But that wasn’t the difficulty: the hard part was transporting it down to the Earth. So this paste, after it was collected, had to be refined, filtered. In the fermentation (which took place as the Moon passed over the expanses of hot air above the deserts) not all the bodies melted some remained stuck in it: fingernails and cartilage, bolts, sea horses, nuts and peduncles, shards of crockery, fishhooks, at times even a comb.
Not in the pure state, obviously there was a lot of refuse.
You had only to dip the spoon under the scales that covered the Moon’s scabby terrain, and you brought it out filled with that precious muck. It was composed chiefly of vegetal juices, tadpoles, bitumen, lentils, honey, starch crystals, sturgeon eggs, molds, pollens, gelatinous matter, worms, resins, pepper, mineral salts, combustion residue. It formed in the crevices between one scale and the next, through the fermentation of various bodies and substances of terrestrial origin which had flown up from the prairies and forests and lakes, as the Moon sailed over them. Moon-milk was very thick, like a kind of cream cheese. We went to collect the milk, with a big spoon and a bucket. Now, you will ask me what in the world we went up on the Moon for I’ll explain it to you. Seen from the Earth, you looked as if you were hanging there with your head down, but for you, it was the normal position, and the only odd thing was that when you raised your eyes you saw the sea above you, glistening, with the boat and the others upside down, hanging like a bunch of grapes from the vine. Yes, the Moon was so strong that she pulled you up you realized this the moment you passed from one to the other: you had to swing up abruptly, with a kind of somersault, grabbing the scales, throwing your legs over your head, until your feet were on the Moon’s surface. I always chose a scale that seemed fast (we climbed up in groups of five or six at a time), then I would cling first with one hand, then with both, and immediately I would feel ladder and boat drifting away from below me, and the motion of the Moon would tear me from the Earth’s attraction. We had taken the measurements carefully (we didn’t yet suspect that she was moving away from us) the only thing you had to be very careful about was where you put your hands. In reality, from the top of the ladder, standing erect on the last rung, you could just touch the Moon if you held your arms up. The story itself is an absolute gem, with passage upon passage of breathtaking language emanating pure whimsy: This exquisite animated short film by Israeli children’s book author and illustrator Shulamit Serafy brings Calvino’s short story The Distance of the Moon to life with uncommon enchantment - please enjoy.
#Italo calvino distance of the moon how to
Italian writer Italo Calvino (October 15, 1923–September 19, 1985) - who originated these fourteen timeless definitions of what makes a classic and had some wonderful ideas about how to lower one’s “worryability” - remains one of the most beloved authors of the twentieth century.
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