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And immediately the genius of Viola

"Because three quarters of the world died of hunger between the indifference of too many and there were those who had a nervous breakdown for a laddered stocking? For a flat tire, for a fever, skipped a party, perhaps even a trip? Because there was only the poor who declared in the name of his vices is not achieved? " (Have a good trip Mrs. Pineapple , p. 18)

An old adage says that the philosophy of philosophy, such as the owl of Minerva, appears in the twilight of history - "partly to describe and illuminate the rubble "(1). And the sunsets, you know, are Viola. In the violence and the gentleness of a sunset have nested Indian thought and action of Purple Padovani, author of Mrs. Pineapple good trip. "A book for the illiterate," as the author confessed to me during my second visit to Kovalam in February 2010. A book-signal flare, a bright portolano launched at sea for sailors, shipwrecked and mutineers. In Kovalam, a few hundred meters from the offices of Plato Studies Center, in fact there is a lighthouse. To illuminate the debris (the real ones, the tsunami of 2004), but also the steps of this day Ong that every day, for ten years, insists to exist in a village, Vizhinjam, surrounded by a tropical sun, not the Middle Ages lights. There are all elements that the story ends in happy ending (the good guys win they can realize a dream: to build a school in the most difficult of Kerala), but it is not. This book is not another simple story, but now says its hybrid nature, unconventional. It 's a book that very likely, because it dares to hold together the social commitment and her search for self (spiritual, as I said), a non-sectarian point of view. In short, an impossible task. A company failed. A Vizhinjam. You could say that the spiritual discourse to take strength from the field. It would be all in all an acceptable way to make this book reassuring. But no. Viola Padovani makes no effort to put (put) in an awkward position: it is the reality that gives no respite. When emerges from a reading that kept me nailed to two hundred pages, I notice that the sun is purple. And Violet feels the approaching, inevitable. And she gets up in the air, up up, straddling the galactic bat.

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(1) I quote from Laudatio to F. Tenbruck