Le cascine di Adele
Adele and Olmo are two young lovers who live in different cities. Olmo dreams of a future in the country to offer Adele. Adele believes in it and, with determination, commits herself to realize this project.
While waiting for Olmo to graduate, find a job, and clear his head, Adele slips one experience after another into the hills of half of Italy. Each time she returns to Milan, a piece of innocence and carefree spirit flies away. The world becomes more and more adult and less caressing. Olmo sinks into boredom, distraction and rationality; he suffers Adele’s tenacity, he lets himself be carried far away… But sooner or later he will have to come to terms with himself and take back his own way of being and his own will.
Adele has never lived in the hills before and everything she discovers has the taste of something special, crazy, above expectations.
There are two main threads: Adele’s unstoppable rise towards the realization of her plan to live in the country and the evolution of a love story that started with momentum and developed with mediocrity.
In the details I have tried to describe the natural disillusionment, the almost biological cynicism, which evolve in a girl in the transition to adult life; the idealized and emphasized love first, sized, painful and disappointing later.
In the different experiences Adele goes through, doors open on very different families and people. Some give her important and wonderful memories, others make fun of her naivety dragging her into dangerous and unhealthy psychological mechanisms.
La legna nella stufa
Because in the mountains, if the stove is not lit, you don’t cook, you don’t heat water, you don’t dry the walls… Up here in the family business, everything takes place around the lit stove; eucalyptus leaves are put in the water pot to soothe the throat, potatoes and apples are put in the oven, bread is baked for the next day, bowls and clay pots are cooked in the embers. Around the lit stove people sew, eat, laugh and cry.
In order for the stove to be lit, a man must have worked in the woods, felling, sawing and splitting plants. He must have brought the wood to dry in the barnyard in the summer and sorted it under the porch in the winter. It takes the thoughtfulness of a woman to bring in the wood, keep the fire burning, and allow the doorway to welcome the man in the evening in the warmth of temperature and the fragrance of dinner.
But if the stove remains unlit, something has gone wrong. Someone has shirked their role, and the house becomes an inhospitable, cold, damp, unhealthy place.
The wood for the stove is all of mountain life. It is time, patience, the act of working for a team and not just for oneself. It represents well-being, success, confirmation and affirmation of a family.
Ti tengo con me
On May 16, 2012, my daddy surrendered. With his frank hand in mine, between IVs, tubes, monitors and alarms, I had time to think. I went back to my childhood games, to the awkwardness of adolescence, the disappointments that made me grow old… and in between all of this he was there behind me, supporting me if I stumbled, advising me if I doubted, conversing with me in half-voice, about what to cook, which orthotics gave the most relief to my feet, which stove warmed the most…
It is a letter, the last one, in which I give him the adventure of my life and thank him for all the good he has given me.
My name is Rossana Sciascia and I was born in Milan on 26/06/1974. When I was sixteen I decided to continue my studies with evening classes and to work in an office. When I reached the age of majority I tried a career between dance, fashion and television. Unsatisfied with the environment that I find, I work for some time as an accountant, but at 20 years I begin to travel the Italian countryside. When I was 23 years old, I bought a piece of land in Liguria, in Val di Vara (SP) and there my pilgrimage stopped. I open a farm in 1998 and I learn to cultivate the land, to take care of the animals, to weave baskets, to spin wool, to refine the clay of my mountain and to shape it. I take care of my family and in 2007 I opened a farmhouse where I personally take care of the management of the guests and the cleaning of the structure.
The little time that I take away from my many pleasant commitments, I devote to writing. Of all the things I have learned to do, writing is the only thing I do not do out of duty but out of necessity. I will always write, all my life, because it helps me to understand myself, to remember, to appreciate. In painful moments, writing has been as caressing as medicine, it has eased suffering and kept me company like a confidant who does not judge me and always listens to me.
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