Nothing Above

ISBN: 0595196926

Author: Levati, Sandro

Condition: New

Review Sandro Levati's Nothing Above is a compelling and unique story that reveals how one's imperfections are one's greatest opportunity. -- Midwest Book Review, December 2001 Product Description An inspirational encounter with a character whose stories and words challenged reality. Born with no wings, he reached heights nobody has ever reached before. A powerful little story that explores our nature of thinking beings and touches the more profound sense of life. From the Publisher A story about the power of imagination. An inspirational encounter with a character whose stories and words challenged reality. Nothing Above is a powerful little story that explores our nature of thinking beings and touches the more profound sense of life. From the Author "Writing has been part of my life since I was sixteen-seventeen. At the beginning it was just a way to take note of ideas and thoughts. There was no elaboration of any kind. Ten years later is when I started to develop ideas into short stories and fairytales about imaginary characters and spaces. About the Author Born in Parma, Italy, Sandro Levati moved to the US in 1998. Since 1989 he has been writing short stories, always searching for new ways to express his creativity. This is the first story he has decided to publish. Excerpt. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. They regurgitated the food into his throat, and they were already gone into the delicate blue on the green and the deep bluesoft flight of silent wings. In obedience to the programming of nature, the others had abandoned their nests and were experimenting themselves in the boundless space of the sky. If he had been able to fly, perhaps he would not have tried to understand their flight. But he was born without wings, and leaning on the lowest part of the cliff, he watched them as they glided and circled up thereunaware of movements that were every day more predictable to him. After it absorbed all the heat, even the rock became cold and like the ending of a very long day, all was slowly fading. You don't see where they come from. It picks them up in its delicate flow, and for a moment those distant seem close and are united with the others, with the strong, the weak and the near. After a while, you hear other noises you are not sure are real. They are like the voices of living secrets, and everything is blended into one sound you don't know where it is, and yet is anywhere. Sometimes it is so powerful, and everything is shaken and folded up, and it staggers. The leaves, the treesnothing seems to withstand its strength. But at the end, when its imperceptibly light puff is indistinct air again, you realize that after having been bent to the limit of their resistance, even the slenderest stems are unchanged. The other things have just changed places. As he landed on the sand, he felt no pain. Walking with his funny way of walking, he advanced in that space of sand and rock.