EXPERIENCE COLOURS
The 20 Italian regions virtually blaze in color
depending on how fast COVID is spreading.
The red areas are those with the most restrictions.
The orange ones, the yellow ones, and like marshmallows on the cake,
the enchanting island of Sardinia, the only white area — —
a tourist destination coveted by ordinary Italians and international tycoons.
I love colors, orange in particular, preferably bright orange.
In my provincial capital, in Bologna and its hinterland, a new shade of paint is being ushered in — dark orange, a euphemism, so as not to mention red, a gesture of mercy to break down people’s already shaky morale.
It’s like when the teacher gives you a C minus at school, and you feel slightly relieved, even though it’s
a five and a half.
I love colors; I love numbers, I love words, I love creation, I love human beings even if sometimes it is necessary to keep
a distance.
Anyway, here we are in March.
March is a reward, no matter if snow may fall on one of its days.
The beautiful yellow of the reverse bicolored daffodils and the purple of the violets stand as a visible seal of victory over winter.
It happened that a conscious wind carried some seeds
to the corner of my garden — —
close to a few daffodils I had planted — —
becoming violets.
Anyway, now that I’ve shown you how important colors are in my life.
I confess that I am uncomfortable whenever a color defines the degree of contagion of the Italian regions.
In 2012, my hitherto unknown country was hit by a strong earthquake that brought it to the NYT’s front page, with the image of a thirteenth-century clock tower that was vertically ripped in half.
I remember a short-circuit black night that time. There was no talk of colors,
but the Mercalli Scale and magnitudes.
Note: I see dark orange as the unique color of tamarind.
What can I do?
I’m a chromophile.
