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tourismA 2024 – Communicating the Middle Ages

Richard Francovich.




“R. Award Francovich”

Curated by SAMI – Society of Italian Medieval Archaeologists

JURY (president Paul Arthur teacher of Medieval Archeology – UniSalento): Angela Borzacconi director of the Cividale del Friuli Museum, John Floris journalist and television presenter, Luigi La Rocca general director of Archaeology, fine arts and landscape – MiC, Gabriella Picinni teacher of Medieval History – UniSi, Piero Pruneti director Living ArcheologyMark Valenti teacher of Medieval Archeology – UniSi

Chaired Paul Arthur SAMI president


This evening too the moon rose drowned in a color that was too red and vague, Vesper cannot be seen, it has become blurred, the tip of the stylus has broken. What horoscope can you draw this evening, Magician?

I Philematius, protophysician, mathematician, astronomer, perhaps wise, reduced like a blind man to grope around, do not have the knowledge or the courage to cast this horoscope, to divine the answer, and I remain here waiting for the day to return

and I must say, I must say, that I am perhaps too old to understand, that I have lost my mind in who knows what abuse, or idleness, but the stars are changing on equinox nights. Or maybe I, maybe I, underestimated this new god. I read it in myself and in the signs that something is changing, but it is a weak omen that does not say how or when...

The other evening I went, almost unconsciously, down to the port at Bosphoreion where the land disappears into the sea until it becomes almost nothing and then returns to land and is no longer the West: what does it matter to this sea whether it is blue or green?

I heard the obscene songs of the drunk, of people with painted and empty eyes... hippodrome, brothel and Nordic soldiers, Romans and Greeks shout where have you gone... I heard blaspheming in Alamanno and Goth...

Absurd city, strange city of this emperor husband of a whore, of immeasurable plebs, labyrinths and impiety, of barbarians who perhaps already know the truth, of philosophers and ethereal women, suspended between two worlds, and between two eras... Fortune and age have decided for a day not far away, or fate would ask that he choose my hand, but...

Byzantium is perhaps just an unfathomable, secret and ambiguous symbol like this life, Byzantium is a myth that is not familiar to me, Byzantium is a dream that becomes incomplete, Byzantium perhaps never existed and I still ignore it and another night has gone , Lucifer has already risen, and a little wind is rising, it's cold in the tower or it's my sick age, I confuse life and death and I don't know who has passed... I cover my head with my cloak and I no longer feel , and I fall asleep, I fall asleep, I fall asleep…