MONDO PULEO

Aristotelian eudaemonia Petrarchist ethics And mom’s moderation Antiquity of thoughts Past feelings And the presence of admonition ...

Un sentiero pauroso Mi spinse per un percorso sconosciuto Non sapendo Una scelta Non volendo Una scoperta Nascosto nel cuore C’era Il...

Tra le tenebri della notte E il luccichio del mattino Abbandoniamo la casetta vuota Per salire di nascosto Su un’auto tutta nera Tra la...

Via Principe Umberto 33 fu' la casa dove nacqui'. Più in la' nel percorso della mia vita, mia mamma mi confido', "Sei stato la prima cosa...

If you grew up in Sicily, chances are that your first language was Sicilian. Indeed, the Sicilian language is recognized by UNESCO as...

Infinite Voyage Siculi, Sicani, and Sicilians Phoenicians, Greeks, and Romans Landing on an endless beach Pulejo, Puleio, and Puleo...

If there ever was a dream that I wanted to come through for me, it was to become a student. The image of carrying books, writing tools,...

Raccolti vicino al focolare Tenere croste di pane Bagnate in un tiepido caffe’ d’orzo Lentamente brucia il legno E lentamente svanisce...

Now that my brother is gone, a phrase that I uttered when I was two years old and that my mother often referred to with a sly smile when...

Sono nata Senza spazio E tempo Sona sbocciata Senza ossigeno E radici Sono cresciuta Senza cura E ambiente Mi rabbrividi’ Nel cuore Del...

Una ceramica Smaltata Un regalo Affettuoso Una casetta Appennina Senza Chiave Ma tanto Cuore Appesa A sorpresa Ma sospesa Nel Sogno...

The Voice of Silence An ancient cry Buried In clods Of the dry land A voice Drowned In the veins Of the submerged sea Scattered tears...

Una candela senza fiamma Un uomo senza respiro Un fiore senza sole Senza vita La candela Si spegne lentamente Un’uomo S’addormenta...

Since it has been impossible to store validated knowledge since the beginning of recorded human history in our minds, I have always been...

My brother Joe was more American than me. The paradox was that Joe was perceived as an American and lived in Cassano d'Adda, Lombardia,...

Sicilian is my native language. Yet, to survive in an Italian academic system and in a melting pot American society, I acquired Italian...

When I arrived in the United States in April 1966, I was excited about my new life in America. Everything was different. I felt reborn, a...

After many years of trying to make a living in Boston, I returned to Italy in the summer of 1997. Having been away from Italy for over 25...

When my mom died, I did not have a chance to say goodbye. Anxiously I rushed home from teaching. When I arrived there, I could read on my...