Franco Bizzotto
Consultant? The fact is that Palazzo Roberti is an alienating place. Quantum sorcerers would call it multidimensional, others with their feet more on the ground nevertheless grasp its attractive composite magic. Because the books, so tenderly cultivated by the booksellers-gardeners, propose infinite paths; relationships that are revealed by the care with which they are placed, but also by the randomness and the eye of those who observe them, and seize the opportunities. So strong is their evocative power that the shelves are made not only of the books that are there, but also of the ones that are absent, which hover in what forever remains their old home. A house as marvelous as Hansel and Gretel's little house in the woods, made of marzipan and candy canes (but without the witch's ambush), the lawn shaded by two leafy jujubes, edged with flowers for every season, and Countess Roberti ready to receive her exquisite diners.
Hey you, are you still here? What are you saying?
Me? Nothing, consulting.
