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Sunday, July 31, 2011

Where Born The Tales

Gianni Rodari, would say that fairy tales are everywhere." There's one in every way: in the wood of the table, in the glass, in pink. The story is in there for a long time and does not speak.  Me and you have to wake a sleeping beauty." Here, then do not make excuses, tell stories to your children! No matter if you do not have books, (although for a supporter like me of dusty tomes in print and at risk of allergy, this costs a lot to say), but not private, neither you nor your children the wonderful bond that is created between the narrator and listener. You can tell a little of all those 'rose and magic, even your bad day's work, where you'll have to turn your head and you in a bad witch princess in peril. Or told them how when you were small. Of your games. In short I tell kids, I will resist, often get distracted and do not have the patience to get to the end of your story, we will ask questions, they will also want to be part of that story and interact with it. Do not be afraid to interrupt the thread of the story and rejoice, and your baby grows. I'm surprised as I write stories about how they look, sometimes veiled, their faces and stories of my experiences.

The same story of my grandmother, Graziella "ALBERTO THE WIND" is part of my past and that of sisters. Could not be with her joy and genuineness of his speech. With the grout call when we joked with her, his sayings and his Altamura floral skirts hung out to dry. She called her husband's always sitting next papanonno door of his house in the festival to read Claustro Brothers Tex Willer comics. I left my fairy tale his name, his memory, because I know 'even if he would like to overcome her shyness by taking refuge behind us and we would call grout would give her infectious smile. A farewell to her whose spirit might still lingers in the cloisters of the old town where he lived, and his laughter echoes in the blowing wind.

1 comment:

  1. It was a wonderful day. The clear sky and blue sea. On the waterfront there were bumper cars that clashed. The air had the sweet smell of cotton candy. We took an orange juice and ice for a while we stopped to watch the waves.

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