TRUDE
Se
toccando terra a Trude non avessi letto il nome della città scritto a grandi
lettere, avrei creduto d’essere arrivato allo stesso aeroporto da cui ero
partito. I sobborghi che mi fecero attraversare non erano diversi da quegli
altri, con le stesse case gialline e verdoline. Seguendo le stesse frecce si
girava le stesse aiole delle stesse piazze. Le vie del centro mettevano in
mostra mercanzie imballaggi insegne che non cambiavano in nulla. Era la prima
volta che venivo a Trude, ma conoscevo già l’albergo in cui mi capitò di
scendere; avevo già sentito e detto i miei dialoghi con compratori e venditori
di ferraglia; altre giornate uguali a quella erano finite guardando attraverso
gli stessi bicchieri gli stessi ombelichi che
ondeggiavano.
Perché
venire a Trude? mi chiedevo. E già volevo ripartire.
–
Puoi riprendere il volo quando vuoi, – mi dissero, – ma arriverai a un’altra
Trude, uguale punto per punto, il mondo è ricoperto da un’unica Trude che non
comincia e non finisce, cambia solo il nome
all’aeroporto.
Italo
Calvino, Le
città invisibili
If on arriving at Trude I had not read the city's name
written in big letters, I would have thought I was
landing at the same airport from which I had taken
off. The suburbs they drove me through were no different
from the others, with the same little greenish
and yellowish houses. Following the same signs we
swung around the same flower beds in the same
squares. The downtown streets displayed goods,
packages, signs that had not changed at all. This was
the first time I had come to Trude, but I already
knew the hotel where I happened to be lodged; I had
already heard and spoken my dialogues with the
buyers and sellers of hardware; I had ended other
days identically, looking through the same goblets at
the same swaying navels.
Why come to Trude? I asked myself. And I already
wanted to leave.
"You can resume your flight whenever you like,"
they said to me, "but you will arrive at another
Trude, absolutely the same, detail by detail. The
world is covered by a sole Trude which does not
begin and does not end. Only the name of the airport
changes."
written in big letters, I would have thought I was
landing at the same airport from which I had taken
off. The suburbs they drove me through were no different
from the others, with the same little greenish
and yellowish houses. Following the same signs we
swung around the same flower beds in the same
squares. The downtown streets displayed goods,
packages, signs that had not changed at all. This was
the first time I had come to Trude, but I already
knew the hotel where I happened to be lodged; I had
already heard and spoken my dialogues with the
buyers and sellers of hardware; I had ended other
days identically, looking through the same goblets at
the same swaying navels.
Why come to Trude? I asked myself. And I already
wanted to leave.
"You can resume your flight whenever you like,"
they said to me, "but you will arrive at another
Trude, absolutely the same, detail by detail. The
world is covered by a sole Trude which does not
begin and does not end. Only the name of the airport
changes."
Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities
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