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/ little Easter /

50 km east of Naples, in a very small village in the mountain, lives Pasqualina,
an 87-year-old lady, whose name can be translated as little Easter.

Here, in this corner of the earth, nothing ever happens.

The rituals of small-daily-household-appointments punctuate the time passing, slowly and sly.

The silence of loneliness suggests a resigned sense of abandonment while waiting for the end.


Yet, the dining room, which once hosted the big family Easter lunches, remains unchanged.

Pictures of her as a young woman now share the silver frame

with those of her grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and those who are no longer with us.

The liquor cart is filled with offerings, and the tray overflows with candies for the little ones.

No one will never come here, but she will continue to wait for another little Easter to happen again.


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