It got out of the darkness of an art gallery, flying, and so coming back to its species’ natural lightness. A fragile, staggering a little bit stunned appearance was the consequence of the acrylic glues and toxic paints of the paintings and various objects as that area was rich in galleries. It looked for rests rested on the roof of the parked cars. Sometimes it got up trembling. It went on splitting the air.
As soon as it reached the corner and the crossroads, it was accidentally right into the Café Monet, where the accustomed of the Academy were consuming their cappuccino. It had delicately settled on the leaf tattooed on the arm of a young Japanese woman concentrated in her breakfast.
“It’s a beautiful still life,” said the man who stood beside her at the counter, waiting for his coffee. “Japanese peach leaf,” replied the young woman. What about the moth? ” he insisted, with curiosity. “Ah, it’s a welcome passing guest,” he went on while looking at moth’s small wings swinging on her skin. “Beautiful, your tattoo, still life and the living being”, the man replied enthusiastically.
Can I take a photo with my smartphone? – “Of course” – she whispered, showing off her arm. After immortalizing her in the shot, he left the bar. By checking in his smartphone, he noticed that no moth appeared in the photo, but only the Japanese peach leaf.
Angela Passarello
Is a poet and a painter, living in Milan to which she moved from Agrigento.
Her publications include: Asina Pazza (short stories, 1997), La Carne dell’Angelo (Poetry, 2002) and the poetic prose Ananta dalle voci bianche.
The poetic collection Piano Argento ed. del Verri 2014, Pani scrittu, ed. del Pulcino, Elefante (2014), Bestie sulla scena ed. del Verri 2020. Her paintings and ceramics have been exhibited at the Mudima Foundation in 2019.
