Sublime

synecdoche

La nave colombiana è rossa di colore e se ne sta lì intatta, attraccata e cigolante, a sorvegliare sorniona l’affanno della vita. E l’affanno della vita non è una frase ad effetto, ma la realtà: poche sagome umane che parlottano, qualcuno che finge di scaricare merci, maneggi che pure in controluce lo capisci.

The sea was always heaving things up and hurling them back: fishing lines, floats, beer cans, plastic toys, tampons, Nike sneakers. A few years earlier it was severed feet. People were finding them up and down Vancouver Island, washed up on the sand. One had been found on this very beach.

stevedores

This is a case of what we will call metonymy. Here

“I saw on the news last week that so far this year twelve new nations and sovereign states have come into being in Europe alone.” “And most of them won’t be here this time next year,” said Rudi. “You see?” Dariusz pointed triumphantly at him. “You do have an opinion! I knew you would!” Rudi sighed. “I only know what I see on the news.” “I see Europ

palazzo su Regeringsgatan. Le impalcature con i teloni di nylon bianco sporco nascondono

The plastic siding of the main building was peeled away like scales torn from a dead fish.

Maragall said, ‘There is the shutter they carry their dead suspects on, behind the door.’ ‘Joan,’ said Stephen to him, ‘all the papers that matter are in the press to the right of the table.’ Gently, gently down through the open streets, Stephen staring up at the stars and the clean air reaching deep into his lungs. Dead streets, with one single fi