Dialogue
Work has been for me part of the natural flow of life, like life itself.
The motivations have been subjected, naturally, day by day, to the events
of my daily life. And if I think, here on the threshold of sixty, about the
profound transformations which I have witnessed (and participated in),
this seems quite evident.
Brought up and educated between the two wars: I underscore
the word "educated" since at a tender age I was put in a critical
position with respect to the currents of those years, where some aspects
have remained fundamental for me (such as the dignity of free individuals,
the horror of violence and war, corruption, for example). And then,
immersed in a reality of banality and errors (of evaluation, of choices...),
I shared the hope for a universal El Dorado in the future.
I had positive and negative experiences. I fought unarmed against the armed.
As for the critical text that best describes me, I couldn't say.
I could say that everything written about me has made a contribution:
from the most accommodating or flattering to the most acrimonious,
but above all the most critical, even if at times only partially
interlocutory. The most painful were the things unwritten,
the silence, the absence of dialogue, of exchange and movement of ideas.
