To talk about Nicola Abbagnano means in a certain way to talk about Santa Margherita Ligure and Portofino, the cities he chose as his second home and for which he demonstrated his love to the point of leaving in writing his wish to be buried there.
Abbagnano was a swallow who returned to this city every summer from the fog of Padania to rejoice over the sea, the green of the hills, the climate and perhaps even of that unforgettable sunset of Portofino that Andrè Gide called I’heure bleu (the blue hour).
A magic moment, it lasts only a few moments in which the whole environment, including the air, turns a tender blue, a poetic atmosphere that Abbagnano certainly enjoyed.
He, who vibrated with a gentleness that was expressed in his clear eyes full of light, and a smile sketched on his lips.
Observing him, with his refined and good natured countenance, he seemed a poet, a dreamer more than a philosopher, immersed in the severity of his discipline. And yet, a poetic vein runs through all his work.
In an interview published ten years ago in Santa Margherita Portofino, he was asked if he fit more optimistic or more pessimistic. To which he responded, Like everyone with good sense I make an effort to be a realist and I say to myself ‘Let’s try to see where the dangers are and where the good things are. Let’s direct our efforts towards the positive elements in life.
