LO STRALISCO / Roberto Piumini

Lo Stralisco di Roberto Piumini (1987)

Through painting and imagination the world enters the room of a sick child who is gently accompanied to his death. The story of a delicate and absolute friendship.

"In the following days Sakumat and Madurer spent a lot of time together, playing and talking. - What will you paint, Sakumat? - asked the boy. - 'I don't know yet, Madurer. I have thought about it a lot, but my mind has remained blank, as white as the walls of this room. - But you will paint, won't you? - Of course, Madurer. But first we have to talk about it, you and I. We must decide what we want. “(…)

 - What is that? - Madurer asked one morning, after observing a stretch of the sea horizon in silence for a long time. - That? That's the sea. - No! That ... - he pointed to the boy, - that little spot on the sea, a little to the left of the cloud. Can you see it?

 (…) - I don't know what it is, Madurer,' said the painter, 'I have never seen it before. But it must be something. Isn't it a bird? - No, if it were a bird it would be a little raised from the horizon, or completely invisible. But what could it be, Sakumat? Could it be a distant island? - Sure. Or it could be an island not too far away, but very small. - Or it could be a ship! - Yes, it could. - How do we know, Sakumat? - We just wait. If it's still here tomorrow, it's an island. If it's gone, or come closer, it's a ship. - Then we wait. The next morning, as soon as he woke up, the boy ran to the wall. - It's still there, look! It's gotten bigger: it's a ship approaching!" (…)

  “One day Madurer began to add thin, golden ears of corn, which stood out in the grass and pushed their tops down into the blue sky, but not too far. - Has the wheat arrived in our meadow? - said a smiling Sakumat, who sometimes stopped behind the boy to watch his work. - Has the wind brought it all the way from the great Firat valley? - It is not wheat,' answered Madurer seriously, 'these are not ears of corn. - Not wheat? But it looks like wheat: a fine grain... - Yes. It is similar to wheat. But they are ears of stralisk (corn).

  (…) - You mean our landscapes can continue? - he said. - They can go on, yes. And change. If we want to. - Change how? Become more beautiful? - They are already beautiful, Madurer. But we can go on in history, add the rest of life." (…)

 - "Father, do you see? The meadow is falling asleep,' Madurer said." Three times this sentence repeated to the father. "- Father, do you know what the meadow feels? - You mean the grass? - Yes, the grass, the flowers. Even what is not grass and flowers. The earth, the animals, the small stones, the roots. The meadow. The whole meadow. Do you know what it feels like? - I am listening to you, - and Ganuan put his head close to his son's. - The meadow feels a happy tiredness, - said the child, with the tone of someone who reveals a secret, - like when you run a lot in the game. The meadow has run a lot..." (…)