{"id":2153,"date":"2026-03-09T12:33:52","date_gmt":"2026-03-09T10:33:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/walk-the-line.it\/?page_id=2153"},"modified":"2026-03-13T12:38:53","modified_gmt":"2026-03-13T10:38:53","slug":"ester-silverio","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/walk-the-line.it\/ester-silverio\/","title":{"rendered":"ESTER SILVERIO"},"content":{"rendered":"
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\n 25.08.2025<\/span>\n CAMPOROSSO \u2013 BAITA DI BEATRICE, VAL BARTOLO<\/span> <\/div>\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n <\/article>\n
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\n 26.08.2025<\/span>\n BAITA DI BEATRICE, VAL BARTOLO \u2013 RIFUGIO FRATELLI NORDIO<\/span> <\/div>\n <\/article>\n
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\n <\/div>\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n <\/article>\n
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\n 27.08.2025<\/span>\n RIFUGIO FRATELLI NORDIO \u2013 EGGER ALM<\/span> <\/div>\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n <\/article>\n
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\n 28.08.2025<\/span>\n EGGER ALM \u2013 GALLO FORCELLO, PASSO PRAMOLLO<\/span> <\/div>\n <\/article>\n
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\n <\/div>\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n <\/article>\n
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\n 28.08.2025<\/span>\n HANNES GUGGENBERGER (VEREIN DER K\u00c4RNTNER BERGWANDERF\u00dcHRER)<\/span> <\/div>\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n <\/article>\n
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\n 29.08.2025<\/span>\n GALLO FORCELLO, PASSO PRAMOLLO \u2013 MALGA CASON DI LANZA<\/span> <\/div>\n <\/article>\n
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\n <\/div>\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n <\/article>\n
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\n 29.08.2025<\/span>\n KASPAR NICKLES (FARMER)<\/span> <\/div>\n <\/article>\n <\/div>\n
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PROLOGUE<\/h3>\n

\u201cAh, look. The \ufb01rst star\u201d. Low and suspended two centimetres between the \ufb01ngers of a mountain. We cannot name it, dozens of minutes \ufb02ow by, the river and the words. Darkness falls, the friends light up, together they form a y. Eternally alone, they unite with the invisible strings we have in our heads. Trois plui grants, plui sore dai nestris, of those who travel the migrants, the menaus, \u201cthe ones facing the dangers of an unkind place: the forest\u201d.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

I wonder what those who look at us would see if we were stars.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

PAUSE<\/h3>\n

\u201cMaybe I am a lizard\u201d, I think with my eyes closed, as the sun beats down on my skin. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

\u201cBut lizards don't speak English. To be honest, neither do I.\u201d Meanwhile, I imagine a tail instead of legs - now that I'm no longer wearing my boots, the heat has stuck my feet to the grass. \u201cWhat do you know? That's a stupid assumption.\u201d I turn green and my neck stretches.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

\u201cBut I can't help it!\u201d \u201cYes, you can. Why can't you just accept being yourself?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

\u201cOkay, but... I'm here. I mean, it's different in the city and in the valley. Here, apart from walking and eating, I don't do a damn thing. And I'm constantly next to something else, as if we were sharing a house. How can you not seek a position?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n <\/article>\n

\n
\n

SPIRITS<\/h3>\n

There are certain spirits who guard the border. Whether they do so out of duty or free will is, of course, impossible to know. Nor do they appear in the same form to those who travel through the places where they dwell. Many report encountering a group of horses. Their coats are mostly dark, one of them is black with a grey tail, others are completely black, and still others change colour. They do not approach, but they allow themselves to be approached, and every day they appear for the \ufb01rst time to those who look up. According to witnesses, they watch over humans during the day, accompanying them, and vanish at night, only to reappear the following morning. Some, however, report seeing them transform into birds of prey \u2013 ravens, kestrels, buzzards \u2013 or into smaller, gregarious birds or, near water basins, into small newts.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

MENAUS<\/h3>\n

Like every day, they proceed with their hands, their boots and a knowledge that will disappear in the future. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

Yesterday, the rain gave them no respite, swelling the Rio Bianco and causing rocks to roll down the slope. Today is the same. Perhaps they should wait until the next day, especially to avoid slipping on the rocks, but this is not a life based on \u201cmaybes\u201d or possibilities.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

While the others \ufb01nish eating polenta and cheese, Franz grabs his sapin [a hooked stick used to hook logs and move them], says goodbye and heads down to the valley to wait for the logs carried down by the current. His brother Peter gets up shortly afterwards and approaches that monument of \ufb01r, larch, moss and stones. He glances quickly above him to assess the water level: the dam is full. He adjusts the scarf around his neck as he looks down, but Franz is well hidden, too far behind the woods. Now he has something more than his craft in his hands. Clearly, he is not thinking about any of this; he is surely thinking about something else, but we do not know what. He positions himself above the mouth of the dam. He drops the beam and opens the door.An explosion.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n <\/article>\n

\n
\n

MOTHER<\/h3>\n

There is a cow in the middle of the woods. She lays down on the grass, gazing at the world, near her dead daughter. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

If you look at her, she doesn\u2019t cry. I keep on questioning my mates \u2018And now, what will she do?\u2019 but nobody can answer me. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

No moaning. No movements. She doesn\u2019t tear her hair out. And so we walk past. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

ENDING<\/h3>\n

After a long journey, she\u2019s always there. Bassa e sospesa a due centimetri compresi tra le dita sore di une mont. Radio folk, look at the \ufb01rst star.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n <\/article>\n <\/div>\n <\/div>\n\n

\n
\n
\n 25.08.2025<\/span>\n CAMPOROSSO \u2013 BAITA DI BEATRICE, VAL BARTOLO<\/span> <\/div>\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n <\/article>\n
\n
\n 26.08.2025<\/span>\n BAITA DI BEATRICE, VAL BARTOLO \u2013 RIFUGIO FRATELLI NORDIO<\/span> <\/div>\n <\/article>\n
\n
\n

PROLOGUE<\/h3>\n

\u201cAh, look. The \ufb01rst star\u201d. Low and suspended two centimetres between the \ufb01ngers of a mountain. We cannot name it, dozens of minutes \ufb02ow by, the river and the words. Darkness falls, the friends light up, together they form a y. Eternally alone, they unite with the invisible strings we have in our heads. Trois plui grants, plui sore dai nestris, of those who travel the migrants, the menaus, \u201cthe ones facing the dangers of an unkind place: the forest\u201d.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

I wonder what those who look at us would see if we were stars.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

PAUSE<\/h3>\n

\u201cMaybe I am a lizard\u201d, I think with my eyes closed, as the sun beats down on my skin. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

\u201cBut lizards don't speak English. To be honest, neither do I.\u201d Meanwhile, I imagine a tail instead of legs - now that I'm no longer wearing my boots, the heat has stuck my feet to the grass. \u201cWhat do you know? That's a stupid assumption.\u201d I turn green and my neck stretches.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

\u201cBut I can't help it!\u201d \u201cYes, you can. Why can't you just accept being yourself?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

\u201cOkay, but... I'm here. I mean, it's different in the city and in the valley. Here, apart from walking and eating, I don't do a damn thing. And I'm constantly next to something else, as if we were sharing a house. How can you not seek a position?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n <\/article>\n

\n
\n <\/div>\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n <\/article>\n
\n
\n 27.08.2025<\/span>\n RIFUGIO FRATELLI NORDIO \u2013 EGGER ALM<\/span> <\/div>\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n <\/article>\n
\n
\n 28.08.2025<\/span>\n EGGER ALM \u2013 GALLO FORCELLO, PASSO PRAMOLLO<\/span> <\/div>\n <\/article>\n
\n
\n

SPIRITS<\/h3>\n

There are certain spirits who guard the border. Whether they do so out of duty or free will is, of course, impossible to know. Nor do they appear in the same form to those who travel through the places where they dwell. Many report encountering a group of horses. Their coats are mostly dark, one of them is black with a grey tail, others are completely black, and still others change colour. They do not approach, but they allow themselves to be approached, and every day they appear for the \ufb01rst time to those who look up. According to witnesses, they watch over humans during the day, accompanying them, and vanish at night, only to reappear the following morning. Some, however, report seeing them transform into birds of prey \u2013 ravens, kestrels, buzzards \u2013 or into smaller, gregarious birds or, near water basins, into small newts.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

MENAUS<\/h3>\n

Like every day, they proceed with their hands, their boots and a knowledge that will disappear in the future. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

Yesterday, the rain gave them no respite, swelling the Rio Bianco and causing rocks to roll down the slope. Today is the same. Perhaps they should wait until the next day, especially to avoid slipping on the rocks, but this is not a life based on \u201cmaybes\u201d or possibilities.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

While the others \ufb01nish eating polenta and cheese, Franz grabs his sapin [a hooked stick used to hook logs and move them], says goodbye and heads down to the valley to wait for the logs carried down by the current. His brother Peter gets up shortly afterwards and approaches that monument of \ufb01r, larch, moss and stones. He glances quickly above him to assess the water level: the dam is full. He adjusts the scarf around his neck as he looks down, but Franz is well hidden, too far behind the woods. Now he has something more than his craft in his hands. Clearly, he is not thinking about any of this; he is surely thinking about something else, but we do not know what. He positions himself above the mouth of the dam. He drops the beam and opens the door.An explosion.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n <\/article>\n

\n
\n <\/div>\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n <\/article>\n
\n
\n 28.08.2025<\/span>\n HANNES GUGGENBERGER (VEREIN DER K\u00c4RNTNER BERGWANDERF\u00dcHRER)<\/span> <\/div>\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n <\/article>\n
\n
\n 29.08.2025<\/span>\n GALLO FORCELLO, PASSO PRAMOLLO \u2013 MALGA CASON DI LANZA<\/span> <\/div>\n <\/article>\n
\n
\n

MOTHER<\/h3>\n

There is a cow in the middle of the woods. She lays down on the grass, gazing at the world, near her dead daughter. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

If you look at her, she doesn\u2019t cry. I keep on questioning my mates \u2018And now, what will she do?\u2019 but nobody can answer me. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

No moaning. No movements. She doesn\u2019t tear her hair out. And so we walk past. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n

\n

ENDING<\/h3>\n

After a long journey, she\u2019s always there. Bassa e sospesa a due centimetri compresi tra le dita sore di une mont. Radio folk, look at the \ufb01rst star.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/section>\n <\/article>\n

\n
\n <\/div>\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n <\/article>\n
\n
\n 29.08.2025<\/span>\n KASPAR NICKLES (FARMER)<\/span> <\/div>\n <\/article>\n <\/div>\n <\/section>\n <\/div>\n


\n<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

25.08.2025 CAMPOROSSO \u2013 BAITA DI BEATRICE, VAL BARTOLO 26.08.2025 BAITA DI BEATRICE, VAL BARTOLO \u2013 RIFUGIO FRATELLI NORDIO 27.08.2025 RIFUGIO FRATELLI NORDIO \u2013 EGGER ALM 28.08.2025 EGGER ALM \u2013 GALLO FORCELLO, PASSO PRAMOLLO 28.08.2025 HANNES GUGGENBERGER (VEREIN DER K\u00c4RNTNER BERGWANDERF\u00dcHRER) 29.08.2025 GALLO FORCELLO, PASSO PRAMOLLO \u2013 MALGA CASON DI LANZA 29.08.2025 KASPAR NICKLES (FARMER) PROLOGUE […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-2153","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/walk-the-line.it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2153","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/walk-the-line.it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/walk-the-line.it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/walk-the-line.it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/walk-the-line.it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2153"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/walk-the-line.it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2153\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2168,"href":"https:\/\/walk-the-line.it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2153\/revisions\/2168"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/walk-the-line.it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2153"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}