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“That night a resplendent sun lit up the sky; his deep, intense look entered her and became part of her, forever. He had all the southern seas in his eyes. They were dark and deep as the ocean”. She is Yuki, twenty years old, the sun in her honey-coloured locks. She studies photography at University and works part-time for an agency. She is called to cover an event: the concert of a rock star. He is Ren, forty years old and his star is at the beginning of a descending curve. Behind his back a failed marriage and a teenage son. Their meeting is marked by a mysterious destiny...
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2013
Francesca Bani
Rockstar. Made in Japan
“That night a resplendent sun lit up the sky; his deep, intense look entered her and became part of her, forever. He had all the southern seas in his eyes. They were dark and deep as the ocean”.
She is Yuki, twenty years old, the sun in her honey-coloured locks. She studies photography at University and works part-time for an agency. She is called to cover an event: the concert of a rock star.
He is Ren, forty years old and his star is at the beginning of a descending curve. Behind his back a failed marriage and a teenage son.
Their meeting is marked by a mysterious destiny...
Francesca Bani was born in Tuscany in 1973. She works as a journalist, writing about politics and cinema. For Alpha Fantasy - Edizioni della Meridiana she has published the first two books of a children’s series: Sibilla e la piuma dorata (Sibilla and the Golden Feather) (2009) and Sibilla e il mondo perduto (Sibilla and the Lost World) (2010). She made her debut in adult fiction with Il pianto dei ciliegi. Un amore a Tōkyō (The Weeping of the Cherry Trees. Love in Tōkyō) published in 2011 in this same collection. Rockstar. Made in Japan (2013) is her first novel translated into English.
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Rockstar
Made in Japan
RockstarMade in Japan
A chi come me è sospeso tra Oriente e Occidente…
“nao mitashi
hana ni akeyuku
kami no kao”
[Basho¯]
“ancora, vorrei vedere
tra i fiori dell’alba, vagare
il volto del dio”
* * *
“kago no tori
cho¯ wo urayamu
metsuki kana”
[Issa]
“l’uccello in gabbia
osserva invidioso,
la farfalla”
* * *
“gekko¯ ni
miyuki no kizu no
kakure nashi”
[Bo¯sha]
“nel chiarore lunare,
la neve densa
non cela le ferite”
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Rockstar
Made in Japan
Her white dress shimmered in the calm, clear light of dawn; her long gold- brown hair fluttered softly in the air. The small naked feet, drawn up together on the narrow ledge, lifted for a moment, then the girl took flight - a snow-white flower blossoming out of season.
The enormous bustling city lay beneath her in the mist of an August morning. In the distance Tōkyō Bay and the ocean that cut deeply into the coastline. The Rainbow Bridge and the skyline of Odaiba, the artificial island, with its skyscrapers and shoppingcentres, the glittering suspended sphere of Fuji Television, created by Kenzō Tange, and the Ferris wheel. Further still, Mount Fuji, old and lonely, watching over the fate of the men and women to him entrusted. A crown of white clouds surrounded its peak. Lower down, under the perforated orange metal feet of the Tōkyō Tower, a cemetery. In among the green of the trees a row of graves. A little further on, a pool where a handful of determined students were training.
A heartbeat, and on the tip of the steel tower all that remained of her was a pair of tiny pink slippers and a delicate trail of perfume carried away by the wind.
