In the heart of Tuscia

By Federica Bressan

A set of pictures taken over a summertime inspires a young woman to relive her relationship with an adventurous man with whom she explored the land of Tuscia, a territory south of Tuscany. As she goes through the pictures, she tells the story to herself and to the man, alternating between "he" and "you", past and present, as if constantly falling in and out of her memories, flickering between reality and imagination.
Every chapter is dedicated to a place in Tuscia, which the couple visits as their friendship develops into love and a path of personal growth. The last chapter tells of a tattoo, as if the body were also a place, where the symbol of this journey into the heart of Tuscia is indelibly written.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Edizioni Sette Città
• Release date: Jul 19, 2022
• ISBN: 9788878539754

Book preview

1. Lake Vico

I remember exactly where I was sitting after I got off the phone with Fabrizio. On the wall of the Blera bridge, near Pian del Vescovo. I was still relatively new there. I was not familiar with the places and I did not feel at home. Disoriented, uprooted, with my mind full of the words just spoken on the phone, sharp and difficult to untangle.

I was sitting there like something forgotten, with nowhere to go nor a reason to move. And that's where Picciò called me, though at that time he was not yet called Picciò.

I am not sure whether Picciò called me right away or whether he wrote me a message first. Or whether by any chance it was me who wrote first. But I don't think so. Salvation came from him. I was there and I remember being saved.

Hello? I am a different person when I answer the phone, not the same who was talking to Fabrizio a short moment ago. I must sound aloof, almost annoyed: I was caught up in my thoughts, I was busy focusing on my sadness. Stubborn, I didn't want to be distracted.

He asks me out: I'll show you a nice place.

Go out, me? No... I should get changed, I'm tired, I'm sad. And then, who knows where he takes me. I feel like I'm losing control. And... can I trust him?

He insists. This man I have known for a short time and who wants to go out with me is getting on my nerves tremendously. Why does he want to go out with me? Doesn't he have anyone else to bother? Then something clicks in me. I know that if I keep saying no, I will drag myself home and spend the the rest of the day getting depressed. I think: what do I have to lose? And I accept. We agree to meet in town, near the Piagge di Sotto. In ten minutes? Ok.

The road to the town is not long, but I will need every bit of the ten minutes it takes to get there to be on time. And I don't move right away. I can't get up from that wall. I need to sort out my thoughts. So I know I will be late. And the day is already drawing to a close.

I wasn't exactly presentable. I don't remember the state of my hair and what I was thinking of my face at the time, but I remember that I wasn't dressed well, that I had my stinky backpack, the one that is tearing apart, and that I stank, too.

I arrived late for the appointment. I made him wait. I was sorry, but at the same time... I don't know why, for so long I have been difficult with him. I always complained about something, but I didn't care. I was grumpy and I let myself do it. I would like to give an explanation now that a long time has passed, but I don't know what to say. I don't like to behave like that, even though... it's nice when someone holds tight even if you get thorny. For once, someone who doesn't run away if you're not in adoration. Perhaps the beauty of that time was that he was persistent despite my constant rejections. These things don't happen anymore. I think it's called courting.

That evening my legs seemed to be moved by fate. When I turned the corner and spotted his car, I wasn't in control. In my memory, that moment has supernatural tones. I can't think of a better word to describe it than: destiny.

But at the time, of course, I didn't know. I think I was ashamed of how I looked, but – guess what? – I couldn't care less. I didn't have the strength to care.

I walked around the car – bigger than I expected, – I opened the back door to put my backpack in, and then I sat in the front. I remember thinking the car was nicer and cleaner than I expected. It seemed to me that I was being picked up by a gentleman. I became intimidated. I was expecting something else, a battered car, with the signs of a life that I am not interested in being a part of. I expected him to be more scattered, and instead he was well dressed, with taste, nothing extravagant but with style, and he smelled of order and clean. It goes without saying that I felt even worse for my condition, but – que faire? Stubborn in my sorrow, I had a pouting armor on me, and if he had said to me: Hey, you know you look terrible? I would have barked I KNOW! I know that I don't dress like a woman, that I don't take good care of myself, that I'm ruffled inside and out. Thanks for reminding me, 'Dude' with the shirt and the car and the hands and the nose and everything! Easy for you who have everything.

But he didn't say it.

I must have asked: where are you taking me? But I don't recall the rest of the conversation. I remember that during the trip I was very quiet. Truly, bad company. But the good thing was that I let myself be carried. And he carried me. I hadn't felt his energy and confidence behind the steering wheel. I was a newbie. I was only concerned with looking out the window. I didn't really care about the things I was seeing, because in my head I was still fixated on Fabrizio. What do I care about the world if I cannot have him? Fields, trees, street signs, guard rails, more cars, more trees... everything passes by, and passes me by. Too much world, I don't have the strength. If it had been up to me, I would have pulled over. But I was being carried, and I let myself be carried.

Sitting in silence, I thought if he wondered what kind of person he has in the car. I felt weird, unpleasant,