As she was drawing up the Carta de Logu of Sardinia, I wonder if Eleonora d’Arborea thought about including that launeddas are sometimes made from flamingo bones;
that oysters have hair, which can be used to make clothing;
that sipping olive oil diffused with lentischio after olives and prosciutto is like breathing the crisp sea air off Stomach Ache island.
Did she map all the nuraghe, where the archeologists like to sit in deep conversation with Dionysus, drinking mirto all day long?
Did she know that the contemporary would sometimes wear a mask made from a bull clavicle or a plastic milk jug? Or that the mask was indistinguishable from the face itself?
Did she include the news signaled from the ancient lighthouses lining the coast: the invasion, the phantoms of Fertilia, the demolition of Arenosa Roma camp, how the olive trees are faring after the fire?
Did she include the sounding of the juniper-wood didgeridoo to the Phoenician boats passing by or the smell of fresh hay?
Did she ever wonder if the Madonna combing sand from her hair in the salon, who people say had been lost at sea for years, didn’t actually jump from the ship? “Cabussò!”
