On the red lagoon at sunset the profiles of the islands, San Clemente, La Grazia, Sacca Sessola and on the dark strip of Lido, just behind Poveglia, Malamocco. "And a picture... a picture..." the enchanted aunts said. "What a stupendous reflection of gold that pierces the water! Look at that ray of sunshine that sets on that bragozzo down there!" Then, since in addition to aesthete they were also gourmets, they began to extract from the baskets the containers with fish salad, stuffed hard-boiled eggs, San Daniele ham.
"I think I know why your mother is feeling unwell." Aunt Emma said pouring herself a glass of wine. "You will have to read the article by Gino Damerini Scandeletto in Venice for Hemingway's novel. Luckily Gino, besides being the director of the 'Gazzettino,' is also a friend of the family and avoided mentioning your name, but... "
"...but that's enough! You know that..." I had to interrupt because a piece of hard-boiled egg had gone the wrong way.
"We know, dear." smiled sweet Aunt Laura. "We believe in your beautiful friendship. It is really a pity that it gets muddied like this..."
"Muddy, you said it right, Laura. How much malignancy there is in men! But it must be admitted that Hemingway was a little... a little rash." observed Aunt Emma.
"Being a little reckless is part of the craft of the writer." I said. "How to judge Giuseppe Berto, then? He was one of the professors of the Commission in my last exams. I felt intimidated in front of him. And in fact I was not very brilliant in the exams, even though I was among the best at school. Passing through Venice once he phoned me and I invited him to breakfast. That day there was no one, we were alone at the table. I did my best to put him at ease but the professor hardly opened his mouth. One that breakfast was very boring, I recall. When I saw him again - in the meantime he had published Il cielo e rosso - he was the same old person; self-confident,...
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