by Renato Pestriniero
A sound pushed through muggy air. Alberto climbed out of a deep well, rested his elbows on the rim, and leaned out on a new morning.
With the sirens second wail he woke up completely. The siren meant this morning would be different. It happened maybe once a year, and it was a pain. But it was also a change, a new element in the composition. Continue Reading »
by Lino Aldani
It all happened last year in Cascina Torti toward the end of summer. Cascina Torti is the only spot not shown at all on local maps. Maybe land-office records mention it or military maps, which are meticulous and detailed to the point of being ridiculous, those voluminous sheets folded thirty-two times that also indicate the names of ditches, elevations, wells, and small crumbling hill forts. Cascina Torti has sixty-five inhabitants, a handful of houses at the foot of a barren hill, similar to Calvary, one of the many located almost on a ridge between the Pavian and Ligurian Appennines. Continue Reading »