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napuleh · 3 months

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Se interrogate uno storico, o buoni ed amabili lettori, vi risponderà che la tomba della bella Parthenope è sull’altura di San Giovanni Maggiore, dove allora il mare lambiva il piede della montagnola. Un altro vi dirà che la tomba di Parthenope è sull’altura di Sant’Aniello, verso la campagna, sotto Capodimonte. Ebbene, io vi dico che non è vero. Parthenope non ha tomba, Parthenope non è morta. Ella vive, splendida, giovane e bella, da cinquemila anni. Ella corre ancora sui poggi, ella erra sulla spiaggia, ella si affaccia al vulcano, ella si smarrisce nelle vallate. È lei che rende la nostra città ebbra di luce e folle di colori: è lei che fa brillare le stelle nelle notti serene; è lei che rende irresistibile il profumo dell’arancio; è lei che fa fosforeggiare il mare.

"If you ask a historian, or good and amiable readers, he will answer that the tomb of the beautiful Parthenope is on the hill of San Giovanni Maggiore, where at that time the sea lapped the foot of the mountain. Another will tell you that Parthenope's tomb is on the hill of Sant'Aniello, towards the countryside, below Capodimonte.

Well, I tell you that is not true. Parthenope has no grave, Parthenope is not dead. She has lived, splendid, young and beautiful, for five thousand years. She still runs on the hillocks, she wanders on the beach, she looks out over the volcano, she gets lost in the valleys. It is she who makes our city intoxicated with light and mad with colors: it is she who makes the stars shine on clear nights; it is she who makes the scent of orange irresistible; it is she who makes the sea phosphorize."

#leggende napoletane #+ google translate #lol #mina vagante 🌋#vin & a literal siren? mother. slay.

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napuleh · 3 months

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#mina vagante 🌋#vin and antonio rn

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napuleh · 3 months

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I Show Up Twelve Years Late For Curfew, Karyna McGlynn

I appear cold, muddy, unstable in the foyer. My parents are polite, but stiff, like a French host family.

They have new children, who have new toys which make intergalactic noises in the night.

Their eyes are brown with gold flecks, not like mine.

They either can't remember things or don't care that I hate tomatoes. Over dinner, my mother asks my middle name. When I tell her, she says "oh, yes?"

Trying to feel relevant now is a bit like touching my own mouth shot full of anesthetic, or forming the word "bouche" while drunk.

I survey the unnatural ocean of their new blue carpet and try not to chew like a starving person.

This is my family, these people so inept at things like memory and monopoly, I feel like a trickster god hiding my funny-money under the board.

#mina vagante 🌋#he identifies with this in several ways #but especially in a trans way #also in a north 🆚 south way #ugh here comes another ficlet

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napuleh · 3 months

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#mina vagante 🌋#mina vagante 🌋#Spotify

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napuleh · 3 months

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For the first time in a long time, Vincenzo Maria Esposito is taking a long, drawn out drag from a cigarette, resting his head back against brick that way too many people have touched up on, ew, and slumping his shoulders down upon exhaling. It feels like his brain is getting itched (in a good way), but he’s looking at the damn thing like it’s going to jump up and bite him, turning it up and over and sideways to observe it.

“I’m going to have to change out of my clothing. Nefele is going to pitch a fit if I walk in smelling like tobacco,” he murmured, to no one in particular, hoping the wind would carry away the worst of the smell.

“I can’t tell yet because she’s only five, but I think she’s going to be one of those—“ his forehead wrinkled at his brow as he tried to conjure up the phrase, “super sensers. Super tasters? Whatever. She smells things, very, very well.”

Vincenzo chuckles to himself.

“Fuck me, I turned into one of those dads who just… yaps about their kid the whole time.”

#i love them both :) <3 #mina vagante 🌋

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napuleh · 2 years

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