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“Rummaging in our souls, we often dig up something that ought to have lain there unnoticed" ---Lev Tolstoj

Tiziana Rinaldi Castro.jpg

Sono originaria di Sala Consilina (SA), luogo che nei 36 anni vissuti in America, è diventato mitica Itaca, marqueziano Macondo, calviniana Città Invisibile e teatro del perpetuo ritorno non ritorno. In definitiva uno dei due punti -l'altro è New York, dove abito con mio marito e dove sono cresciute le mie figlie-  da cui mi collego con più mondi immaginari. 

Si scrive di ciò che si conosce.  Nel mio caso, la metafora del viaggio sottende a tutti i miei  lavori: lontananza, assenza, ritorno, l'incontro con diverse culture, e in definitiva, il percorso verso il riconoscimento del sé nel mondo altro da sé. 

I was born across the ocean, on the Mediterranean sea, not far from Naples, in Southern Italy. Growing up in a small town deep in  a valley surrounded by mountains, I learned to imagine the world beyond those borders. Life became immense in my imagination, and the world infinite. Every choice made as I became an adult, was therefore informed of the fabric of distance, its essence a moving horizon, measureless. 
The comets I followed were music and the written word, which had been the major source of nourishment while growing up. I was in love with John Coltrane, Jimi Hendrix, Bob Dylan, Hemingway, Steinbeck, Melville, and especially Walt Whitman, all of whom caused me to fall in love with America and the discipline of writing. 
So I came: New York, Colorado, New York again. And I am still "journeying".

This has modified the acquired meaning of concepts such as home  and return, giving an almost measurable weight to the conditions of pining and nostalgia- looking back as well as forward- a motion that clarifies the origin of the word traveling- from old French travailler - hard , strenous labor. An adventurous discipline, as writing, music making, and praying are. An act of constant creation.  

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