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  • Almost as if persistence of vision could last a few decades, I keep seeing an old man, his head between his callous hands, his elbows on an ancient marble table, his eyes closed. And I hear myself saying “ Grandpa, what’s the matter? Is there something wrong ?...."

    And he wouldn’t answer, his eyes would remain closed and his head would just move slightly, as in disbelief. A clock he had bought in his youth was still noisily dissecting the seconds, in the silence of a house where he had been living for the past sixty years.

    Dissolve to today.

    I walk down the street, I am slightly depressed, thinking how much my “disconnect” with the so-called “reality” restlessly grows on me every day.

    I am not old yet, but my understanding, my resistance and my patience have been declining very significantly lately.

    My mind processing capabilities are probably already obsolete.
    I enjoy, like and desire less and less of what I see and what I hear around me.

    At the same time I find myself incapable of strategizing alternative lifestyles, alternative choices, more benign geographies, escape routes, like I used to be able to do until a few years ago.

    And I am pretty sure that my problem is not (only) just due to dysfunctional brain dopamine and depression-prone genes, but it is indeed due to the march of time.

    An old person can easily find he or she is as a true stranger in the present tense.

    Perhaps that’s why old people tend to re-live their past experiences so much.

    The present often becomes a painful and constant reiteration of your incapability to adapt, to comprehend, to accept, to enjoy.

    And the present is also increasingly stating your un-usefulness, your lack of elasticity, the increasing burden to society you are becoming.




    Audio: Excerpt from the soundtrack of Maremmanita', a super8 documentary about my grandparents I produced when I was 17 years old. ©Giovanni Savino/ Magnetic Art Productions
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