La historia de Lorenzo no es solo la biograf�a del hombre que ayud� a Primo Levi: es el relato de una humanidad deshumanizada en la que es necesario hacer una elecci�n moral.
Y yo le dije: «Mira, te est�s arriesgando al hablar conmigo�.
Y �l respondi� «No me importa�.
En Si esto es un hombre, Primo Levi escribi� «Creo que es a Lorenzo a quien debo estar vivo hoy�. Pero, �qui�n era Lorenzo? Lorenzo Perrone, que as� se llamaba, es la pieza del puzzle de la biograf�a de Primo que nos faltaba por conocer: un alba�il piamont�s que viv�a frente a la valla de Auschwitz III-Monowitz. Un hombre pobre, casi analfabeto que durante seis meses llev� a Levi un plato de sopa cada d�a para ayudarle a compensar su desnutrici�n en el Lager. Y no se limit� a ayudarle en sus necesidades m�s concretas: fue mucho m�s all�, arriesgando incluso su vida para permitirle comunicarse con su familia. Cuid� de su joven amigo como s�lo un padre podr�a haberlo hecho. La suya fue una amistad extraordinaria que, nacida en el infierno, sobrevivi� a la guerra y continu� en Italia hasta la ag�nica muerte de Lorenzo en 1952, doblegado por el alcohol y la tuberculosis. Primo nunca le olvid� hablaba a menudo de �l y puso a sus hijos nombres en recuerdo de su amigo.
Este libro es la biograf�a de una de una de esas personas que viven sin dejar, aparentemente, huella ni recuerdo de s� mismas. Pero que, bien mirado, son la verdadera piedra angular de la humanidad.
ENGLISH DESCRIPTION
Lorenzos story is not vente only the biography of the man who helped Primo Levi: it is the tale of a dehumanized humanity in which it is necessary to make a moral choice.
And I said, "Look, youre taking a risk by talking to me."
And he said, "I dont care."
In If This Is a Man, Primo Levi wrote, "I believe it is Lorenzo that I must be alive today." But who was Lorenzo? Lorenzo Perrone, as he was called, is the piece of the puzzle of Primos biography that we have yet to know: a Piedmontese bricklayer who lived in front of the fence of Auschwitz III-Monowitz. A poor, almost illiterate man who for six months brought Levi a bowl of soup every day to help him compensate for his malnutrition in the Lager. And he did not limit himself to helping him with his most concrete needs: he went much further, even risking his life to allow him to communicate with his family. He cared for his young friend as only a father could have. Theirs was an extraordinary friendship that, born in hell, survived the war and continued in Italy until Lorenzos agonizing death in 1952, bent by alcohol and tuberculosis. Primo never forgot him: he often spoke of him and named his children in memory of his friend.
This book is the biography of one of those people who live without, apparently, leaving a trace or memory of themselves. But that, on closer inspection, are the true cornerstone of humanity.