L'aucielluzzo

L’aucielluzzo, the little bird. Not the eagle that sees from far away, not the dove that carries news: the sparrow, the small thing perched on a wire that flies off the moment you come near. Thirty-five is freedom in its most modest measure — not the freedom of grand gestures, but the freedom to leave whenever you want. In dreams, thirty-five arrives when there’s a small space of freedom. An hour to yourself in a packed day, a tiny decision made without asking anyone anything, the longing for lightness after a heavy stretch. And it also arrives when there’s a message: in tradition, birds bring news, and they bring it from far away. Two of the images that lead here should be read together. The little bird. And rest, which sits beside it in the Smorfia for the simplest reason in the world: to rest is to perch for a moment wherever you happen to be and take off again when you like. Anyone who has stopped to catch their breath knows they’re the same image. If thirty-five has shown up in your dream, there was something light and free in it. The Smorfia doesn’t tell you to hold on to it — in fact, the only way to keep a little bird is to let it go and see if it comes back.