la-strada

Ultimamente pensare alla vita lo divertiva, come se avesse capito che era inutile preoccuparsi e aveva smesso di farlo, perchè tanto ogni volta che pianificava qualcosa, che cercava di fare ordine, poi la vita ribaltava tutto e lo metteva di fronte a un bivio diverso da quello che aveva previsto.

Fabio Volo, La strada verso casa

anonymous asked:

Non ho potuto far altro che notare che non credi nell'amore,perché?

È un discorso complicato.
Sono un'inguaribile romantica che crede nell'amore degli altri, passerei tutta la mia vita a leggere e scrivere poesie. Penso solo che l'amore e tutte quelle cose non facciano per me. Ci sono molti motivi che mi hanno portata a questa conclusione.
Questo non significa che non credo nell'amore e che ho il cuore di pietra, sono solo emotivamente bloccata. È colpa mia perché ho paura della monotonia, dei sentimenti forti e laceranti e di essere pateticamente dipendente da una persona.. Dall'altro lato non ho mai incontrato ragazzi capaci di rompere il muro e quantomeno provare a farmi cambiare idea.
Ma non posso biasimarli, io mi comporterei esattamente come loro.. Insomma, scegliamo tutti la strada più semplice.

Succede,nella vita, succede di fallire.
Semplicemente fallire.
Succede di essere così tanto vicini alla meta da essere convinti, quasi certi di averla toccata e raggiunta, ma all'improvviso vederla allontanarsi, e ad un tratto svanire nel nulla.
Succede, ma si può comunque continuare a provare, una volta compreso di non essere più vicino ad essa. Oppure ci si può semplicemente rendere conto che l'abbiamo, sì, raggiunta, ma questa poi ci ha lasciato andare perché non era la meta giusta. E quindi comprendere che la strada non era affatto errata, ma la meta era ancora più lontana o magari più vicino di quanto pensassimo.

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film meme | ½ decades 

1950’s

I’m just a storyteller, and the cinema happens to be my medium. I like it because it recreates life in movement, enlarges it, enhances it, distills it. For me, it’s far closer to the miraculous creation of life than, say, a painting or music or even literature. It’s not just an art form; it’s actually a new form of life, with its own rhythms, cadences, perspectives and transparencies. It’s my way of telling a story. -Federico Fellini

Giulietta Masina on the set of La Strada (1954, dir. Federico Fellini) (via)

“Mr. Fellini says that his wife sometime resists his view of her talents, which he summarizes as ‘a mingling of youngish and clownish.’ But make no mistake: in suggesting that his wife is a clown, Mr. Fellini means no insult. ‘The clown is the aristocracy of acting,’ he says. ‘To be a clown means to have the possibility of making people cry and laugh.’

(via)

This legendary Italian composer Nino Rota created iconic scores for countless films. This week, you can enjoy some of his greatest – including 8 ½, JULIET OF THE SPIRITS, LA STRADA, and PURPLE NOON – for free on our @hulu channel.

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“Giulietta. I’d wanted for some time to make a film for her. She’s singularly able to express astonishment, dismay, frenetic happiness, the comic somberness of a clown. For me a clownesque talent in an actor is the most precious gift she can have. Giulietta’s the kind of actress who’s very congenial with what I want to do, with my taste.”

- Federico Fellini on his wife  Giulietta Masina

Giulietta was robbed once in the street… One day she was taking some things to the jewelers to be mended, two rings and some platinum cuff links of mine. We were just turning the corner of Via Margutta, and a Lambretta with two boys on it came past. Giulietta was talking to me and didn’t notice at first that one of the boys had snatched her bag. As soon as she told me, I bounded off like a kangaroo, yelling, “Stop, thief!” So the boys on the scooter started yelling, “Stop, thief!” as well. I followed them round the corner of Via Babuino, and there was a big lout of a policeman with a helmet and a gun, lolling on an enormous motorcycle. “They’ve stolen my wife’s bag!” I said. He looked at me and sneered, “What am I supposed to do about it?”

When I came home the next afternoon, there was a man propped against the wall reading a newspaper. “Eh, Federí,” he said, “why don’t you take a look in Trastevere?” When I started asking him who he was and to repeat what he had said, he said he hadn’t spoken. So I went to Trastevere and wandered about. I went into a bar at one point and a boy said to me, “Giulietta shouldn’t have gone to the police station.” “Why not?” “The stuff, you want it back or not?” I was really enjoying all this. So I gave him our telephone number. After a few days a man telephoned and asked for Giulietta. He said a little boy had brought him a packet and told him to ring that telephone number. He gave the name of a bar in Trastevere, so I went there that afternoon and the packet was waiting for me in the drawer of the cash register. They didn’t want anything, no reward, nothing. And the next day we got a letter saying, “Pardon us, Gelsomina.” Dickensian stuff, no?

Federico Fellini, 1988