The Grand Hotel di Rimini

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The Grand Hotel, the fable of wealth, luxury, and Eastern magnificence. When the descriptions from novels I was reading were not stimulating enough to strike up enchanting scenes in my imagination, I conjured up the Grand Hotel, just like those shabby puppet theatres that use the same background for every situation... ... On summer evenings the Grand Hotel became Istanbul, Baghdad, Hollywood. On its terraces, protected by the dense curtain of plants, there were perhaps Ziegfeld-like parties in full swing. The naked backs of women could be spotted and to us they were gold, embraced by masculine arms in white tuxedos and on a scented breeze brief passages of syncopated music floated by, so faint...They were motifs from American films: Sonny Boy, I Love You Alone...", songs we had heard at the Fulgor Cinema during the winter and had then wailed for afternoons on end drinking Anabasi di Senofonte, staring into space, with a lump in our throats..."(Federico Fellini, "My Rimini)

The Grand Hotel, the fable of wealth, luxury, and Eastern magnificence. When the descriptions from novels I was reading were not stimulating enough to strike up enchanting scenes in my imagination, I conjured up the Grand Hotel, just like those shabby puppet theatres that use the same background for every situation... ... On summer evenings the Grand Hotel became Istanbul, Baghdad, Hollywood. On its terraces, protected by the dense curtain of plants, there were perhaps Ziegfeld-like parties in full swing. The naked backs of women could be spotted and to us they were gold, embraced by masculine arms in white tuxedos and on a scented breeze brief passages of syncopated music floated by, so faint...They were motifs from American films: Sonny Boy, I Love You Alone...", songs we had heard at the Fulgor Cinema during the winter and had then wailed for afternoons on end drinking Anabasi di Senofonte, staring into space, with a lump in our throats..."(Federico Fellini, "My Rimini)