P.P.Pasolini 100 years

"Close the shutters, step away from the window, light the lamp, lean over a white sheet of paper. Alone. Hear the song of the cricket far away in the field, alone, sitting in a Roman apartment.... Then my father's voice, - fear, my mother's gentle hand - a young swallow touched my temple with a wing. My antique youth is covered by the heavy sticky sweat of maturity. I was born 100 years ago. My guest, take a flashlight, shine in the dark, take your time, from all that you see, put together your puzzle neatly. He is 100 years old today. My soul, my body, my conscience is 100 years old today. And it's all here on the canvases, in their voices - The canvases speak, bleed, sing and shout. Is this my cry? Am I alive?"