observing my behavior and that of my fellows have studied our relationship with the consumer. We spend most of our time thinking about what to buy. Almost in a trance obsessive.
Camera (anzi.. Camera), the satellite navigation the plasma tv, not to mention the world of magnetic vestiti.Insuperabile in giving us women the uncontrollable vertigo mixed mania. Our people look at us and see that we are held. But not enough to calm down the exorcist. Just buy, buy buy.
If any appliance is not like most, although it works fine, we try to find him a defect, any excuse, but to change it. The phones get old after two months, the computer already on the way mediaworld - home.
In recent summer holidays, so totally unexpected, I came across an item that made me think a lot.
I anticipate that I spent a couple of weeks in the trulli of my grandmother down in Puglia. An enchanted place where time has stood still. People still speak of the earth, animals. The sun was still that bright light that dazzles. While here in the north seems faded, tarnished. In Grandma's
trullo there are thousands of objects, each of which may give a slap to our strong desire consumerism. From the refrigerator, which has more than forty 'years. Every now and give it a whitewash, I plugged in and he picks up right where he left off. Maybe two, three years before. Pans with Teflon non-stick and not seem to have never heard of.
a real bigwig is the closet of a bedroom, moth-eaten, but is miraculously still standing. Inside an old cupboard drawers and ripiani.Sopra paper covers the top of a bar that hosts crutches.
unpacking, I hang my clothes. I take one of these hangers, wooden. It 'so that the end seems to want to unravel in my hands. I look better and read an inscription. In English. It comes from New Jersey, United States, like my grandmother, who has returned to Italy with the hanger when she was a child. That crutch has more than weeks' antanni . It beats me in everything I do because I threw was old or I did not like anymore.
