Reportage about loneliness to insert in a magazine.
memories
from the past
A short story of love, passions, sudden losses, and loneliness. From America to Paris and at the end in Italy, in a small village of the north. Luisa Olivieri tell us her story, about her solitude and her dramas to lose somenthing precious, such as dear people. This is a short documentary about the social problem of loneliness of the old people, nobody goes to visit and they remain alone just with their memories.
Photo and Reportage by Stefania Larzeni
A little piece of America My name is Louisa Olivieri. I was born June 21, 1922 in Sweet Grass, Montana, a small town on the border between North America and Western Canada. My father was an Italian general who had fought alongside the Americans in World War I and moved shortly after in America where he continued to work for the army. There he met my mother, a young nurse who served in military hospitals.
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I remember... “I had beautiful evening dresses, many with glittering nuggets, lace and embroidery. Oh, how I liked my lace gloves blacks, took them a day of celebration for church. I was young and beautiful, I had many suitors, and I remember a young man who gave me a pendant with a green stone and told me that was a symbol of hope.�
From Paris to Italy I didn’t remember anything about that period in America because we boarded immediately after my birth to Europe. Up to 4 years I lived in Paris. At the outbreak of World War I, I was 17 years old and I was living with my mom in Milan. My father had died shortly before. We began to attend high Milanese bourgeoisie, luxury houses and parties. But during the war we moved into the house of my paternal grandparents, near an airport that soon became the military use.
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I remember... “Even if I have the beauty of 92 years I like to wear makeup, dressed well to go outside. In my youth when my girlfriends and I had to go to the major party in Milan in the afternoon we met at my house and we were preparing for the evening. We style our hair, we paint our nails, we exchanged our clothes, we chose the tissue adapted in case we met a young man who had invited us to dance.�
Flurry shots One morning in August 1941, I was picking up clothes in the garden when suddenly a flurry shots coming from the sky, were the planes of the enemy forces were bombing the airport. I ran as I could but my mom was drilled with bullets and killed instantly. From that moment I had no one. I was alone.
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My love, Giulio I began to serve as a nurse at the nearby military hospital, and they met my boyfriend, Giulio, a young soldier arrived at the hospital with his friend Francesco injured on his back, who died after few days. It was an unforgettable year despite the war but soon that time ended, Giulio had to leave in 1943 alongside the Allies. I still remember his words, “your perfume fills my soul will protect me, and I will come to you, my love.� Two months later I discovered that I was pregnant, I wanted to shout to the world, I wanted to shout it to Giulio. But he was dead, I received the letter shortly after. The disappointment was so much that I became seriously ill and I lost my baby. It took months before I was to resume. I was again alone and without hope of a love. My heart had been left to the past.
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I believe... “You asked me why the red color... so... I love the red, it’s the color of love and passion. That passion that I have been deprived by our God but also I thank Him for giving me just one year of love because it did live up to now. I am very religious, God listens to us, each day I pray the God helps those who are not close to Him, those who have no time to stop and give Him thanks. I pray for them.”
After my pain I returned to Milan to my friends of youth. Here I started to work with my friend Elsa as a hairdresser at home for the various lords of the city. I replaced my pain with the holidays, parties, jewelry, and clothing. We often went to the “Grand Hotel Exelsior” in Venice, and I remember that song, “Un concerto per te”, beautiful, reminded me of Giulio. I moved to Volta Mantovana only in 1974. I was a personal hairdresser for Cornegliani lords, and I had lived in their house for five years.
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A little village
I found an apartment and then I lived here. I went from house to house to arrange the hair of the riches men and I erned quite well. I also began to paint with oils and was also awarded as a naive painter. Everytime my home is open for who wants to visit me, to drink and eat something during some story or adventure. I’m very happy when people come to me and so I can show them some old thinghs from the past and tell them about uses of the past and how is change the life from the past to present.