Imaginad: Londres, 2027. Michael Caine abre una lata de aceitunas y exclama "¡Italia!". Un gesto, una palabra, un sentimiento (la distancia), casi 50 años despues que contempláramos la apertura de esa misma lata por primera vez.
"It was cold in the street and I crossed to the lighted blaze of the shops in Rue Fuad. In a grocer's window I saw a small tin of olives with the name Orvieto on it, and overcome by a sudden longing to be on the right side of the Mediterranean, entered the shop: bought it: had it opened there and then: and sitting down at a marble table in that gruesome light I began to eat Italy, its dark scorched flesh, hand-modelled spring soil, dedicated vines. I felt that Melissa would never understand this. I should have to pretend I had lost the money"
Lawrence Durrell - "The Alexandria Quartet"
Y es que no importa la tierra que hayamos dejado atrás, sino la distancia infinita que nos separa de la orilla correcta.
