THESE Sleepless nights
Nastassia bends down and, lifting his long nightgown of heavy linen, keep the small bare feet resting on the installation of wood. They are purple and cold, so cold. Point your weight on your heels and raises his long fingers, a few chilblain already glimpsed.
front of the fireplace in the kitchen are very stretched, tied on a wire stretched between two chairs, four pairs of stockings of rough wool. But they are still wet and Nastassia has bare feet.
still unable to organize itself in the laundry, makes it difficult to calculate the amount of clothes to wash each time and the time between washing, drying and ironing.
and why her feet are cold that night. Rather cold. We must also consider that his Bartùlu after the sunset, I'm not made of wood logs in the fireplace, that slowly turns off leaving a few embers reddish gray fine powder and now cold.
you pick up before it turns off all the fire, those embers of burning coal and puts them in the grate of copper near the center of the bedroom.
Nastassia rubs her arms looking a bit 'of warmth and look up on the bed. The fat comes the sound, clocked by a more intermittent wheezing acute, the snoring of his Bartùlu.
It promises another almost sleepless night, thinking, and puts his foot on the first rung of the ladder. Look up and held firmly with your hands. That operation will always put the apprehension every night. Indeed, twice a day. In the morning when he has to wash up the bed and in the evening when going to sleep.
suffer from vertigo since Nastassia is small. I still remember very well when the children of the country, evading the supervision of the old sexton Peppineddu, they went up the bell tower stealth. She only came to the first ramp, while a strange anxiety took it, he could not get past the first landing. It was always the first to be taken by the other Peppineddu quickest already sounded the bell chimes out of tune.
His bed is a real gentlemen, it built its model on a continental Bartùlu seen an old print Ittiri come down to who knows where and by who knows who hangs on a crumbling old wall of the tavern of the post exchange .
and a high canopy bed wood that touches the low ceiling of wooden beams. Bartùlu wanted the shelf that houses the three top mattress was lifted from the floor to protect his bride from the cold that comes off the floor and from mice that roam undisturbed overnight.
Nastassia Bartùlu not know that knows him because he said the old Mariedda, the fear he felt as a child when he was accidentally locked overnight inside the large warehouse behind the mill. They had found that even at dawn jumping from one leg to another as pale as a sheet.
The lineup has willed her because he thought that bed, the very first time, insurmountable. Minuta, without strength in thin arms, had not had the agility to jump on the first night that the bride entered the large room. Bartùlu knew right away that might have been the case to build a small lineup for his little bride.
Nastassia slowly climb the narrow stairs and cold feet and complain a bit thin 'at every step. In short it is a colossal undertaking to climb up there every night. Then she hurt her back in the evening because it is still not used to doing the housework. Bartùlu had promised before the wedding the help of a servant, but, one year after the marriage, had not seen even the shadow.
Every night climbing the ladder admires the tissues that cover the high canopy and mattress. It 's the pride of his wife that blaze of yarn and embroidery. When the women come to visit her or her friends always leaves the door open for you to glimpse the seeds of his masterpieces.
He worked hard for months to transform the bare wood and the skeletal framework in a warm and cozy alcove. If there must be at least nice, shy bride said with bowed head and eyes half closed as soon as she saw while she was undressed by Bartùlu wedding dresses.
He immediately thought of the large canvases that would cover the canopy. They would be sewn together pieces of light pink tulle in the meantime she had stitched lapels in full view, and finished with a lace fringe and picots crocheted. She had copied a specific plan, she also liked to improvise. They were geometric patterns which followed a random order a bit 'random. Finally he found work that he had a chaotic harmony.
To cover the wooden bench had instead used a thick cloth woven with hemp too rosy rising grounds of daffodils and peacocks dealt with a deep pink. The first was the mattress covered with a white linen fabric patterned tone on tone knots that followed a diamond pattern alternating convex and concave. It was a demanding task to be able to count to the frame plot to plot, warp to warp and not even miss a step.
The second was the mattress covered with a wool carpet colored red, yellow and bright blue on a light background. Men and women holding hands in a round dance that would not be finished ever. And here Nastassia sighed thinking that his Bartùlu the only dance he had done in his life was the day of their marriage when he was taken by force by the ring of cronies. He would never danced Bartùlu. But even Natassia.
The third and last mattress was still covered by a black heavy woolen blanket. The beautiful crocheted blanket file was still locked in the trunk and had not yet been completed. Nastassia but managing to get a lot of hours to complete his work stealing the housekeeping and cooking. Bartùlu if they had complained several times, especially when returning from the mill in the evening tired and hungry and the dinner table was empty, but the young wife to the frame.
To complete the work was the fine linen of his rich collection. The sheets and pillowcases had four richly embroidered with hemstitches and satin stitches and chain. Flowers, leafs and light foliage along the edges turned and headed for the half, while thin and delicate lace pillow made it adorned the edges. 
Painting by Joseph Blasi of the series of paintings Ittiri
Photo Giammario Demartis
Bartùlu sleeps great. The open mouth now emanates a gurgle as the water passing through pipelines that operate in the millstone. No, you are not just accustomed to changing the sounds that accompany the passing of his nights. Slips slowly inside the sheets cold, even icy. He curled up for warmth with the little heat that radiates her body. Bartùlu no, do not touch him, and his body is hot but it is moist and gives off a smell that smells of flour and soot, not even the lavender which puts him inside the pillow helps smooth.
And while he thinks this, get a whiff of his bad breath. The notes to the flickering light of oil lamps. Will the time to accept that this man was imposed as a husband? Do you think it will be difficult to recognize this man twenty years older than her as the man of her life. Turns away hand and covers his ears with the pillow pillowcase and sinks in fragrant nose.
Oh, no! He left the oil lamp lit on the table. Bartùlu If you wake up at this time would be a rebuke that would last for days. It must descend, retrace the journey undertaken. As it's foolish, it turns out and put the feet on the narrow steps of the ladder. He approaches the table and watching the flame blows on the wick. The lamp turns off suddenly. And now? Traces the way groping, hit the chair falling. Bartùlu sends a puff as the pot when boiling with mutton inside. Thump on the steps, know that the morning will end up with purple bruises on her legs. Ascent settles in the ice sheets, crouches close close hugging his knees. How stupid, poor Bartùlu to have a wife so incapable. Poor thing.
Bartùlu Now the snoring has become a meow. And no, she'll never get used. How nice it would be to marry Gavin, the young servant shepherd of his family. But his parents soon sensed the romance had taken care to combine in a hurry the marriage that would have brought honor and dignity to their beloved child. And here she is with her Bartùlu side in this high and royal bed, designed for the most passionate and loving encounters that they love rather colorless and icy nights, think Nastassia ashamed of his fantasies when her heart formula. And it turns out to watch her Bartùlu: big nose and red crisscrossed by a myriad of small capillaries, the bristling beard and always unkempt, yellowish teeth and rotten.
But how do you see it? Oh no! Forgot still on the brazier in the middle of the room! But that is foolish! What a fatuous woman! This is what happens to get lost in such sinful fantasies!
falls fast and takes the pot. Never leave the room all night. The air becomes foul and dangerous. They may even die.
already dying. But it's just a quick thought. Fleeting light passes as it arrived. Tarlo invisible sometimes s'insinua nei suoi pensieri. Lei o lui non importa, sarebbe comunque un cambiamento.
Si dirige in cucina e posa il braciere dentro il camino, lo svuoterà al mattino. C'è tempo. Per tutto, c'è tempo.
© Pia Deidda 2010
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