We have been robbed of our Landscape
As unexpected as surprising, we have robbed of our landscape. We had to leave our streets, parks and mountains. Nobody can enjoy the woods anymore, the smell of flowers, nobody appreciates the yellow, white and red flowers of the roundabouts; nobody walks in the meadows anymore and footballs no longer hit the bushes in the squares. The green and flowery boulevard fades into the horizon of a desolate beach.
Grey streets cover every inch of the city; melancholy fills the evening with the painful bitterness of uncertainty and, every now and then, someone crosses the street half hidden and unsafe.
We look at the landscape from our balconies and windows; we come closer every morning looking for a ray of sunshine, or to feel a breeze or a few drops of rain on our faces; in the distance we hear the heartbeats of the landscape through birdsongs telling us that nature is there.
We have never understood how vital nature is to our lives; the harshness of confinement shows us that the peacefulness and freshness of the grove; of the feverish river is a haven for all. For such complex, disparate cities we live in.
Ah if I could choose my landscape
I would choose, I would rob this street,
this freshly dusked street
where I fiercely revive
and which I know with strict nostalgia
the number and name of your seventy trees.
(Choosing my landscape, Mario Benedetti 1920-2009)
It is true that sooner or later we will regain our freedom and return to our landscapes and common places. Embracing them with impetus, happiness and, of course, relief after the storm.
On returning to the landscape, it is unavoidable to rethink the ways in which we relate to nature, we have lived in a feverish landscape. We have turned our backs on it with unusual arrogance .
The fate of our landscapes deserves a kind glance, recognizing that we have not been, in our imagination, victims but captors of a sick nature. The mistreated landscape, abandoned to its fate, has firmly demanded a few minutes of attention.
It has gathered us at the moment of truth, without suspicion of our fragility, without choice and possible doubt; where all actions are uncertain the landscape opens up, in silence the bosom of nature, towards a change without nuances and, even less, without hesitation of oneself .
"If you want to change the world, start by changing yourself first ".
(M. Ghandi, 1869 - 1948)
After all, we will shut the doors of the past learning that landscapes have a soul, the roots of the future are woven into our hands; longing not to be imprisoned again contemplating sunsets from the window; where everything is erased, everything disappears into the foliage of the trees .