Naples is indescribable, one of those cities impossible to understand, at least I could never understand Naples. It's there, apparently revealing in its wonder or in its horror and a moment after has already changed, seems different. You never know if it's the most technological avant-garde in Italy or if it's a Middle Eastern casbah, if it's the door to the New World or to Africa, sometimes I think that Naples is an artistic illusion. I think to the black sea, not because of dirt, the translucent black that can be found crystallized in the Lipari's obsidian or, obviously, between the waves dancing in front of the Vesuvio in a particular day, as if there were ordinary days in that city. I do not love Naples, I admit it, and I don't hate it, I just can't understand it and I won't probably ever understand it. But, side by side with the Eduardo's books, it winks, from my closet, in the shape of a button on a jacket or of a small stylized turtle that apparently wants to walk and run. The small icon is obviously the symbol of Carpisa, a society that started to produce suitcases and purses, likeable, with a simple and fashionable style at a reasonable price. The society was born under the shade of the Vesuvio and in a few years could generate very good revenues and obviously to build a factory a l'avant-garde, with nursey, internal gym and facilities that are probably to be found in the Silicon Valley or in some Northern European country. I will never understand Napoli.
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