THEthe multifaceted genius of Massimo Gramellini he found in the obituaries of Corriere della Sera an extraordinary story: on January 15, 1986 a teenager, Enrico, died in a car accident; since then every year his girlfriend at the time, Barbara, dedicates a poignant obituary to him, each time with different words, which however always ends with the same signature: “Forever, Barbara”.
We don’t know and don’t want to know if that “forever” is an ideal or corresponds to reality, if Barbara has found another man to build her life with or whether she lived in the memory of that ancient love. Above all, we don’t know and don’t want to judge.
I thought about the many women I have known who were widowed at a young agewho never wanted to get married again, because they were still in love with a man who was no longer there for others, but was there for them.
Aldo Cazzullo (photo by Carlo Furgeri Gilbert).
I also thought about the many women, and the many men, who struggle to relate to other peopleto court, to touch, to abandon oneself to the “vibrant understanding of all the senses in celebration” (Franco Battiato) or even just to let oneself be tempted by curiosity.
“Virgin” people, uninterested in sex perhaps because they have never accepted their bodiesthey have never entered that sphere of physicality which is also part of our nature.
We don’t know if Barbara gave up her life, or if she consecrated it to a memory, and thus made it infinite: a life to be imagined, as Pierpaolo Pasolini defined the broken existence of her brother Guido.
We know that love stories almost never end well; at best, they adapt, change, evolve. Enrico and Barbara’s story is a pre-social media story. I fear that the digital revolution has perhaps facilitated and trivialized approaches, but has made it even more difficult to build lovestories, couples, lives.
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All articles by Aldo Cazzullo.
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