Anthropology has destroyed and created identities, Nizhny Novgorod Russia often only as a rhetorical exercise. Often unconsciously, by reference to the good old days: more often than not, claustrophobic and narrow-minded, closed, identities. The problem isn’t invention—new cultures are always the result of continuous and problematic construction—Nizhny Novgorod Russia but the how and why of invention: for what purpose, what project, with what passion, with what love for the world in which we live and work. The founding figures of Nizhny Novgorod Russia the new folklore often didn’t fully understand the old. They confused the old with the new by stoking the fires of regret, by imagining an authenticity and immutability Nizhny Novgorod Russia that didn’t exist. Tradition is transmission, invention, “betrayal,” but to be able to betray it you have to have lived it. Nostalgia on behalf of third parties is unpleasant.
Where is Nizhny Novgorod Russia? – Nizhny Novgorod Russia Map – Map of Nizhny Novgorod Russia Photo Gallery
Turi looks out from the balcony where thirty years ago he had waited for the truck with the dead Carnival, but he is a different Turi. He has changed. The village has changed. The Carnival has changed. The masks have changed. The world has changed. Turi performs a new farce that follows traditional rules, that still speaks of food and hunger, but is linked to the political reality of today.
Certo fu la morte tua Chi mi deze l’occasione
Pè mu tornu allu paisi Pè mu assistu alli funzione Mu ti lodu e mu ti ciangiu Mu ti assistu all’agonia Preparatimi mu mangiu Ca su chinu d’animia. Preparatimi ‘nu porco Quattru sacchi de ruttami Trenta poste de satizzi Trenta poste de salami ‘Na frittata de cent’ova ‘N’ottantina de ricotte E ‘n braccetto accantu a mia Berlinguer e Andreotti. Quandu ‘nchiani ‘n Paradisu Prega tu Carnelevari Pe’ mu fannu na riforma Mu ni caccianu li corna Pe’ mu vascianu liprezzi Pe’ mu ‘nchiana la pensione Domus mea, domus mea Mu ni passa la diarrea.
His voice rises into the sky, his gaze hides his pain, laughter seems to collapse time and bring everything closer. Turi is overcome with deep feeling as he listens, laughs, and looks around. Carnival isn’t dead, he thinks; the village isn’t dead, he thinks. Perhaps I can return, he thinks.
As soon as he settled back in the village, Turi started dreaming up projects, theatre companies. He made a gift of his travel blogs to the ARCI association to encourage young people to read. Carnival is still celebrated. Vincenzo Iozzo, Vince de Lucia, born in 1947 and emigrated to Canada in the 1960s, returns in the 1970s and becomes, with the help of the young people from ARCI, the driving force behind the carnival. A hairdresser by trade, he composes words and music in a popular style that will become songs of protest, of emigration, of condemnation that young people perform in serenades and during the festival of emigration. The climate of renewal and confidence, however, begins to lose steam. People, once again, start to leave and the village begins to fade.
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