Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Aurora
Those who at dawn come to the city of Aurora are at first struck by her imposing circle of defending walls.
Entering from the Eastern Door they must all walk along a path that borders the internal side of the walls where, in some filthy niches, whores and beggars take their place besides piles of appalling junk. Then the travellers come to a turn to the left, where a large avenue points directly to the centre of Aurora.
All can therefore triumphantly ride through the many districts of Aurora that follow one after the other, starting from the sordid suburbs, towards the houses of the poor people and then to those of the petty bourgeoisie or of the affluent professionals, and finally to the huge mansions of the nobles with their splendid and inaccessible private gardens.
One is almost arrived to the city centre, where in the middle of a big square bordered by fashionable portici, rises the Castle, the seat of power, of unparalleled elegance and of the sponsorship of science.
Just then the traveller is stopped by an interruption: the road is closed, imperative signs order to go left or right. The traveller complies, looks for another entry road for the city centre, passes bridges, gets backs in dirty alleys, even discovers peaceful campiellis with a Venetian vera da pozzo or an ancient tree in the middle. But he cannot find again the road he left.
The sun starts to go down, at first noticed with some surprise: it’s past noon already! Then its descending path is spied with concern, finally with terror or deep bitterness.
No foreigner can stay inside Aurora after sunset under penalty of death.
According to tradition, in all centuries, only one foreigner succeeded in entering the Castle: a monk from the desert.
But that can’t be possibly true since we are told that he made all the journey on his knees.
Entering from the Eastern Door they must all walk along a path that borders the internal side of the walls where, in some filthy niches, whores and beggars take their place besides piles of appalling junk. Then the travellers come to a turn to the left, where a large avenue points directly to the centre of Aurora.
All can therefore triumphantly ride through the many districts of Aurora that follow one after the other, starting from the sordid suburbs, towards the houses of the poor people and then to those of the petty bourgeoisie or of the affluent professionals, and finally to the huge mansions of the nobles with their splendid and inaccessible private gardens.
One is almost arrived to the city centre, where in the middle of a big square bordered by fashionable portici, rises the Castle, the seat of power, of unparalleled elegance and of the sponsorship of science.
Just then the traveller is stopped by an interruption: the road is closed, imperative signs order to go left or right. The traveller complies, looks for another entry road for the city centre, passes bridges, gets backs in dirty alleys, even discovers peaceful campiellis with a Venetian vera da pozzo or an ancient tree in the middle. But he cannot find again the road he left.
The sun starts to go down, at first noticed with some surprise: it’s past noon already! Then its descending path is spied with concern, finally with terror or deep bitterness.
No foreigner can stay inside Aurora after sunset under penalty of death.
According to tradition, in all centuries, only one foreigner succeeded in entering the Castle: a monk from the desert.
But that can’t be possibly true since we are told that he made all the journey on his knees.
# posted by Stinco di Manzo @ 3:22 AM 
