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town of Pinerolo

The story "The Piave whispered ..." ranked 4th place in the National Literary Prize XX City of Pinerolo.

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Ousitanio

The four stone houses form a square that is little more than a widening of the road is so narrow. On one side of a wisteria salt clinging to a small balcony that juts out toward the four players who are giving their best performance of a curent of Varaita. Sitting
the table of the old inn, go listen to the imperfect and the hurdy-gurdy organ to which they make to counter the flute and violin, while at the center of the square two men and two women perform with the popular figures of the dance steps.
From time to time the evening breeze leaves the mountains and down to fill the streets and the courtyards between the houses, while the moon peeping out from somewhere above the rooftops.
There is an old man sitting in front of the house, apparently deep in thought, and I imagine he's thinking about a night like this, when you were young and in this square, after a day of toil on the steep field, tried still find a way to talk to the girl in front, be seen that without looking at him from time to time, hoping to invite her to dance. The players change
music, attacking a Bouree and I start thinking about how beautiful this music, ancient and modern together, that seems locked in the mountains, but it suddenly flies away and then feel that speaks of Provence and Gascony, with the scent of lavender and larch, which smacks of polenta with anchovies, travel, wind, sun and sea.
the music ends, the dancers stop and the old part of the house, then I get up and go by the players, I just want to congratulate him, but we begin to talk and talk and little by little I do find out what it means to Occitan. It 's late, then a final finish bicchiere e vado anche io, mentre penso alle parole della canzone:
“Remesclas. De sang e de musica, de temps e de gents, de raives e d’ideas. L’òme que coneis sa terra a ren pòur, se mescla. E remescla. Aquò qu’aiva dran a-n-aquò qu’al a devant. Aquò que ven da luenh e aquò qu’es siu. Aquò que se pòl veire e aquò que se pantalha. Lo sonarie que vira viatgia e pòrta via, ritorna e pòrta a-n-aquò siu aquò qu’a vist e aquò qu’a escotat. Sonaire de viola. Sonaire de valada. Valadas occitanas, valadas de frontiera. Valadas de remesclas.” (Lou Dalfin)

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From L'Eco del Chisone

Well, let me return the article published in L'Eco del Chisone of July 8, 2009 that speaks of my book, you know, I care.

In the new historical novel Candide Bottin
The mystery of the Church of Scalenghe
It was released earlier this year for "The publisher Boopen" the novel "The new church. The reconstruction of the Parish of Scalenghe" of young architect Candido scalenghese Bottin.
The author has already published in 2007, "The Border", a short novel set in Gorizia, on the square Transalpina, where in 2004 he was removing the border that separated Italy from Slovenia.
This is a short historical novel (easy to read with a fresh and free and easy), based largely on a true story, which emerged from the consultation of documents kept in the parish and that embraces the history of Piedmont Savoy between 1680 and 1740.
and 1732 with the fall of the old church of Pieve di Scalenghe and the parish priest, Father Piero Berruto, is committed to the reconstruction of the church, designed by none other than arch. Gian Giacomo Plantery. But there is little mystery in which the priest does not know: in the former church is hiding a secret that some notables of the time, including the Count and Baron Folgore Piossasco Salvey Cumiana, do not want to come to light
... "With this second - explains Bottin - I approached more to the interests and knowledge of my life as an architect. "
The book can be purchased on the Internet, www.boopen.it, the library or even order in Scalenghe library.

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Being in the middle of the afternoon with this heat I had a great effort. The air heavy, wet, sticky and sound that could cut into blocks and stacked like stones of a cathedral, would not let me breathe. Above, the sky gray and uniform, that prevented refreshing view of the mountains, closing the circle of annoyance. Then came
, announced by a rumble and the darkening of the sky beyond, towards Liguria, with a violent roar, liberator. After the mass of clouds opened, freeing the mountains here and there, the air finally cooled returning with pleasure to fill the lungs.
Even plants and grass in the garden we met understood, almost as ducks and geese could not believe the luck of an unexpected and wonderful puddle in the yard. The fig tree in the corner of the garden, waiting for me dripping from ripe fruit. We were all blessed the most valuable asset.
Then, just in front of me I saw a pink open and enjoy the life that the water was offered.
And so, I also wet from the rain, I wanted the world to be like my garden, and each man as the rose and can also enjoy the water of life that is offered.