Monday, December 20, 2010

Pasqualino (English)


In Taormina today, there is still a very old man who remembers about you, my Pasqualino. He knew quite well Wilhelm von Gloeden in the last years of his life, he was acquainted too to Pancrazio Bucini, his long time friend and assistant.

This old man recognized you, he identified you, because you were one of von Gloeden's favorite models, and from one photograph to another one, the viewer can follow the steps of your youth, the blossoming of your beauty, from our teen years to your manhood...

Pasquale Stracuzzi. It is your name, Pasquale Stracuzzi... May I call you Pasqualino ? 


According to this old man, you are buried in the cemetery of Taormina... You are resting in peace, among your loved ones, perhaps your wife, your parents...

I will put flowers on your grave, Pasqualino... I will put flowers on your grave, flowers of Taormina's almond trees, at spring, while sun light is so sweet, while snow on Mont Etna's slopes is fading away, like memories, like sorrows... 

I will gently talk to you, as one talks to a long time friend, to someone I always loved, but I never met. I will tell you about me, Pasqualino, I will tell you about my love of vintage photography, I will tell you about your, I know you so well, although we never met... 


I learnt to read your gaze, Pasqualino mio, I can read in your eyes your hard life in Taormina, at the threshold of the XXth century. I can read what made you happy, your hopes, your fears, your fatigue, your dreams too, when you are looking straight into the eyes of the future. 

I could almost hear your voice, your singing accent and your laughs, the melody of your Sicilian accent... 

Pasqualino mio, ancient heroes loved by gods, according to the legend, were dying young, in their blossoming youth...

Von Gloeden's photographic art made you immortal in your blossoming youth, you are young forever...

Soon, quite soon, I will put flowers on your grave, Pasqualino... I will put flowers on your grave, flowers of Taormina's almond trees, at spring, while sun light is so sweet, while snow on Mont Etna's slopes is fading away, like memories, like sorrows... 

Dors en paix, mon ami, mon Pasqualino de Taormina, mon bel éphèbe grec qui me fait tant rêver.

Rest in peace, Pasqualino Stracuzzi, I will visit you next spring, when all the Taormina's almond trees will sing your eternal youth... 

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Thanks for your beautifull words to Pasqualino. I hope he can hear them, Philip