So beautiful!
The very first time, during my explorations in this labyrinth of courtyards and casemates, I had pushed open the door out of mere curiosity, I had been gradually invaded by a feeling I could define only by saying that it was of the kind which disorient (as it is said a compass needle wavers in crossing certain hopelessly ordinary steppes of central Russia) that invisible magnet which keeps us true to life's comfortable directions- which points us, without any kind of justification, to an alluring place, a place where we must, without further argument, proceed and remain. What first struck me in this long, low, valuted chamber, surrounded by the decrepitude of the crumbling fortress, was a singular aspect of cleanliness and order- a meticulous and even fanatical order- an arrogant refusal to submit to decay, a semblance, at once festive and ruinous, of standing alone at attention, a surprising aspect which the room offered to a first glance, amid all this desolation, of remaining stubbornly ready to serve.
page 22
"...The world, Aldo, expects certain beings and certain moments to restore its youth to it; something uncertain rattles the door which needs no more than permission to open, a permission in which the whole soul is steeped. Could I have thought for a second of the security of an old and rotting city? That city lies stiff in its grave and ripe on its inert stones- and what can still delight an inert stone except to become, once more, the bed of a raging torrent?"
page 281
The voice of the fatherland!... It never speaks so loud as when it's a matter of destroying yourself for no good reason- and it's not hard to suggest the kind of language it uses: making the dead speak with discernment and relevance is the ruler's art, and it's Orsenna's favorite sin to listen to it...
page 287
Last updated: 20 May 2016