrana di un regno decadente, come è naturale ad un certo punto cominciò a sfiorire. E a me cominciò a mancare.

Fu così che decisi quale dovesse essere il mio prossimo disegno: rose rosse!

Ormai ne avevo gli occhi ed il cuore pieni e per vincere la nostalgia per lei, non avevo che da mettere al servizio della sua bellezza la mia umile arte.

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