Contains a series of snapshots of the everyday lives of the young inhabitants of Nicosia. What we were asking was to get a glimpse of their lives, to get an immediate, spontaneous idea of their identities, with no filters and no mediation. This is the task that these young people enthusiastically set out to do: to document and manifest a part of their lives that is usually reserved to their closest friends and family. That the participants of this project, those who made this book possible, came both from the Greek Cypriot community of Nicosia as well as from the Turkish Cypriot one, seems almost futile to point out. Futile, because one of this book's purposes was precisely to defy the need for such specifications.
In 1971, at the age of seventy-seven, Eugenio Montale published Satura, a book that was very much a novelty in the context of his previous poetry. After years of silence, he came back with a different voice and a different language; abandoning his elevated verses, his hermetic propulsion, he now proposed a new, more immediate idiom, that somehow demystified his own medium, poetry. This language is a prosaic, explicit one, characterized by an extreme vitality, that is almost, at times, aggressive. It is a language lowered from the great heights of pure poetry.
The result is a great, rich, crazy, beautiful mosaic of things and places and faces, made up of houses inside and out, neighbourhoods, streets, shops, unmade beds, plants, animals, excursions, portraits, selfies, cars, photos of photos. Throughout all this, history is much like a background noise, one that is so constant and present, you almost stop hearing it.