Meeting Luisa At The Bank

“Crocicchio” by Ardengo Soffici is a poem written in the era of the historic avant-garde in which Italy was facing a technological revolution; railways, cars and trams were all being transformed and as such the country saw a rise in the Italian Futurist movement. This movement praised all things modern by exploring new forms and technologies, treating them as a spectacle to be revered. The influence of these futuristic ideologies is clear in Crocicchio as Soffici paints a series of pictures of city life characterised by the chaos and activity which he experiences in his passing.

I would always take walks after fights with my family, and it’s not as if I was going to change that in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. I left our hotel, the Bauer Palazzo, stepping onto the Calle Tredici Martiri. One of the things I loved about Venice were the names of the streets and canals. I didn’t understand the meaning, nor was I able to pronounce it with ease, but when I heard them spoken my heart melted. People said that French is the language of love, but Italian is infinitely times more beautiful. We were booked to leave Venice for Marseille tomorrow, but I refused. That’s what lead to this fight with my parents. They didn’t like being in Italy. They grew up in Milan, but they left as soon as they were able to. The

“Why does the mailbox have to be so far?” Zuri thinks to herself as she turns the corner of North Broadview Avenue and Red Wood Road. As she rounds the corner she looks up only in time to see a white Lincoln town car barreling towards her and barely manages to jump backwards as it screeches to a stop right where she had been standing a few second ago. A tall, young black man hops out of the car and walks over to Zuri asking “Are you all right?” as he reaches out his hand to help her up. “Yeah I think so.” She replies as she gets up and dust herself off and looks around for her keys. “What you looking for?” the young man asks. “My keys I lost them when I jumped out of the way” she tells the young man as she continues to search for the keys.

He steps onto the semicircular veranda, walks from one end to the other, then returns to the entry. He fumbles with the key in the lock, and thinks he should have done this while Pete was still here... 'Well if it doesn't work I'll break a window and fix it later... The place is mine now.'

Alessandro Rago gazed off into the horizon, on his rural farm in the mountains of southern Italy, which had been untouched by the new industrious technologies. These changes had not yet climbed their way into these treacherous mountains, a season of failed crops would likely kill off many of the village, for the people were already impoverish. However, there was hope of a new life, a land of unknown, but growing opportunity, America. Alessandro moved to Chicago, where he made a new life for himself and his family. Starting with a farmer looking for a chance in the new world, the generations that have come before me have shaped a family history that I can be proud of continuing.

Salvatore “Buddy” Scotto, a young funeral home owner, was the son of Italian immigrants who had lived in the neighborhood his entire life and tried to get his parents to move with him out to the suburbs just as many of their friends were doing at the time. When his parents refused, claiming a distrust of suburban non-Italian whites, Scotto took matters into his own hands and decided to build up the neighborhood so his neighbors and friends would prefer to stay (Osman,

“I’ll try to get in first,” he explained. “I’m on good terms with some of the residents here.” He knocked on the door a few times, and then began to call. “Dodi? Graverobber? Tessa? Anyone?”

The two walked for a little while longer until they reached her house. Clarisse saw her aunts and uncles together chatting it up in the parlor. She then left Montag at the front of the lawn and ran up to her door. Reaching the knob, with her fingers ever so slightly grazing the metal she remembered something. With a slight twist of her hair, she turned to look at him curiously, "Are you

Chiette, Abruzi is not a well known city in Italy. They are not known for high fashion, incredible architecture, or any significant historical events. The city’s main source of income is derived from the seafood industry, and their closeness to the coast has driven their economy forward in past decades. My grandmother’s parents, Carmella and Carmissio, were active in the shipyards. Carmissio harvested the oceanic crops and Carmella brought the boys at the yard pizzelles (thin, buttery crackers) each afternoon. Life in Chiette had never been easy and moving up in society was a difficult task for even the luckiest of sorts. My great

Two weeks after arriving in Florence, while walking home from dinner across the river, stumbled upon Piazza della Signoria, for the first time. With the sound of a street performer’s violin in the crisp night air, I sat on the edge of the open-air gallery of statues. I still do not know why the piazza affected me the way it did, but with tears in my eyes, I knew I had found a place in Florence where I could be bitter sweetly happy.

	The tragedy is not Antonio's previous two years of unemployment- it is that he has no future in his new job, due to the theft of his bike. Antonio must face this tragedy with no public support other than his friend Baiocco. Baiocco's willingness to help with his friends and his optimistic response to Maria constitute another case of human optimism. This form of optimism pervades the film with Antonio's perseverance and determination to find the stolen bike. These events stimulate the viewer's mind to think of solutions related to Antonio's situation, perhaps to try to solve problems of post-war Italy such as crime, famine, health issues, living condition, etc.; ills that have affected society then and now around the globe.

I agree that Luisa is having a normal reactions to the event that occurred and all her emotions would be common for anyone who went through a similar situation. I like that you addressed her children and how they were unable to comfort her. It does make me wonder why she didn't get closer to her children since they are all she has left. You made a good point of how she was left with a loss of meaning and emptiness. I also agree that I am a spiritual person and after experiencing a tragic experience I would too question God and why he allowed this to happen. Since she is so worried about her emotions who is worrying about the children's state of mind?

On a Saturday night in August, Giuseppi Cavelli, his wife Julietta, and their children gather with family to have a feast celebrating Giuseppe’s birthday. The women had worked hard preparing a menu including hard bread loaves, pasta, cheeses, fruit, and wine. On occasion, they have fowl or venison, but the last few months, these are not plentiful. They gathered in the home of Giuseppi’s father in the Castello district close to the shipyards . Giuseppi and his father Arturo are master shipbuilders. As a young man, Arturo fought in the last war against the Genoese. He received a leg injury that ended his military career. Now, at age 84, he oversees the building of gondolas. The father and son team build plain boats for the general public and very ornate ones for aristocrats. They built a spectacular one for the Doge last year. It had gold lanterns and a silk canopy. The Cavellis are upper popolani class citizens and they take

Our next stop was Colosseum, where our driver Enriqo dropped us off. As we walked up the faded, brown steps, the smell of dirt hit me. People walked back and forth wondering if they get a better view, the dismantled artifacts below will somehow change. The grass below was musty brown, with a hint of faded green as if it was trying to stay alive. Outside near the Colosseum, Enriqo tells us that the Arch of Constantine stands as a historic reminder of Emperor Constantine 's defeat over Tyrant Maxentius. Back at the hotel, we had dinner on the roof overlooking a view of the ancient Vatican. The bartender soon realized that my mom and me were Filipino and delivered cocktails free of charge. I had my first alcoholic drink with my mom on the rooftop of my hotel, overlooking the Vatican. By this time the sun was setting, and the sky was a dark, ocean blue, fading into a sea of apricot orange.

i Suoi Fratelli, the journey of one Southern Italian family as they migrate to the North