I plan to attend the inauguration of the work to complete the Archaeological Park of Cultural Castelraimondo to Forgaria Friuli 14 October 2006, but occurred commitments, I had to give up. The curiosity see what had been discovered after nearly twenty years of study by the University of Bologna and Parma, on a site that dates back certainly pre-Roman times, led me to visit the place some days later. The atmosphere is great! Going by car from the road Forgaria on which are perched the houses in the township that has developed on Zuc Scjaramont, you open every bend widening the landscape for which the 'hill was chosen as the site of look. But even as a privileged place of residence, for a people like the Celts felt that the "poem of wide horizons. "
Leave the car in the deserted courtyard last villa built by the Celts as someone who certainly knows how to appreciate the poetry of the "breath of the valley," I continued to walk the path as shown equipped . Those stones that were excavated from infinite patience of young archaeologists, they gave me a deep emotion. "I'm putting my feet," I thought, on stones worked by people who have gone before in the history of these places, of two thousand four hundred years. What thoughts, words that have linked their work to those stones? In the silence punctuated only by the sound of my footsteps seemed to feel, to hear the voices of the yard to sniff the smell of sweat in an effort to move those big boulders, with no other equipment that the hands and the ability to force together. "Oh! heave! "onomatopoeia that accompanies the effort, maybe it was the same in the language of the Celts. "Oh! heave! "I seemed to hear echoes in the wood, and twisted trees of the forest wilderness, stimulate my imagination. "Oh heave!" I thought ribalzasse the cry from stone to stone, as if the stones nor repeated the echo after so many centuries ...
It was a gloomy day autumn. He seemed to rain at any moment, but it was not raining ... Even the weather seemed suspended in the history of those suspended between rows of stones, which had once been a wall, which were the foundation of a house, a stable in a tower, which had been the objects of thought of other men. Stones like tombstones in a cemetery in which the men had marked the passing of each day of millennia of history. I was alone and walked with caution, with a devotion almost as if I were really in a cemetery. After almost two hours to visit, I had seen enough. I had read all the signs. I already knew everything ... I was repeatedly stopped to contemplate the view from a hand sweeps over the hills and the valley of the Tagliamento, the other controls the narrow valley dell'Arzino. I could start again, but I could not decide, also remained suspended my will ... It was as if I had not heard a voice, but speaking to me in, I forced him to remain, to walk among the stones yet, undecided about what to do.
was the rain that finally forced me to leave. Drops of a light mist was rising from the country, I turned away with a chill from my thoughts and I woke up from the charm of the place that brought me out of time ... course to reach the car, but instead I decided to enter shelter under the roof of the laboratory that is located next to the place where I parked. So, without thinking about it! ... Maybe just because I still wanted to look at the view of the valley, and between the threads of rain became almost fabulous and unreal ...
was a carpenter's workshop. A man, I think the owner or a worker, was putting in place some axes. He stopped in surprise at the intrusion, not planned ...
"Excuse me, I said to mo 'greeting. "It's raining!"
"I see," replied dry.
"I was entertained at the park!" I said as if to apologize.
"did you like?"
"Extraordinary!" I said and then always to justify the intrusion in his laboratory told him of my interest in the Celts, the research that I conducted. Seeing that I was following with interest, and would not stop raining, I let myself be carried away by the heat of discourse, and spoke to the idea that I had made on their religion founded on the coexistence of the world with that of the invisible visible.
At some point I stopped abruptly. "Look," he said "has long been looking for a person like her. I have a story to them ... It 's like a long time I wanted to confess, but could not find a priest up to assess my sins ... I've never talked to anyone , not to make fun of me, but from what I've just heard about his interests, I think she is the right person to whom I could trust ... "
took to say ...
I, like her a moment ago, I've always felt since the suggestion of a child Casteraimondo site. I live nearby, and the Castle Park has always been for me my public garden. When I did a little walk around the hill, at any time of day, and sometimes on moonlit nights, even at night ... Then came the university, the students arrived, I made friends with them, I have also helped in the research work. I've seen come to light the stones, the foundations of the houses ... When they decided to build the sheds to repair the ruins that were revealed, I have opposed ... I thought that those modern buildings would ruin the magic of places. I explained the need to repair the artifacts. I retorted the need not to upset the atmosphere the castle on the hill. Prevailed in the end the need to protect the relics, and they received the roofs for protection ... I did not like, but that does not stop me from continuing to attend the archaeological park of Castelraimondo. Until a couple of months ago ... then I have had the courage to set foot ...
"Why?" I interrupted.
"Why did that happen that I would like to tell and I never told anyone. If you want to hear me, and I promise not to get mad .... "
I seemed to hear the architect the novel of "The Celts come back", but I told him, assured him that even the presence of the Celts had already received so many witnesses, which led me to believe there was something mysterious and inexplicable ...
"Misterioso and inexplicable, "he repeated," just like what happened to me. " It began to tell ...
was an afternoon last August. He was approaching a storm threatening. Huge clouds blacks were lowered until it reaches the castle hill. It was certainly not the time to take a walk, yet I had come the desire to rise, as when you get the urge for a cigarette, in the most inopportune time ... "and I go away!" I said and began to climb almost ran down the path already completed, ready for the inauguration. I had just arrived near the remains of what had been recovered as the "home-sanctuary" of the Celts, when it began to rain as I had never seen, as if St. Peter had opened all of a sudden floodgates of heaven ... Against the light flashes could be seen as a large wire ropes of rain, thunder and entered the ground seemed to shake stones as there had been an earthquake. I riparai under the canopy that covers the remains the house. I was opposed to its construction, but I was the first to have an advantage ... In life you often have to take advantage of what has been achieved in spite of ourselves ... thunder, lightning and the deafening sound of rain on the roof ... I seemed to be finished in ... hell "sparrows" I thought, and instead grew darker, as if it was over the top of the hill inside a thick, black cloud.
"And here begins my story ..." continued my interlocutor, after a short break, making the gesture of wiping the sweat from his forehead. Continued ... all of a sudden I thought I saw a light coming out of the earth, from the center of the house, in the place where archaeologists say they have found the remains of the ceremony for laying the first stone. The light grew slowly as if it swells, and there appeared a person ... It was the light to be the person ... Dressed in white, with a long beard, facial features and age indefinite. I had no doubt: it was the image of a Druid, as I had seen in many books. I thought I would touch and I would die, as I had read in many legends. I wanted to escape, but could not move, as sometimes happens in dreams.
Maybe he read my mind and told me not moving, not to scare me. "This was my house!" Began to speak. And 'this is still my home, because I'm still here ... As yet I am still here eternity all who have lived here through the passage of time in history. We do not live in the dimension of eternity, you in that time. A time between the two dimensions you informed ... I was one of those who knew how to get out of the dimension of time to find myself with those who live in the dimension of eternity. tool that you have found the synx, (as stated in the illustration panel) was the instrument that allowed me to get in touch with the world without time. E 'capable of emitting the ultrasound to help the relationship with the other dimension with you ... Today, the opposite m'è successful, but I did not do to explain these things, you do not know what to believe anymore ... I'm back to dispel the doubts that some scholars have come to this house finding the bodies of stillborn babies. Nothing strange, it's a belief that six centuries has also developed in your religion: you thought that children could rise for a moment to receive encouragement for a happy eternity. Although we thought ... We thought that the dimension of eternity, the individual should have the memory of his having been in time. They took them to me, because I dessi loro la memoria della vita dei loro genitori, non potendo avere loro memoria d’una vita che non avevano vissuto…
Così mi ha detto e senza aspettare che io gli rivolgessi la parola, che gli facessi delle domande, che gli chiedessi delle spiegazioni, si è spento come un fuoco che cessa di ardere, e si è sciolto di nuovo nel centro della sua capanna…
Faceva già freddo in quella giornata piovosa di ottobre. Ma il falegname continuava a tergersi il sudore della fronte, attendendo un mio commento…
Non sapevo che cosa dirgli. Anch’io mi stavo chiedendo per quale strano gioco delle coincidenze, dovevano finire a me tutti questi racconti sui Celti. Perché invece che salire in macchina come sarebbe stato più logico, ero finito in questo laboratorio di falegname a sentire questo così originale e strano racconto?...
Se l’idea di quel racconto sui bambini nati morti fosse venuta a me, potevo darmi una spiegazione perché proprio in quei giorni stavo studiando la storia della Madonna di Trava di Lauco, ove la tradizione voleva che tornassero a rivivere i bambini nati morti, il tempo necessario per ricevere il battesimo. Ma il falegname mi confessò che non sapeva nulla della Madonna di Trava, e che non aveva capito a che cosa si riferisse the Druid when he spoke also of a belief in our religion ...
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