Rummaging in a box at a flea market to raise funds for cooperatives working in the land confiscated from the mafia, I found this book that immediately attracted my curiosity, and in view of the pilgrimage for which I am about to leave, both for it looks "old." It is in fact a volume of 1943, with the pages yellowed and worn by time and contains a signature and a date in sottocopertina. I can not decipher the signature but the writing seems of another era. So I began to imagine that this person is dead and his heirs have decided to dispose of his library. Maybe instead of the owner (or owner) was fond of this book, so that we pasted after the preface to an article in 1996 in the Republic of San Francesco. Continuing with my fantasies, I bought it thinking that maybe I would be happy to know that instead of ending up as pulp, the volume has fallen into the hands of someone who has read it and keep it with care.
de Reading The Little Flowers of St. Francis was not exciting but I found them non privi di fascino, anche solo per il loro italiano arcaico, per i curiosi nomi dei luoghi (Ascesi per Assisi, Agubbio per Gubbio, ecc.) e per il pathos un po' ingenuo con cui sono narrate le vicende del santo e dei suoi seguaci.
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