Stefano schiacciò il pulsante di accensione e regolò al massimo la stufa elettrica.
Era stato molto felice quando aveva scoperto quale sede il comune gli avesse assegnato per il suo corso di scrittura creativa. Quella piccola chiesetta sconsacrata, posta proprio al limitare del paese, era sicuramente un luogo suggestivo dove tenere un corso di tal genere. L’unico difetto era che in quella stagione all’interno dell’edificio la temperatura era gelida.
Sistemata la stufa si sollevò guardandosi intorno. La chiesa era piccola, poco illuminata e praticamente vuota. I suoi muri erano intonacati di bianco, except for a fragment of a fresco in the apse remained, although the small rose window, located above the dark wooden door, lets in soft glow from the outside world.
Stephen looked at his watch would arrive soon and her students still had to put in order their texts collected in the folder.
Students officially enrolled in the course were fourteen, but the lectures were open to everyone so happened that there were other occasional listeners. In particular there was a man who had followed all the lessons. Usually sat in the back row, came to class already started and left several minutes prior to their conclusion. He always had a hat well pulled down on his head and kept his hands constantly in the pocket of a raincoat that never took off. Even among students
official in reality there were some characters who had caught his attention: the kind of course in fact almost always attracted a very diverse fauna human. There was such
Mark, a college student twenty-five years, holed a few tests from the engineering degree, he decided to follow more closely his creativity. The slender body, the mild-mannered and he suggested a bohemian dress uncertain sexual orientation, while deeply carved eye sockets or imply the sleepless nights.
Then there was Henry, who for years had almost forty-five but to see her she looked ten less. Incredible to think that twenty-eight and had a son who had raised all by myself. Enrica liked. He had an open smile and a practical attitude. When asked during the first lesson to everyone: "Why are you here?" And "What do you expect from this course?" The students gave their answers varied, but all, as almost always happened, due to three standard behaviors. There were those who had taken advantage of this occasion to speak of him often for minutes without giving any answer, who had stuttered and appeared to be uncertain phrases mutilated him first cast doubt on the motivations that had led him there and then those who had repeated the gist of Answers others had given a few moments before. Enrica instead said simply: "Because I love writing and I hope to learn how to do better."
Another character that was once fond of was Bill, the master.
was what once was called "a true gentleman: polite, gallant with the ladies, always dressed with jacket, hat and bow tie. She taught in elementary school to an old age and now it must have been that close to seventy to eighty. Stefano sincerely envied his curious spirit and his mind is always ready. "I wonder if I ever get there at his age ... I am certainly not in such good shape" considerava fra sé.
Guglielmo aveva una grandissima passione per la letteratura e scriveva poesie da moltissimi anni. Una volta gliene aveva fatta leggere una, alla fine della lezione, quando ormai tutti erano usciti. Stefano era rimasto piacevolmente colpito dallo stile delicato ed evocativo. Gli aveva chiesto se avesse mai pensato di proporle a qualche editore e aveva sorriso della sua timidezza quando il maestro gli aveva risposto “No, no… io le scrivo solo per me”.
Infine c’era Serena, una sedicenne grassottella con un faccino da cartone animato e una frangetta sbarazzina.
Alla sua coloratissima borsa di Hello Kitty aveva attaccato mille oggetti diversi: pupazzetti, portachiavi, campanellini e chissà cos’altro jumble and gaiety to his every movement caused a jingle that always heralded the arrival a few moments before his appearance.
always came wrapped up in his duvet discovery that left a little 'back, with a long colored wool scarf around her neck several times and turned a funny pair of plush pink earmuffs.
remembered a bit 'candy, or Kitty wore drawn on the bag and gloves.
Stephen smiled thinking about how during his presentation he candidly admitted his hope that this course could help improve the ratings of Italian in high school.
The professor gave a final glance at the text and place the other, the last was left in his hands and his mood darkened.
As usual he had spent much of the sixth class to talk about writing in first person and the importance of experiences in the autobiographical books of fiction, after which he asked his students to write a text like that. The songs were anonymous, and even he knew who had been written. To further protect the anonymity was even left the church at the time of delivery. Neither knew who among the students had not delivered: the texts were in fact only twelve. The idea was that this system would allow him to read and discuss more freely in front of the class had also explicitly specified that all the texts were read and discussed.
Yet, for the first time in his life, he wondered if in the case of that particular text, it was not inappropriate.
He read the first lines, and as each of the now numerous times that he had addressed those words, he was attacked by a strong sense of discomfort.
could not help but to wonder if that really was written in a kind of joke, even by an ego in need of particular attention.
But the question that troubled him now was: Who had written it?
Stephen heard the church door creak.
The first of his students was coming.
Era stato molto felice quando aveva scoperto quale sede il comune gli avesse assegnato per il suo corso di scrittura creativa. Quella piccola chiesetta sconsacrata, posta proprio al limitare del paese, era sicuramente un luogo suggestivo dove tenere un corso di tal genere. L’unico difetto era che in quella stagione all’interno dell’edificio la temperatura era gelida.
Sistemata la stufa si sollevò guardandosi intorno. La chiesa era piccola, poco illuminata e praticamente vuota. I suoi muri erano intonacati di bianco, except for a fragment of a fresco in the apse remained, although the small rose window, located above the dark wooden door, lets in soft glow from the outside world.
Stephen looked at his watch would arrive soon and her students still had to put in order their texts collected in the folder.
Students officially enrolled in the course were fourteen, but the lectures were open to everyone so happened that there were other occasional listeners. In particular there was a man who had followed all the lessons. Usually sat in the back row, came to class already started and left several minutes prior to their conclusion. He always had a hat well pulled down on his head and kept his hands constantly in the pocket of a raincoat that never took off. Even among students
official in reality there were some characters who had caught his attention: the kind of course in fact almost always attracted a very diverse fauna human. There was such
Mark, a college student twenty-five years, holed a few tests from the engineering degree, he decided to follow more closely his creativity. The slender body, the mild-mannered and he suggested a bohemian dress uncertain sexual orientation, while deeply carved eye sockets or imply the sleepless nights.
Then there was Henry, who for years had almost forty-five but to see her she looked ten less. Incredible to think that twenty-eight and had a son who had raised all by myself. Enrica liked. He had an open smile and a practical attitude. When asked during the first lesson to everyone: "Why are you here?" And "What do you expect from this course?" The students gave their answers varied, but all, as almost always happened, due to three standard behaviors. There were those who had taken advantage of this occasion to speak of him often for minutes without giving any answer, who had stuttered and appeared to be uncertain phrases mutilated him first cast doubt on the motivations that had led him there and then those who had repeated the gist of Answers others had given a few moments before. Enrica instead said simply: "Because I love writing and I hope to learn how to do better."
Another character that was once fond of was Bill, the master.
was what once was called "a true gentleman: polite, gallant with the ladies, always dressed with jacket, hat and bow tie. She taught in elementary school to an old age and now it must have been that close to seventy to eighty. Stefano sincerely envied his curious spirit and his mind is always ready. "I wonder if I ever get there at his age ... I am certainly not in such good shape" considerava fra sé.
Guglielmo aveva una grandissima passione per la letteratura e scriveva poesie da moltissimi anni. Una volta gliene aveva fatta leggere una, alla fine della lezione, quando ormai tutti erano usciti. Stefano era rimasto piacevolmente colpito dallo stile delicato ed evocativo. Gli aveva chiesto se avesse mai pensato di proporle a qualche editore e aveva sorriso della sua timidezza quando il maestro gli aveva risposto “No, no… io le scrivo solo per me”.
Infine c’era Serena, una sedicenne grassottella con un faccino da cartone animato e una frangetta sbarazzina.
Alla sua coloratissima borsa di Hello Kitty aveva attaccato mille oggetti diversi: pupazzetti, portachiavi, campanellini e chissà cos’altro jumble and gaiety to his every movement caused a jingle that always heralded the arrival a few moments before his appearance.
always came wrapped up in his duvet discovery that left a little 'back, with a long colored wool scarf around her neck several times and turned a funny pair of plush pink earmuffs.
remembered a bit 'candy, or Kitty wore drawn on the bag and gloves.
Stephen smiled thinking about how during his presentation he candidly admitted his hope that this course could help improve the ratings of Italian in high school.
The professor gave a final glance at the text and place the other, the last was left in his hands and his mood darkened.
As usual he had spent much of the sixth class to talk about writing in first person and the importance of experiences in the autobiographical books of fiction, after which he asked his students to write a text like that. The songs were anonymous, and even he knew who had been written. To further protect the anonymity was even left the church at the time of delivery. Neither knew who among the students had not delivered: the texts were in fact only twelve. The idea was that this system would allow him to read and discuss more freely in front of the class had also explicitly specified that all the texts were read and discussed.
Yet, for the first time in his life, he wondered if in the case of that particular text, it was not inappropriate.
He read the first lines, and as each of the now numerous times that he had addressed those words, he was attacked by a strong sense of discomfort.
could not help but to wonder if that really was written in a kind of joke, even by an ego in need of particular attention.
But the question that troubled him now was: Who had written it?
Stephen heard the church door creak.
The first of his students was coming.
(Authors: Sara and Massimiliano Bosi Prandini)
Well now the ball is in you. Sara and I we just put some food on the plate and in person (but I think I can speak to Sara) I have no idea where the story will take us. Do you like the characters we have described? You can use it but also to invent others. Find interesting the cue mysterious man in a raincoat? Fine, but if the story you have in mind is not involved, nothing prevents us during the final editing of the e-book header. You have an idea what it might contain text that restless Stefano? It could be the story of violence, a letter from a suicidal or who knows, maybe for some mysterious reason could narrate an episode of his life of Stephen. Or of course anything else that comes to mind. And who wrote it? The story is specifically structured to leave room for the possibility that it is also one of the students. And finally: Who's coming? It 's really one of the students? Or maybe someone who has nothing to do?
All these things you must tell us. Who wants to contribute to this history has to send a Chapter 24 within hours of January 31 to this e-mail: bookmodena.narrativa @ gmail.com. Of course you can use the same address to ask any additional information or clarification about the project.
Good job!
All these things you must tell us. Who wants to contribute to this history has to send a Chapter 24 within hours of January 31 to this e-mail: bookmodena.narrativa @ gmail.com. Of course you can use the same address to ask any additional information or clarification about the project.
Good job!
