There is a brusque eroticism in her words, an obscurity at times scandalous, derisive and feverish that blends with grief and wailing and repetition and tears and irony. There is the guilt of orphans and survivors; there is pain, and the forgiveness inflicted on oneself for having also screamed it once, abusing the dolphin-voice which torments so devoutly. There is an intermittent dialogue as child-sister-thoughtful lover with heaven, the contradiction of one who wishes to comprehend her faith with every cell of her body.
And last, there is all the tenderness of an immaculate mother, who knows she has fulfilled her duty because every pain has been consigned to the altar of the word to find its way, “expanded within its core”, to the body of the child.

Maria Grazia Calandrone