F A B M A G A Z IN E / M A Y -J U N E 2 0 0 4 - fabrica
F A B M A G A Z IN E / M A Y -J U N E 2 0 0 4 - fabrica
F A B M A G A Z IN E / M A Y -J U N E 2 0 0 4 - fabrica
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Wrinkles<br />
Grinze<br />
A flaccid body is never<br />
attractive. I had a nanny, when I<br />
was little, she must have been<br />
seventy, but she seemed very old<br />
to me. Occasionally we would take<br />
a nap on the big bed, both of us<br />
together.<br />
While sleeping, if I happened to<br />
brush against her legs or her<br />
lap, I would jerk awake and pull<br />
back horrified. And yet I like<br />
wrinkles, those from expression I<br />
mean, belonging to people who<br />
carry their years with pride,<br />
displayed on their foreheads or<br />
around their lips.<br />
But a wrinkly body, soft, flabby<br />
is something that I can’t stand.<br />
It literally horrifies me.<br />
I would do anything to avoid it,<br />
even die young. Those sagging<br />
thighs and thin skin, those<br />
bodies that are no longer toned<br />
remind me of the inevitability of<br />
death. Death doesn’t scare me as<br />
much as the idea of ending up<br />
with a sea of wrinkles on my<br />
body. My nanny died when she was<br />
over ninety, happy and wrinkled.<br />
Maybe she was right.<br />
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>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><br />
Un corpo flaccido non è mai<br />
attraente. Avevo una tata,<br />
quando ero piccolo, sarà stata<br />
sui settanta, ma a me pareva<br />
vecchissima. Ogni tanto capitava<br />
che andassimo a fare il pisolino<br />
nel lettone, lei ed io insieme.<br />
Se nel sonno mi capitava di<br />
sfiorare le sue gambe, o il suo<br />
grembo, mi svegliavo di<br />
soprassalto e mi ritraevo<br />
orripilato. Eppure le rughe mi<br />
piacciono, quelle d’espressione<br />
intendo, di chi si porta gli<br />
anni con orgoglio esibiti sulla<br />
fronte o sul contorno delle<br />
labbra. Ma il corpo grinzoso,<br />
molle, sfatto è qualcosa che non<br />
sopporto. Mi fa letteralmente<br />
orrore. Farei qualsiasi cosa per<br />
evitarlo, anche morire giovane.<br />
Quelle cosce cadenti, quella<br />
pelle sottile, quei corpi non più<br />
sodi mi ricordano inevitabilmente<br />
la morte. La morte non mi<br />
spaventa quanto la prospettiva di<br />
finire con un mare di rughe sul<br />
corpo. La mia tata è morta a più<br />
di novanta anni, felice e rugosa.<br />
Forse aveva ragione lei.<br />
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>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><br />
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