The noise of mistakes

By Antonio Cotardo

Alberto is a thirty years old man whom life has given everything a person would need to be happy. True happiness, however, goes beyond the fulfillment of materialism and if you have outstanding accounts with yourself, you must find a way to solve them once and forever.

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"The noise of mistakes "is a story common to many people. An intertwining of emotions, sounds, perfumes, words, memories and solitudes. Through these pages, in fact, it will be possible to take a trip on board of yourself, rediscovering the importance of some values ​​that are unfortunately losing, convinced that new communication technologies can replace them or, even, supplant them.

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Antonio Cotardo was born in Lecce on May 8, 1991. He lives in Caprarica di Lecce where he has a green care business. Music and culture are the pillars of his life, an antidote to the monotony of reality that fights above all through the study of singing. He has a website, www.antoniocotardo.it, where he deals with reviews of books and various articles. He published in 2016 a poetic sylloge entitled Venticinque, Edit Santoro, translated into English in 2017. The noise of mistakes is his first novel, a touching story in which the author highlights the fragility of human beings, advising to take life with a big and wonderful smile.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Youcanprint
• Release date: May 7, 2019
• ISBN: 9788831616744

Book preview

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PREFACE

Changes in the paths during the journey of life. A plot of events narrated with simplicity and immediacy, linked together by the mental processes of the protagonist, his thoughts and his reflections, with a generous interior exposure that intersects with the external reality. I am delighted to write this introduction to the novel of a young friend, whom I appreciate for the coherence and courage of words. They are words and thoughts of disarming simplicity, which make up a plausible story, of what we could read in a news article or among the posts admitted to our vision by the algorithm of Facebook. The story of a young businessman who chooses to build his future in the south, grateful to his origins and proud of his dreams, which materializes in his work, in the family and in love. But life can change its course even for a moment of weakness or superficiality, perhaps because of our sordid certainty of controlling it and curing it in all its aspects. From that moment the error becomes a pervasive presence and generates chain reactions, it is debated within us and generates a subtle and incessant noise. It seems to hear him, that noise, scrolling through the pages and listening to the dialogues of the actors who appear on the scene of this novel, sometimes slow in the story and sometimes impatient to narrate facts and characters. On the scene the images of nature and places flow, which coincide with those where Antonio, a sensitive and obstinate author, interweaves his memories and personal experiences with those of the protagonist of this story. And the story ends in Salento, where Antonio decided to live. His job as a gardener, his passion for singing, his talent for poetry. His maturity, sometimes jarring with the registration at the civil office of the small town of Caprarica. The surprising simplicity with which he paints his land, the slowness of the days and the colours of nature. The extraordinary ability to observe society and lay bare its problems and dissonances. In a small town of Salento errors make noise, are noted and spoken in the square, the bar and the market. Who will speak instead of the life of so many young people, like Antonio? He, who regulates a hedge to give merit to nature, which modulates his voice with the song to express the notes of life and writes, sometimes without rereading, but it is a pleasure for me to scroll the lines and be his friend.

Mary Troiano

Acknowledgments

Now that everything is finally ready to be laid out, I want to thank people who believed in me and who will continue to do it until they think it's right. I chose to thank at the beginning of this story, because often, for lack of time, or for pure cosmic rejection, we usually do not read what ultimately represents the most important part of the book. I thank Giuseppe Pascali for his time and for his dispassionate advice. I thank Inventiamo Eventi di Neviano, in particular Fiorella Mastria, Cristina Sansone and Cinzia Panico, for the professionalism and passion they put in their modus operandi. Alessandra Corsano, a precious and indispensable friend, especially for her continuous support, without which, probably, I would never have published any books. I thank Ferdinando Scavran, an extraordinary man of culture, an example of life and from whom I learned so much, simply by reading. I thank the Nike Academy, represented by Flavia Abati, a lovely woman with brilliant ideas. I thank Fondo Verri and in particular Piero Rapanà, Mauro Marino and Gianni Minerva, a group of people united by cultural passion, the same that made me fall in love with Antonio Verri’s poetry. I thank my sister and my brother-in-law for the hospitality in Milan, without which I probably would not have finished writing this novel. I thank Silvio Valzani and Mary Troiano, for the continuous artistic support in Bari area and for infinite esteem. I thank the Kronos Association of Campi Salentina, always available and friendliness with me. I thank Paolo Vincenti, a friend as few: our phone calls, our cultural meetings and his writings, gave me the chance of growing a lot. I thank Antonio Rizzo, a skilled beauty farmer. The Municipality of Caprarica di Lecce for the expressed proximity when someone tries to make culture. I thank the Jamming Bar, represented by Silvano and Alessio, for the artistic support and for the best coffee in the world. I would like to thank Dr Annarita D'aversa for her expert advices as reader, my singing teacher Apollonio Scardino, for the continuous and close encouragement to deepen and study. Irene De Ronzo for the wonderful work of translation, always precise and attentive. Finally, but as I have already said on other occasions, not in order of importance, I thank my old friends, those who, beyond the virtual world, support me and, above all, bear me every day. This story was born reflecting different issues of daily real life that are particularly close to my heart. In some of them I focused a bit more, in others I wanted to give only some considerations because in my opinion, you should never emphasize events: everyone acts as he likes, our task is to stimulate thinking through art, whether written, sung, danced or painted.

Have a good reading …

By your Antonio.

CHAPTER 1

What I am going to tell you, although I could not do it, is the oldest story in the world and it is precisely for this reason that I should not have bothered to write it, especially since perhaps at this point, you do not even want to know it. After all, why should you be interested in the story of a perfect stranger, anonymous even to himself, and moreover, already heard? Strange to say, but often we are more interested in what happens in the lives of other people than in ours. A bit like when, listening to people talking about someone we know, we try to stretch our ears as much as possible to hear what they are saying: who has not done it at least once? In short, there is nothing wrong, they are simple scenes of everyday life, it’s quite normal! However, before that I lose my train of thought, let me take the time to explain, at least to you, how things actually went. I will not start saying once upon a time: certain things there were, there are and will always be there, but whatever it is, we must prepare ourselves to face them brutally, without shame to fall, if one day should happen. And then even if it were, what harm would there be? Who has never fallen? Everything started many years ago, precisely thirty-four, when my parents decided to make me born. My mother was Sicilian while my father was from Salento, both sons of farmers and, just teenagers, had escaped from the South of Italy in search of fortune in the North and, after having hardly completed their studies with immense sacrifices by doing evening works and with hunger pangs that often knock at my door as they were the worst of nightmares, luck decided to make them meet. Yes, because luck is like this: the more you look for it, the less you get it. Luck is neither sought nor pursued, luck should be left where it is: luck should be left in peace! She decides when it's time to change goal and when it does eventually, you just have to realize it. Those were difficult years, post-war years in which a grim and implacable selfishness reigned in the air. People got bad, more than anything else desperate, indeed, perhaps the most correct term is: exasperated. The last world war in fact, had reset the possibilities of living of many Italian families. In the South, however, at least until a few decades ago, people have always managed to get away with encouraging one another. So it was that Angelica La Rosa and Nicola Calamò, emigrated to Milan. They worked at night and studied during the day, worked during the day and studied at night, worked day and night and studied in the afternoon. There were no other solutions for living: you had to pay your rent and stay away from home without any financial support from your parents. It would not have been the case to ask for help, no way! The bread was missing everywhere and they felt guilty for having taken away the work force from their families who, during that particular historical period, had many children to grow and two more hands were useful in the harsh country life. Obviously you had to feed another mouth, and that would not have been a problem, at most, they would have given up eating in order to feed their children, but mother Earth, if cured, always gets to satisfy everyone:

- Do not worry about us Nicola, do what you have to do, we'll do the same!

At that time it was common thought not to plan the number of children, they made them, without receiving subsidies or bonuses for the second child.

However, both were unique children. A rare case? Undoubtedly! But what are exactly these rare cases? Are not all of us rare cases in the universe? They finished their studies and the famous fortune I mentioned before made itself felt through good job prospects. After years of sacrifices, finally there was a turning point so that she was hired in the Social Security Service office while her husband worked in a bank, at first as a simple employee, and, after a few years he became bank manager.

- Mom, Dad, I was taken on a permanent work! My mother exclaimed gladly.

- But it's great, my daughter! - My grandparents answered in chorus.

My mother Angelica, born in 1955, was a woman with a capital W: long brown hair perfectly combed, sky-coloured eyes and refined ways surrounded by impeccable clothing. In those days, in the sixties, good manners were not a way of saying, you had it or you were inculcated by slapping, kicks in your ass or beatings with leather