<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<!-- generator="MYOB" -->
<feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"  xml:lang="en-gb">
	<title type="text">Drama | ELAN Frantoio</title>
	<subtitle type="text">ELAN Frantoio, Centre for Performative Arts, is a creative centre directed by Firenza Guidi, combining a permanent school and a production company.</subtitle>
	<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.elanfrantoio.org"/>
	<id>http://www.elanfrantoio.org/</id>
	<updated>2020-01-18T11:37:47Z</updated>
	<generator uri="http://joomla.org" version="1.5">MYOB</generator>
<link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.elanfrantoio.orgindex.php?format=feed&amp;type=atom&amp;option=com_content&amp;Itemid=42&amp;id=13&amp;lang=en&amp;layout=blog&amp;view=category" />
	<entry>
		<title>The Tranquil Ones (2011)</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.elanfrantoio.org/en/studio/firenza-guidi-writings/drama/the-tranquil-ones-2011/the-tranquil-ones-2011"/>
		<published>2012-01-12T15:12:38Z</published>
		<updated>2012-01-12T15:12:38Z</updated>
		<id>http://www.elanfrantoio.org/en/studio/firenza-guidi-writings/drama/the-tranquil-ones-2011/the-tranquil-ones-2011</id>
		<author>
			<name>Lisa Savini</name>
		<email>lisa.savini@gmail.com</email>
		</author>
		<summary type="html">&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-left&quot;&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;The Tranquil Ones&lt;/h1&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;drammi&quot;&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Still raining. They're all out there shouting and wildly gesticulating&lt;br /&gt;stench of beastly and humid.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I'm here,&lt;br /&gt;Locked up in my little room where I've been breathing in&lt;br /&gt;mad-talk for over ten years. They live in their night shirt&lt;br /&gt;Like lost Don Quixotes with nobody to love them&lt;br /&gt;Nor a horse to take them away in the moonlight&lt;br /&gt;Their ravings beating on the poor dumb walls.&lt;br /&gt;Around them sweaty steam.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Inside: all quiet&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Excerpt from &quot;The Tranquil Ones&quot; by Firenza Guidi.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;First presented in Fucecchio (Fi)&lt;br /&gt;Museo Civico&lt;br /&gt;Saturday 26 and Sunday 27 November 2011&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-right&quot;&gt;{igallery id=&quot;6052&quot; cid=&quot;95&quot; pid=&quot;4&quot; type=&quot;random&quot; children=&quot;1&quot; showmenu=&quot;1&quot; tags=&quot;&quot; limit=&quot;200&quot;}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<content type="html">&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-left&quot;&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;The Tranquil Ones&lt;/h1&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;drammi&quot;&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Still raining. They're all out there shouting and wildly gesticulating&lt;br /&gt;stench of beastly and humid.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I'm here,&lt;br /&gt;Locked up in my little room where I've been breathing in&lt;br /&gt;mad-talk for over ten years. They live in their night shirt&lt;br /&gt;Like lost Don Quixotes with nobody to love them&lt;br /&gt;Nor a horse to take them away in the moonlight&lt;br /&gt;Their ravings beating on the poor dumb walls.&lt;br /&gt;Around them sweaty steam.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Inside: all quiet&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Excerpt from &quot;The Tranquil Ones&quot; by Firenza Guidi.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;First presented in Fucecchio (Fi)&lt;br /&gt;Museo Civico&lt;br /&gt;Saturday 26 and Sunday 27 November 2011&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-right&quot;&gt;{igallery id=&quot;6052&quot; cid=&quot;95&quot; pid=&quot;4&quot; type=&quot;random&quot; children=&quot;1&quot; showmenu=&quot;1&quot; tags=&quot;&quot; limit=&quot;200&quot;}&lt;/div&gt;</content>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<title>Lake without Tears (2011)</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.elanfrantoio.org/en/studio/firenza-guidi-writings/drama/lago-senza-lacrime-2011/lake-without-tears-2011"/>
		<published>2011-04-25T12:40:56Z</published>
		<updated>2011-04-25T12:40:56Z</updated>
		<id>http://www.elanfrantoio.org/en/studio/firenza-guidi-writings/drama/lago-senza-lacrime-2011/lake-without-tears-2011</id>
		<author>
			<name>Lisa Savini</name>
		<email>lisa.savini@gmail.com</email>
		</author>
		<summary type="html">&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-left&quot;&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;Lake without Tears&lt;/h1&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;drammi&quot;&gt;
&lt;p&gt;My bones stuck out. From under my skin. All my joints were full of pus-&lt;br /&gt;my knee and elbows, my throat&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;They thought it was diphtheria, but it wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;It was the onset of death.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Again, I was there somewhere, with some Czech boy and some people&lt;br /&gt;I don't know... next to me was a toilet bowl.&lt;br /&gt;People had diarrhea.&lt;br /&gt;It was living hell.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Ans suddenly Luisa came and said:&lt;br /&gt;&quot;The war is over&quot;.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I still remember the feeling. I thought:&lt;br /&gt;Now? What for? It is no longer possible to live.&lt;br /&gt;Where were they before?&lt;br /&gt;What is the use of it now?&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Excerpt from &quot;Lake without Tears&quot; by Firenza Guidi.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;First presented in Sovigliana (Fi)&lt;br /&gt;Vois club&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday 9 February 2011&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-right&quot;&gt;{igallery id=&quot;2724&quot; cid=&quot;52&quot; pid=&quot;4&quot; type=&quot;classic&quot; children=&quot;1&quot; showmenu=&quot;1&quot; tags=&quot;&quot; limit=&quot;200&quot;}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<content type="html">&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-left&quot;&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;Lake without Tears&lt;/h1&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;drammi&quot;&gt;
&lt;p&gt;My bones stuck out. From under my skin. All my joints were full of pus-&lt;br /&gt;my knee and elbows, my throat&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;They thought it was diphtheria, but it wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;It was the onset of death.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Again, I was there somewhere, with some Czech boy and some people&lt;br /&gt;I don't know... next to me was a toilet bowl.&lt;br /&gt;People had diarrhea.&lt;br /&gt;It was living hell.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Ans suddenly Luisa came and said:&lt;br /&gt;&quot;The war is over&quot;.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I still remember the feeling. I thought:&lt;br /&gt;Now? What for? It is no longer possible to live.&lt;br /&gt;Where were they before?&lt;br /&gt;What is the use of it now?&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Excerpt from &quot;Lake without Tears&quot; by Firenza Guidi.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;First presented in Sovigliana (Fi)&lt;br /&gt;Vois club&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday 9 February 2011&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-right&quot;&gt;{igallery id=&quot;2724&quot; cid=&quot;52&quot; pid=&quot;4&quot; type=&quot;classic&quot; children=&quot;1&quot; showmenu=&quot;1&quot; tags=&quot;&quot; limit=&quot;200&quot;}&lt;/div&gt;</content>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<title>Eclipses (2011)</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.elanfrantoio.org/en/studio/firenza-guidi-writings/drama/eclissi-2011/eclipses-2011"/>
		<published>2011-04-25T12:40:37Z</published>
		<updated>2011-04-25T12:40:37Z</updated>
		<id>http://www.elanfrantoio.org/en/studio/firenza-guidi-writings/drama/eclissi-2011/eclipses-2011</id>
		<author>
			<name>Lisa Savini</name>
		<email>lisa.savini@gmail.com</email>
		</author>
		<summary type="html">&lt;div class=&quot;width 46 float-left&quot;&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;Eclipses&lt;/h1&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;drammi&quot;&gt;
&lt;p&gt;From the very first moment I understood that only drink&lt;br /&gt;could save me&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;For a while, alcohol, the soothing substance, stirred something &lt;br /&gt;in my subconscious &lt;br /&gt;which had little to do with my true nature.&lt;br /&gt;I just had an irrepressible desire to kill.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;It was a dream I dreamt with open eyes&lt;br /&gt;The weapon would be a knife and I knew&lt;br /&gt;I'd stab my victim right after he'd done the business.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Excerpt from &quot;Eclipses&quot; by Firenza Guidi.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;First presented in Fucecchio (Fi)&lt;br /&gt;Auditorium La Tinaia&lt;br /&gt;Saturday 29 January 2011&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-right&quot;&gt;{igallery id=&quot;5433&quot; cid=&quot;31&quot; pid=&quot;4&quot; type=&quot;random&quot; children=&quot;1&quot; showmenu=&quot;1&quot; tags=&quot;&quot; limit=&quot;100&quot;}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<content type="html">&lt;div class=&quot;width 46 float-left&quot;&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;Eclipses&lt;/h1&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;drammi&quot;&gt;
&lt;p&gt;From the very first moment I understood that only drink&lt;br /&gt;could save me&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;For a while, alcohol, the soothing substance, stirred something &lt;br /&gt;in my subconscious &lt;br /&gt;which had little to do with my true nature.&lt;br /&gt;I just had an irrepressible desire to kill.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;It was a dream I dreamt with open eyes&lt;br /&gt;The weapon would be a knife and I knew&lt;br /&gt;I'd stab my victim right after he'd done the business.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Excerpt from &quot;Eclipses&quot; by Firenza Guidi.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;First presented in Fucecchio (Fi)&lt;br /&gt;Auditorium La Tinaia&lt;br /&gt;Saturday 29 January 2011&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-right&quot;&gt;{igallery id=&quot;5433&quot; cid=&quot;31&quot; pid=&quot;4&quot; type=&quot;random&quot; children=&quot;1&quot; showmenu=&quot;1&quot; tags=&quot;&quot; limit=&quot;100&quot;}&lt;/div&gt;</content>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<title>First and Foremost a Woman (2010)</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.elanfrantoio.org/en/studio/firenza-guidi-writings/drama/first-and-foremost-a-woman-2010/first-and-foremost-a-woman-2010"/>
		<published>2011-04-25T12:40:14Z</published>
		<updated>2011-04-25T12:40:14Z</updated>
		<id>http://www.elanfrantoio.org/en/studio/firenza-guidi-writings/drama/first-and-foremost-a-woman-2010/first-and-foremost-a-woman-2010</id>
		<author>
			<name>Lisa Savini</name>
		<email>lisa.savini@gmail.com</email>
		</author>
		<summary type="html">&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-left&quot;&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;First and Foremost a Woman&lt;/h1&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;drammi&quot;&gt;
&lt;p&gt;WHAT WAS YOUR OCCUPATION BEFORE COMING TO ITALY? (Did you work, study, other…)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;After getting my degree in 2005 I opened a shop, a kind of emporium. It didn’t go well. I spent my childhood with my family in a small village 250km from the capital, Tbilisi. I went to the capital to study medicine. I couldn’t complete my specialization because it cost me 1500 lari per year (750 Euro), so I thought I ‘d earn some money opening a business. My father bought me a house so I could go to university. He was an engineer and my mother was Professor of Physics and Hydraulics at university. My dad died in my second year: it’s the money he left me that allowed me to open the shop. During my second year I also got married. I was expecting Anna. In 2003 I separated. I went to live with my mother in Tbilisi. The business collapsed after a year and a half. I lost all my money. But I didn’t lose my home.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Excerpt from &quot;First and Foremost a Woman&quot;, reading/performance based on verbatim interviews to carers living in Italy.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;First presented in Fucecchio (Fi)&lt;br /&gt;Auditorium La Tinaia&lt;br /&gt;Saturday 13 March 2010&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;width 46 float-right&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;Primaditutto-Donna&quot; src=&quot;http://www.elanfrantoio.org/images/stories/Primaditutto-Donna.jpg&quot; height=&quot;281&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<content type="html">&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-left&quot;&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;First and Foremost a Woman&lt;/h1&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;drammi&quot;&gt;
&lt;p&gt;WHAT WAS YOUR OCCUPATION BEFORE COMING TO ITALY? (Did you work, study, other…)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;After getting my degree in 2005 I opened a shop, a kind of emporium. It didn’t go well. I spent my childhood with my family in a small village 250km from the capital, Tbilisi. I went to the capital to study medicine. I couldn’t complete my specialization because it cost me 1500 lari per year (750 Euro), so I thought I ‘d earn some money opening a business. My father bought me a house so I could go to university. He was an engineer and my mother was Professor of Physics and Hydraulics at university. My dad died in my second year: it’s the money he left me that allowed me to open the shop. During my second year I also got married. I was expecting Anna. In 2003 I separated. I went to live with my mother in Tbilisi. The business collapsed after a year and a half. I lost all my money. But I didn’t lose my home.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Excerpt from &quot;First and Foremost a Woman&quot;, reading/performance based on verbatim interviews to carers living in Italy.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;First presented in Fucecchio (Fi)&lt;br /&gt;Auditorium La Tinaia&lt;br /&gt;Saturday 13 March 2010&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;width 46 float-right&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;Primaditutto-Donna&quot; src=&quot;http://www.elanfrantoio.org/images/stories/Primaditutto-Donna.jpg&quot; height=&quot;281&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<title>La Romola (2009)</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.elanfrantoio.org/en/studio/firenza-guidi-writings/drama/la-romola-2009/la-romola-2009"/>
		<published>2011-04-25T12:39:54Z</published>
		<updated>2011-04-25T12:39:54Z</updated>
		<id>http://www.elanfrantoio.org/en/studio/firenza-guidi-writings/drama/la-romola-2009/la-romola-2009</id>
		<author>
			<name>Lisa Savini</name>
		<email>lisa.savini@gmail.com</email>
		</author>
		<summary type="html">&lt;div class=&quot;width 46 float-left&quot;&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;La Romola&lt;/h1&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;drammi&quot;&gt;
&lt;p&gt;My name is Agatha. I was born and bred in the Poggetto,&lt;br /&gt;The most miserable part of town.&lt;br /&gt;My life spent in the back-alleys of Greppa and Camullia&lt;br /&gt;In amongst people who were so poor they couldn't even count on bread.&lt;br /&gt;Somehow I grew to be eighteen,&lt;br /&gt;More for the grace of god than for what I put in my mouth.&lt;br /&gt;I've seen women fight with spades and hay-forks,&lt;br /&gt;I've seen grown men suckle at a woman's breast,&lt;br /&gt;I've seen husbands needing to go out so their wife's lover could come in.&lt;br /&gt;I've seen a man who ate after his wife and son&lt;br /&gt;For fear they would knock him out,&lt;br /&gt;I've seen people throw their mother down the stairs.&lt;br /&gt;I've seen rapes.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;And yet I'm still here and I can't complain.&lt;br /&gt;There's always somebody giving me something.&lt;br /&gt;This little broken dress comes from Mistress Rosa.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Excerpt from &quot;La Romola&quot; by Firenza Guidi.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;First presented in Fucecchio (Fi)&lt;br /&gt;Auditorium La Tinaia&lt;br /&gt;Saturday 28 November 2009&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;width 46 float-right&quot;&gt;{igallery id=&quot;6986&quot; cid=&quot;13&quot; pid=&quot;4&quot; type=&quot;classic&quot; children=&quot;1&quot; showmenu=&quot;1&quot; tags=&quot;&quot; limit=&quot;100&quot;}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<content type="html">&lt;div class=&quot;width 46 float-left&quot;&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;La Romola&lt;/h1&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;drammi&quot;&gt;
&lt;p&gt;My name is Agatha. I was born and bred in the Poggetto,&lt;br /&gt;The most miserable part of town.&lt;br /&gt;My life spent in the back-alleys of Greppa and Camullia&lt;br /&gt;In amongst people who were so poor they couldn't even count on bread.&lt;br /&gt;Somehow I grew to be eighteen,&lt;br /&gt;More for the grace of god than for what I put in my mouth.&lt;br /&gt;I've seen women fight with spades and hay-forks,&lt;br /&gt;I've seen grown men suckle at a woman's breast,&lt;br /&gt;I've seen husbands needing to go out so their wife's lover could come in.&lt;br /&gt;I've seen a man who ate after his wife and son&lt;br /&gt;For fear they would knock him out,&lt;br /&gt;I've seen people throw their mother down the stairs.&lt;br /&gt;I've seen rapes.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;And yet I'm still here and I can't complain.&lt;br /&gt;There's always somebody giving me something.&lt;br /&gt;This little broken dress comes from Mistress Rosa.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Excerpt from &quot;La Romola&quot; by Firenza Guidi.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;First presented in Fucecchio (Fi)&lt;br /&gt;Auditorium La Tinaia&lt;br /&gt;Saturday 28 November 2009&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;width 46 float-right&quot;&gt;{igallery id=&quot;6986&quot; cid=&quot;13&quot; pid=&quot;4&quot; type=&quot;classic&quot; children=&quot;1&quot; showmenu=&quot;1&quot; tags=&quot;&quot; limit=&quot;100&quot;}&lt;/div&gt;</content>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<title>L'Eccidio Verbatim (2009)</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.elanfrantoio.org/en/studio/firenza-guidi-writings/drama/leccidio-verbatim-2009/leccidio-verbatim-2009"/>
		<published>2011-04-25T12:39:33Z</published>
		<updated>2011-04-25T12:39:33Z</updated>
		<id>http://www.elanfrantoio.org/en/studio/firenza-guidi-writings/drama/leccidio-verbatim-2009/leccidio-verbatim-2009</id>
		<author>
			<name>Lisa Savini</name>
		<email>lisa.savini@gmail.com</email>
		</author>
		<summary type="html">&lt;div class=&quot;notranslation&quot;&gt;&lt;span&gt;Sorry we haven't translated this yet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-left&quot;&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;L'Eccidio Verbatim&lt;/h1&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;drammi&quot;&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Quando buttarono giù il ponte dell'Arno era una domenica mattina, la mia cognata Silvia mi disse Scappa buttano le bombe, ma io non avevo paura delle bombe e andai sull'aia a vedere gli aerei americani.&lt;br /&gt;Io non avevo paura delle bombe, ma dei tedeschi perché una volta si volevano divertire con me.&lt;br /&gt;Era il 26 Agosto, io ero in cucina a fare la pasta sfoglia insieme a mia madre, all'improvviso sentii un boato e la cucina si riempì di polvere e fumo.&lt;br /&gt;Quando la polvere e il fumo si furono dileguati mi accorsi che mia mamma Pia era accasciata in terra in un bagno di sangue.&lt;br /&gt;Gridai: Venite, la mamma è stata colpita da una scheggia.&lt;br /&gt;Andai a prendere dei pezzi di biancheria per tamponare la ferita e con l'aceto la disinfettai.&lt;br /&gt;Non c'era più niente da fare.&lt;br /&gt;Le lavai il viso, la pancia, le mani, le gambe e i piedi e le acconciai i capelli.&lt;br /&gt;Poi con un carretto insieme al babbo la portai al cimitero.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Estratto da &quot;L'Eccidio Verbatim&quot; di Firenza Guidi.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Presentato per la prima volta a Massarella, Fucecchio (Fi)&lt;br /&gt;Piazza Sette Martiri&lt;br /&gt;domenica 23 agosto 2009&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-right&quot;&gt;{igallery id=&quot;6715&quot; cid=&quot;39&quot; pid=&quot;4&quot; type=&quot;classic&quot; children=&quot;1&quot; showmenu=&quot;1&quot; tags=&quot;&quot; limit=&quot;100&quot;}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<content type="html">&lt;div class=&quot;notranslation&quot;&gt;&lt;span&gt;Sorry we haven't translated this yet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-left&quot;&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;L'Eccidio Verbatim&lt;/h1&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;drammi&quot;&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Quando buttarono giù il ponte dell'Arno era una domenica mattina, la mia cognata Silvia mi disse Scappa buttano le bombe, ma io non avevo paura delle bombe e andai sull'aia a vedere gli aerei americani.&lt;br /&gt;Io non avevo paura delle bombe, ma dei tedeschi perché una volta si volevano divertire con me.&lt;br /&gt;Era il 26 Agosto, io ero in cucina a fare la pasta sfoglia insieme a mia madre, all'improvviso sentii un boato e la cucina si riempì di polvere e fumo.&lt;br /&gt;Quando la polvere e il fumo si furono dileguati mi accorsi che mia mamma Pia era accasciata in terra in un bagno di sangue.&lt;br /&gt;Gridai: Venite, la mamma è stata colpita da una scheggia.&lt;br /&gt;Andai a prendere dei pezzi di biancheria per tamponare la ferita e con l'aceto la disinfettai.&lt;br /&gt;Non c'era più niente da fare.&lt;br /&gt;Le lavai il viso, la pancia, le mani, le gambe e i piedi e le acconciai i capelli.&lt;br /&gt;Poi con un carretto insieme al babbo la portai al cimitero.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Estratto da &quot;L'Eccidio Verbatim&quot; di Firenza Guidi.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Presentato per la prima volta a Massarella, Fucecchio (Fi)&lt;br /&gt;Piazza Sette Martiri&lt;br /&gt;domenica 23 agosto 2009&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-right&quot;&gt;{igallery id=&quot;6715&quot; cid=&quot;39&quot; pid=&quot;4&quot; type=&quot;classic&quot; children=&quot;1&quot; showmenu=&quot;1&quot; tags=&quot;&quot; limit=&quot;100&quot;}&lt;/div&gt;</content>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<title>Auschwitz (2009)</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.elanfrantoio.org/en/studio/firenza-guidi-writings/drama/auschwitz-2009/auschwitz-2009"/>
		<published>2011-04-25T12:39:15Z</published>
		<updated>2011-04-25T12:39:15Z</updated>
		<id>http://www.elanfrantoio.org/en/studio/firenza-guidi-writings/drama/auschwitz-2009/auschwitz-2009</id>
		<author>
			<name>Lisa Savini</name>
		<email>lisa.savini@gmail.com</email>
		</author>
		<summary type="html">&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-left&quot;&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;Auschwitz&lt;/h1&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;drammi&quot;&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I've just got married.&lt;br /&gt;A tin ring at my finger, nothing more.&lt;br /&gt;Because gold and silver is all gone&lt;br /&gt;to make the country's good.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I've still orange blossom in my pocket&lt;br /&gt;And a love letter which I wrote for him.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;But then they lifted me up into a wagon:&lt;br /&gt;That's where my honey-moon has been.&lt;br /&gt;A forced trip with other cattle to be slaughtered&lt;br /&gt;In amongst the cold, the stench, the hunger.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Love words in this hell.&lt;br /&gt;I'm nothing but a number now.&lt;br /&gt;And how can a number speak of love?&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Excerpt from &quot;Auschwitz&quot; by Firenza Guidi.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;First presented in Fucecchio (Fi)&lt;br /&gt;Auditorium La Tinaia&lt;br /&gt;Saturday 31 January 2009&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-right&quot;&gt;{igallery id=&quot;3539&quot; cid=&quot;10&quot; pid=&quot;4&quot; type=&quot;classic&quot; children=&quot;1&quot; showmenu=&quot;1&quot; tags=&quot;&quot; limit=&quot;100&quot;}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<content type="html">&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-left&quot;&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;Auschwitz&lt;/h1&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;drammi&quot;&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I've just got married.&lt;br /&gt;A tin ring at my finger, nothing more.&lt;br /&gt;Because gold and silver is all gone&lt;br /&gt;to make the country's good.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I've still orange blossom in my pocket&lt;br /&gt;And a love letter which I wrote for him.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;But then they lifted me up into a wagon:&lt;br /&gt;That's where my honey-moon has been.&lt;br /&gt;A forced trip with other cattle to be slaughtered&lt;br /&gt;In amongst the cold, the stench, the hunger.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Love words in this hell.&lt;br /&gt;I'm nothing but a number now.&lt;br /&gt;And how can a number speak of love?&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Excerpt from &quot;Auschwitz&quot; by Firenza Guidi.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;First presented in Fucecchio (Fi)&lt;br /&gt;Auditorium La Tinaia&lt;br /&gt;Saturday 31 January 2009&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-right&quot;&gt;{igallery id=&quot;3539&quot; cid=&quot;10&quot; pid=&quot;4&quot; type=&quot;classic&quot; children=&quot;1&quot; showmenu=&quot;1&quot; tags=&quot;&quot; limit=&quot;100&quot;}&lt;/div&gt;</content>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<title>La Bocca del Ragno (2008)</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.elanfrantoio.org/en/studio/firenza-guidi-writings/drama/la-bocca-del-ragno-2008/la-bocca-del-ragno-2008"/>
		<published>2011-04-25T12:38:51Z</published>
		<updated>2011-04-25T12:38:51Z</updated>
		<id>http://www.elanfrantoio.org/en/studio/firenza-guidi-writings/drama/la-bocca-del-ragno-2008/la-bocca-del-ragno-2008</id>
		<author>
			<name>Lisa Savini</name>
		<email>lisa.savini@gmail.com</email>
		</author>
		<summary type="html">&lt;div class=&quot;notranslation&quot;&gt;&lt;span&gt;Sorry we haven't translated this yet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-left&quot;&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;La Bocca del Ragno&lt;/h1&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;drammi&quot;&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Voce di Eloisa, amante di Abelardo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Io non voglio la realtà&lt;br /&gt;Voglio la magia&lt;br /&gt;Voglio tornare a respirare.&lt;br /&gt;Il tuo tocco alla parete mi sconvolge&lt;br /&gt;Mi sembra un abbraccio e brucio dalla voglia di parlarti, amore mio&lt;br /&gt;Un ciglio alzato è per dire sì&lt;br /&gt;Un dito che si muove è un bacio appassionato&lt;br /&gt;Una caduta su un lato è Mi si spezza il cuore quando esci da questa stanza&lt;br /&gt;Un labbro storto è una lettera&lt;br /&gt;Uno struscio di federa è Qui dentro si sta bene;&lt;br /&gt;Tre respiri uno dietro l'altro è Adoro il tuo profumo.&lt;br /&gt;Un'alzata di spalle è Tocca a te muovere il cavallo &lt;em&gt;(ride)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Un giro di vite è Dormi tranquillo amore mio&lt;br /&gt;Le mie labbra unite in un sussurro è Senza di te&lt;br /&gt;non sono che un corpo, una carcassa vuota.&lt;br /&gt;Una scossa della testa dice tutto il resto,&lt;br /&gt;anche quello che non mi veniva mai in mente quando avevo la facoltà di dire&lt;br /&gt;Dire&lt;br /&gt;Dire&lt;br /&gt;Dire tutto quello che avrei voluto dire&lt;br /&gt;Non mi uscire dagli occhi&lt;br /&gt;Non mi lasciare mai&lt;br /&gt;Torna da me, così come ti vedo io,&lt;br /&gt;nell'ombra della sera.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Estratto da &quot;La Bocca del Ragno&quot; di Firenza Guidi.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Presentato per la prima volta a Fucecchio (Fi)&lt;br /&gt;Auditorium La Tinaia &lt;br /&gt;domenica 30 novembre 2008&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-right&quot;&gt;{igallery id=&quot;822&quot; cid=&quot;17&quot; pid=&quot;4&quot; type=&quot;classic&quot; children=&quot;1&quot; showmenu=&quot;1&quot; tags=&quot;&quot; limit=&quot;100&quot;}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<content type="html">&lt;div class=&quot;notranslation&quot;&gt;&lt;span&gt;Sorry we haven't translated this yet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-left&quot;&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;La Bocca del Ragno&lt;/h1&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;drammi&quot;&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Voce di Eloisa, amante di Abelardo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Io non voglio la realtà&lt;br /&gt;Voglio la magia&lt;br /&gt;Voglio tornare a respirare.&lt;br /&gt;Il tuo tocco alla parete mi sconvolge&lt;br /&gt;Mi sembra un abbraccio e brucio dalla voglia di parlarti, amore mio&lt;br /&gt;Un ciglio alzato è per dire sì&lt;br /&gt;Un dito che si muove è un bacio appassionato&lt;br /&gt;Una caduta su un lato è Mi si spezza il cuore quando esci da questa stanza&lt;br /&gt;Un labbro storto è una lettera&lt;br /&gt;Uno struscio di federa è Qui dentro si sta bene;&lt;br /&gt;Tre respiri uno dietro l'altro è Adoro il tuo profumo.&lt;br /&gt;Un'alzata di spalle è Tocca a te muovere il cavallo &lt;em&gt;(ride)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Un giro di vite è Dormi tranquillo amore mio&lt;br /&gt;Le mie labbra unite in un sussurro è Senza di te&lt;br /&gt;non sono che un corpo, una carcassa vuota.&lt;br /&gt;Una scossa della testa dice tutto il resto,&lt;br /&gt;anche quello che non mi veniva mai in mente quando avevo la facoltà di dire&lt;br /&gt;Dire&lt;br /&gt;Dire&lt;br /&gt;Dire tutto quello che avrei voluto dire&lt;br /&gt;Non mi uscire dagli occhi&lt;br /&gt;Non mi lasciare mai&lt;br /&gt;Torna da me, così come ti vedo io,&lt;br /&gt;nell'ombra della sera.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Estratto da &quot;La Bocca del Ragno&quot; di Firenza Guidi.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Presentato per la prima volta a Fucecchio (Fi)&lt;br /&gt;Auditorium La Tinaia &lt;br /&gt;domenica 30 novembre 2008&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-right&quot;&gt;{igallery id=&quot;822&quot; cid=&quot;17&quot; pid=&quot;4&quot; type=&quot;classic&quot; children=&quot;1&quot; showmenu=&quot;1&quot; tags=&quot;&quot; limit=&quot;100&quot;}&lt;/div&gt;</content>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<title>Il Silenzio del Bue (2007-2010)</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.elanfrantoio.org/en/studio/firenza-guidi-writings/drama/il-silenzio-del-bue-2007-2010/il-silenzio-del-bue-2007-2010"/>
		<published>2011-04-25T12:38:31Z</published>
		<updated>2011-04-25T12:38:31Z</updated>
		<id>http://www.elanfrantoio.org/en/studio/firenza-guidi-writings/drama/il-silenzio-del-bue-2007-2010/il-silenzio-del-bue-2007-2010</id>
		<author>
			<name>Lisa Savini</name>
		<email>lisa.savini@gmail.com</email>
		</author>
		<summary type="html">&lt;div class=&quot;notranslation&quot;&gt;&lt;span&gt;Sorry we haven't translated this yet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-left&quot;&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;Il Silenzio del Bue&lt;/h1&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;drammi&quot;&gt;
&lt;p&gt;L'armadio è pieno di vestiti.&lt;br /&gt;Tutti da uomo. Babbo, nonno, bisnonno e fratelli tutti&lt;br /&gt;Morti, o mai tornati o dispersi in Russia.&lt;br /&gt;È pieno zeppo. Perché non se li mette più nessuno&lt;br /&gt;Ce ne sono troppi.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;E allora un giorno, ormai non troppo lontano,&lt;br /&gt;mi sveglierò all'alba&lt;br /&gt;scivolerò giù dal letto senza che mi sentano&lt;br /&gt;Piano piano, mi toglierò la camicia da notte&lt;br /&gt;E la pezzola,&lt;br /&gt;e m'infilerò la giacca, i pantaloni, la camicia e il basco&lt;br /&gt;e andrò a piedi su per le montagne&lt;br /&gt;scenderò donna e uscirò dall'uscio come uomo&lt;br /&gt;e tornerò soltanto&lt;br /&gt;quando il sangue&lt;br /&gt;non scorrerà più sulle colline.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;E poi rimarrò lì&lt;br /&gt;Tra rocce e bocche di leone&lt;br /&gt;A pascolar le pecore o a contar sassi&lt;br /&gt;Perché che altro c'è da fare se non&lt;br /&gt;Star fermi ad ascoltare il mare?&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Estratto da &quot;Il Silenzio del Bue&quot; di Firenza Guidi. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Presentato per la prima volta a Massarella, Fucecchio (Fi)&lt;br /&gt;Piazza Sette Martiri&lt;br /&gt;sabato 25 agosto 2007&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-right&quot;&gt;{igallery id=&quot;4286&quot; cid=&quot;5&quot; pid=&quot;4&quot; type=&quot;classic&quot; children=&quot;1&quot; showmenu=&quot;1&quot; tags=&quot;&quot; limit=&quot;100&quot;}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<content type="html">&lt;div class=&quot;notranslation&quot;&gt;&lt;span&gt;Sorry we haven't translated this yet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-left&quot;&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;Il Silenzio del Bue&lt;/h1&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;drammi&quot;&gt;
&lt;p&gt;L'armadio è pieno di vestiti.&lt;br /&gt;Tutti da uomo. Babbo, nonno, bisnonno e fratelli tutti&lt;br /&gt;Morti, o mai tornati o dispersi in Russia.&lt;br /&gt;È pieno zeppo. Perché non se li mette più nessuno&lt;br /&gt;Ce ne sono troppi.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;E allora un giorno, ormai non troppo lontano,&lt;br /&gt;mi sveglierò all'alba&lt;br /&gt;scivolerò giù dal letto senza che mi sentano&lt;br /&gt;Piano piano, mi toglierò la camicia da notte&lt;br /&gt;E la pezzola,&lt;br /&gt;e m'infilerò la giacca, i pantaloni, la camicia e il basco&lt;br /&gt;e andrò a piedi su per le montagne&lt;br /&gt;scenderò donna e uscirò dall'uscio come uomo&lt;br /&gt;e tornerò soltanto&lt;br /&gt;quando il sangue&lt;br /&gt;non scorrerà più sulle colline.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;E poi rimarrò lì&lt;br /&gt;Tra rocce e bocche di leone&lt;br /&gt;A pascolar le pecore o a contar sassi&lt;br /&gt;Perché che altro c'è da fare se non&lt;br /&gt;Star fermi ad ascoltare il mare?&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Estratto da &quot;Il Silenzio del Bue&quot; di Firenza Guidi. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Presentato per la prima volta a Massarella, Fucecchio (Fi)&lt;br /&gt;Piazza Sette Martiri&lt;br /&gt;sabato 25 agosto 2007&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-right&quot;&gt;{igallery id=&quot;4286&quot; cid=&quot;5&quot; pid=&quot;4&quot; type=&quot;classic&quot; children=&quot;1&quot; showmenu=&quot;1&quot; tags=&quot;&quot; limit=&quot;100&quot;}&lt;/div&gt;</content>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<title>La Casa sull'Acqua di Flora Mariani (2007)</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.elanfrantoio.org/en/studio/firenza-guidi-writings/drama/la-casa-sullacqua-di-flora-mariani-2007/la-casa-sullacqua-di-flora-mariani-2007"/>
		<published>2011-04-25T12:38:12Z</published>
		<updated>2011-04-25T12:38:12Z</updated>
		<id>http://www.elanfrantoio.org/en/studio/firenza-guidi-writings/drama/la-casa-sullacqua-di-flora-mariani-2007/la-casa-sullacqua-di-flora-mariani-2007</id>
		<author>
			<name>Lisa Savini</name>
		<email>lisa.savini@gmail.com</email>
		</author>
		<summary type="html">&lt;div class=&quot;notranslation&quot;&gt;&lt;span&gt;Sorry we haven't translated this yet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-left&quot;&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;La Casa sull'Acqua di Flora Mariani&lt;/h1&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;drammi&quot;&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Oddio, tremo tutto dentro, pensavo d'aver perso tutto &lt;br /&gt;Udito, senso, olfatto e il tocco morbido del lino&lt;br /&gt;Anche il minimo rumore mi fa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Di notte, al buio, canto e cerco di scacciare&lt;br /&gt;I fantasmi dalla mente. Do un calcio ai sassi, faccio più rumore&lt;br /&gt;Per non farmi sorprendere dal vento&lt;br /&gt;Ma gli occhi di lei mi stanno appiccicati addosso&lt;br /&gt;Mi giro e sono lì, mi rigiro e mi sorride&lt;br /&gt;Volto le spalle e me la ritrovo davanti come se fosse vera&lt;br /&gt;Il sorriso di sempre, la mano che quasi si avvicina&lt;br /&gt;Alla mia guancia, quasi la sento e invece poi&lt;br /&gt;È soltanto un vento gelido. Un alito, un sussurro e scompare.&lt;br /&gt;Fino a che non torna a tormentarmi.&lt;br /&gt;Non mi dà pace. Io non ho più pace&lt;br /&gt;Dio, Dio, se potessi chiudere gli occhi e cancellare&lt;br /&gt;Tutto. Tutto. Passato, presente, futuro.&lt;br /&gt;In un attimo scompaiono e fanno posto&lt;br /&gt;Ad una storia nuova.&lt;br /&gt;Una storia in cui ci sono anch'io. Io.&lt;br /&gt;Due lettere, un suono, io. Quanto vorrei poter aprir la porta e lasciare&lt;br /&gt;Che entri aria nuova. Per poter ricominciare&lt;br /&gt;Ri-cominciare..Ri-cominciare Dio.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Estatto da &quot;La Casa sull'Acqua di Flora Mariani&quot; di Firenza Guidi.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Presentato per la prima volta a Fucecchio (Fi)&lt;br /&gt;Poggio Salamartano&lt;br /&gt;sabato 29 settembre 2007&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-right&quot;&gt;{igallery id=&quot;3967&quot; cid=&quot;12&quot; pid=&quot;4&quot; type=&quot;classic&quot; children=&quot;1&quot; showmenu=&quot;1&quot; tags=&quot;&quot; limit=&quot;100&quot;}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<content type="html">&lt;div class=&quot;notranslation&quot;&gt;&lt;span&gt;Sorry we haven't translated this yet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-left&quot;&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;La Casa sull'Acqua di Flora Mariani&lt;/h1&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;drammi&quot;&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Oddio, tremo tutto dentro, pensavo d'aver perso tutto &lt;br /&gt;Udito, senso, olfatto e il tocco morbido del lino&lt;br /&gt;Anche il minimo rumore mi fa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Di notte, al buio, canto e cerco di scacciare&lt;br /&gt;I fantasmi dalla mente. Do un calcio ai sassi, faccio più rumore&lt;br /&gt;Per non farmi sorprendere dal vento&lt;br /&gt;Ma gli occhi di lei mi stanno appiccicati addosso&lt;br /&gt;Mi giro e sono lì, mi rigiro e mi sorride&lt;br /&gt;Volto le spalle e me la ritrovo davanti come se fosse vera&lt;br /&gt;Il sorriso di sempre, la mano che quasi si avvicina&lt;br /&gt;Alla mia guancia, quasi la sento e invece poi&lt;br /&gt;È soltanto un vento gelido. Un alito, un sussurro e scompare.&lt;br /&gt;Fino a che non torna a tormentarmi.&lt;br /&gt;Non mi dà pace. Io non ho più pace&lt;br /&gt;Dio, Dio, se potessi chiudere gli occhi e cancellare&lt;br /&gt;Tutto. Tutto. Passato, presente, futuro.&lt;br /&gt;In un attimo scompaiono e fanno posto&lt;br /&gt;Ad una storia nuova.&lt;br /&gt;Una storia in cui ci sono anch'io. Io.&lt;br /&gt;Due lettere, un suono, io. Quanto vorrei poter aprir la porta e lasciare&lt;br /&gt;Che entri aria nuova. Per poter ricominciare&lt;br /&gt;Ri-cominciare..Ri-cominciare Dio.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Estatto da &quot;La Casa sull'Acqua di Flora Mariani&quot; di Firenza Guidi.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Presentato per la prima volta a Fucecchio (Fi)&lt;br /&gt;Poggio Salamartano&lt;br /&gt;sabato 29 settembre 2007&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;width46 float-right&quot;&gt;{igallery id=&quot;3967&quot; cid=&quot;12&quot; pid=&quot;4&quot; type=&quot;classic&quot; children=&quot;1&quot; showmenu=&quot;1&quot; tags=&quot;&quot; limit=&quot;100&quot;}&lt;/div&gt;</content>
	</entry>
</feed>
