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'O palazzo. Seventy is the royal palace: power that sits up high, the institution, the place where decisions are made for everyone else. In Naples, for centuries, the palace was something physical and very close — people walked past it every day — and that stripped the number of all solemnity: power, here, is a building in the middle of town. In dreams, seventy arrives when authority or ambition is involved. An office your paperwork depends on, a career you’re aiming for, a hierarchy you’re making your way through. It’s the number of people who look upward — to get there, or because they have to reckon with it. The image that leads here is a small masterpiece of folk irony: the chair. Next to the royal palace the Smorfia placed the most ordinary object there is, the one anyone sits on, which inside the palace becomes the seat of whoever’s in charge. Whoever came up with this list knew very well who sits inside the palace and who holds it up. If seventy came up in your dream, there was a question of power. The question the Smorfia leaves, with that crooked smile of its own, is which end of the ladder you were on: the top rung, or under the weight?
Everyday objects
chair
The place you take: rest, waiting, and sometimes the authority of whoever sits in it.
The entries the old Smorfia tied to 70, spelled the way they were back then.
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Money, power and work
Who decides, who pays, who rolls up the shop shutter in the morning.
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