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“It was a long time” is the first novel by Maurizio Costacurta. The story was published first in Italy in 2012.It’s the history about Barbara Greco and Graziano Farni love story and about the Nassiriyah Heroes Memorial in Rome. It’s located in Genoa, Bergamo, Rome and Paris.Maurizio has written four histories in one: the one of the architect, the one of the man, the one of the patriot pacifist, that of the historian of the music (S.M.R.)
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016
IT WAS A LONG TIME
TO MY SONS, JENNIFER AND MASSIMILIANO
I ALWAYS TELL THE TRUTH EVEN IT MEANS LYING
(ENRICO VAIME)
Translation by Margareth Griffith and Maurizio Costacurta
February, 14th
It was a long time since I've last seen her.
When I met Barbara, that Tuesday in February, in the waiting room of one Town-hall Office, where I spent at least two mornings a week. I had to submit a preliminary draft for a development plan, great on proposals to develop and investment.
I had appointed this gentleman, because for the choice he had to decide between outsource to me or a colleague. He chose to work with me because he had worked with the other one: not knowing me, he preferred to risk with me that to play with my contender. He had no doubts. He called me and we arranged a meeting. The first thing I asked him was why the selection and he explained why: he was sure he ran less risk by relying on those who did not know.
The project is large, prestigious, feasible in the medium term, political and bureaucratic permitting.
Technical and professional, with my engineering company, we are up to the task and I got that I could take care of the engineering of the entire project, which is company's core business.
That morning, I had an appointment with Rosanna Campana, an executive of the Service that deals with these things. We had worked together in the studio of Genova of a Milanese architect, with offices in Genova and Milan.
After working for a company in Milan, for almost three years, in Naples, I went to work in the study of the architect Venanzio Guidi, a Milanese, great manager. He was superstitious to the point that when he had to catch a plane to upset the hoped "good trip, Architect" and he went hungry. He was divorced and his second wife had so much pomposity that when she left the studio, she was always waiting at the door for someone to open it to her.
Rosanna, after the owner, in the studio, was the second one, after a colleague, Amalia, good, professional, centralized, despotic and hateful. She was unpleasant to everyone but herself, rather she made it unpleasant to feel stronger.
Rosanna is completely on another site: now as then, a simple woman, no makeup, radiant, always calm, kind, courteous, never a tone of voice over the top.
And there I have fallen completely in love with her.
I had my job, I developed a couple of projects for intervention in Algeria on behalf of a public company and Rosanna did her job, that we didn't go one over the other. For that work I asked Amalia the help of a hear friend, Roberta, whom I had met in the first year of university.
The owner of the studio, Venanzio Guidi, was commissioned for the project of a prison for the recovery of individuals not included at all in community. Rosanna took over control of the project, Amalia was maintaining relations with clients. I entrusted New Joints and Direction departments.
It was a new thing (how many people design a jail?), with a lot of rules for internal security that affect the design, both for the architecture for both structures.
In the projects I designed the facades with the clouds, which was absolutely new (it was the '80s) and that in the study no one had imagined. To put things right, Amalia had said they were ridiculous, for Guidi they went very well. Amalia was foaming. This time the applause was louder, but I am convinced that it was also for Guidi.
Rosanna made the rounds of the tables twice a day. And mine one was always the last one, because it was the closest to the door of the studio where he worked.
I left the stool and discussed on the boards that were on the drawing board and on the stand, to see where we were and to decide how to move forward.
After three years of collaboration with the studio and in the midst of a crush on Rosanna, who had neither the present nor the future, I have gone.
To stay with Rosanna, simple and charming, I liked it, I did everything to stay as far as possible with her. One evening, one of those who passed in the office after dinner, to meet deadlines, late into the night, I took her home, on the heights of Genoa. A place so out of hand, even in the city, I asked her what kind of eagle she took to come to the office.
