I love living alone. I’ve tried twice already to get my own place, once in Rome and then here in Berlin. I’m always to poor to get anything, also if in fact I’d be actually able to pay for it. I’ve mostly been looking for studio apartments, just for a matter of money, I couldn’t afford a bigger place. I love big flats, I love to have space. When I talk with people everybody would say “one or two rooms are enough for a single person”. Why? It’s like when they see my bedroom here, which is my living space as well and they say it’s big enough. It’s twelve square meters. My parents’ bedroom is over forty square meters, closer to fifty I guess. A bedroom is a place to sleep, but this is not a good reason why it should be a tiny dark prison. My mother’s bedrooms furtniture is my great-grandparents’ one. It’s wooden and it was hand made for them. There are really fine decorations and the bed is so huge and high that when we were kids we always felt we had so much space and when we were in bed we felt we were in the middle of a square or something, since the room was that huge. We needed such a huge room for that amount of furniture. It consists of a bed, two chest of drawers (with 4 and 7 drawers), five chairs, a tall armoir with a huge mirror, an ancient chaise longue with a little piece for the feet, a bureau and and an armchair next to it and a dressing table. The furniture was built for a huge space: the dressing table has a mirror and behind the mirror there’s the picture of a dame. This furniture was decorated both sides (as the bureau, actually), so that could be placed in a dividing position in the room: from one side bedroom, on the room side more of a living space. The original furniture included also a dormeuse, but my greataunt got it. I asked my grandmother why they would have so much stuff in a bedroom and why all these seats. In the original house, where this bedroom was once, they had four rooms to host people. I was said, my great-grandmother could invite, i.e., one of her sisters to sit in the living area of the bedroom, while a guest from her husband would go to study and a guest who’s not part of the family, would be invited in the main living room. I wish I could have breathed some of this atmosphere. The main hall of my grandmother’s house had seats but we would never sit there. Times have changed, in the past the barber, the hairdresser, etc would have waited there. It was a fine family.
Well, going back to the main point: I need space. At the moment I’m being alone here in Berlin, and I do enjoy sleeping in one room, working in another room, eating in another room. When I visit my family that’s how it goes for me. I would sleep in the guest room, have a drink on the terrace, eat in the kitchen, play in the living room. I would always choose to play in the living room. It’s so huge I’ve got a nice echo and then I can sit on these incredibly old sofas, that my grandmother would say “similar ones only in that castle there”. I adore ancient furniture, it makes me dreamy.
I will soon go back to the island. I was born far away and sometimes I forget things. This summer I’ll have “my own house”, which is not mine obviously, but I’ll smoothly move from one room to another. I haven’t slept in that house in about twenty years. If I’ll look up to the vaults, they will be five meters high. I so need it! I’ve humiliated myself, I’ve lost some strenght. The island will restore some of it. I will want to change things, when I’ll be back here. In order to do that, I need to remember a few things. I need to remember how it is to live differently. I need the island and I need my family. I won’t speak english, I won’t speak german, I won’t even speak italian. I can feel some fierce feeling growing in. I need to feed it.