Ten Tributes to Calvino Read Online Free

ever exercised any of your freedom. While our troops were away in remote realms, exporting the stuff, you just went along with whatever I said and everything they did. You might have protested, and thus kept your freedom fit, but you didn’t.”
    He shook his head ruefully and sighed deeply.
    “As a result, freedom in our land has withered away almost to nothing and will soon perish. We have now exported freedom to every other country in the world, and they are all free, but because you allowed freedom here to shrivel, I’m forced to add another name to my list of countries in need of freedom. Or rather, to remove a name, the only name, from the list of countries not in need of freedom.”
    “That’s right,” he added with an ironic smile, “our own nation is the last one to stand in the way of global freedom. It is imperative we become free as quickly as possible.”
    The crowd muttered uneasily and President Arbusto waited for several minutes before interrupting them:
    “Don’t worry, it’s not necessary to import that freedom from abroad. I don’t think we need to be invaded by foreign troops. Even though freedom here is almost dead, it is still strong enough for one final act, the act that will restore total freedom. We can invade ourselves! This is cheaper than asking troops from free nations to invade us. Our own troops are due home anyway. When they return we can surrender to them instantly. They may be too astonished to open fire.”
    The crowd settled down at this news.
    “Of course,” the President added, “the tyrant who currently rules our country must be overthrown. This is something I can accomplish right now, to save time. Stand back, please.”
    With a wild yell, he grabbed hold of himself by the collar of his own shirt and dragged himself to the edge of the balcony. But he wasn’t going to give up without a fight and he pushed back. The tussle went on for half an hour. The opponents were evenly matched. It was so confusing, the crowd couldn’t tell who was fighting for freedom and who wasn’t. Some cheered for both. The President bounced against the balustrade, stumbled from one side of the balcony to the other.
    Suddenly, he managed to get his hand on the back of his own head, and with a mighty effort, he flipped himself over the balustrade and into thin air. He plummeted in silence to the hard ground below. The crowd parted to let him through. When they surged forward around his leaking corpse, they saw an extended arm and clenched fist, though whether this was a salute of freedom or defiance, nobody could guess.
     

The City That Was Itself
     
    You have probably never heard of Itselfia, the city that evokes only itself. Few people go there these days. That is a shame because it is rather a pleasant place, full of little squares and gardens where the inhabitants gather to play music, drink wine and forget they are lost until the following morning. Even the ruler of Itselfia can sometimes be found wandering the open spaces, asking people for directions home. Once he lived in a palace and one day he might find it again. Until that moment he satisfies himself with cheap rented accommodation.
    All other cities like to dream of other cities. Itselfia does not dream or encourage dreams in its populace, unless those dreams are scenes identical to the scenes of daily urban life. Itselfia is unique. All cities are unique but the style of uniqueness possessed by Itselfia is wholly singular, for it has nothing to do with geography, architecture, the culture or character of its people. Itselfia may resemble other cities in certain aspects, the boulevards and parks and restaurants, but it refuses to acknowledge rivals. It is self-referential.
    Other cities give the impression of wanting to travel elsewhere but Itselfia prefers to be only where it is. It is satisfied but not smug. Consider a city such as London. A traveller may visit London and stroll down Oxford Street and thus be reminded of Oxford;