It 's a strange day for me. Listening
Fabrizio De André "Effedi bad on my street " vol. 2. I am sad. Disappointed. Sometimes I feel invisible. Inside me is the strong desire to escape. I cry. For no reason. I can not explain my discomfort, I just know that I really want to give love and be loved the way I want. I can not wait any longer. I know that between words and deeds and thoughts on anything I prefer the former. I know that words between thoughts and deeds ... I have nothing.
is sometimes so strong a desire to feel good that I pretend to feel good. Salt is engraved in my memory ... memory ... drop of water that digs into my heart .
lucky that everything goes ... and life back to smile!
Self-defense and the bread of sincerity.
- What bread do you want? There is a Tuscan, Puglia, Turin, the power strip ... Ah, yes: well baguette!
- do not know, I like them all ...
- What is best sliced \u200b\u200bwith the Apulian or Tuscan?
- both are fine. Instead, I prefer it with Nutella strip.
- It is ciabatta.
They go to the cashier and pay, then go home. The hot air in the apartment embraces them as a nice hug after the chill of early March this Siberian. She does sit at the table and starts to lay. Pull the tray out of the place mats that her grandmother crocheted, combining colors in a rainbow unlikely unexpectedly successful. The dishes and takes them white, among biccheri, choose those with the glass, because there is delicate because the speech that they face. Mangiano scambiandosi poche parole e offrendosi a vicenda il cibo, trincerandosi dietro la cortesia.
- Perchè l'hai fatto?
- Perchè non avrei dovuto farlo? Era sembrata una buona idea all'inizio.
Sono arrivati al caffè e pure al dunque.
- Non hai pensato, nemmeno per un attimo, alle conseguenze?
- Sono stato egoista, lo so. E impulsivo. Mi è cresciuto dentro questo desiderio, tanto forte che mi è stato impossibile reprimerlo.
- Sì, questo lo posso capire, ma ho sempre pensato che alla base del nostro rapporto ci fosse la sincerità.
- Honesty, lies, truth, invention ... sometimes mixes everything so that you can no longer distinguish from each other.
- just do it right away the difference, do not you think?
lowers his head. You know that it is making itself felt guilty, is what he wants, anyway. Not only that would also embrace, or take it to blows. He can not decide. He feels he has to say something, but the words all die in the throat before going out. He gets up and starts clearing the table, in short there are only two cups with hot coffee inside.
- Of all the bread I ate, this was the most bitter and more sweet.
finally raises his head and looks into her eyes.
- you forgive me?
- Should I? But yes, I have already forgiven, I have forgiven from the first moment, despite the tears that you made me pay.
- I did not want.
- did not think it is more correct. But that's okay, really.
him to the door and greets him with a kiss on the cheek just mentioned. I heard her footsteps coming down the stairs, the gate closes. Go to the window and sees him move away along the pavement uneven. Did not lie, it really forgiven. In fact, it's never even been angry. You know what it can do the desperation for each other is a shroud, but the result is absurd that some action, rather than alleviate our pain, to include other finishes. There is no alternative, unless you implement the supreme self-defense tactics and delete all relations with our neighbor, every feeling.
three words in my head that alone explain as much as it is always difficult to say.
Complicated by all the words that define their meanings over time learned to try to away from the more obvious and predictable.
Where do you harbor? - Asked.
There is a good place to stop, so it is worth leave as little worse than you were / able to find and to be able to wake up remembering where you got asleep / e.
there. I could describe it in detail.
If I imagine it is like to go to rest and think away from it all, forgetting the little memories that still floats between atoms and lyophilized dusting your feet with no footprints, no gravity, no wind, no nothing.
Pure utopian illusion, stuff other times, when those ideas were born from cosmic interactions instead of jammed and rusted machinery.
I think. Face to face, I look up, lost forever in the usual place.
What happened? - Said
- The road would be this?
- The road is this.
He raised his head to look into his eyes: he was tall and even beautiful, and so reassuring Venetian!
Obviously he was not a gust of wind snatched the map of the city, but she let it drop and a distracted passerby to kick down the channel.
- Oh no, now what? I must now get me another card in Venice for ...
- The road is this - he repeated, taking her by the arm and dragging it off the bridge, coming out of the arcades.
- is there, see? - And pointed to the lagoon - just cross the square and then go to the right. There, the boats stop.
She clutched his coat:
- It's cold, for months now. - And turning again to his eyes: - The square is almost deserted and I ...
- Come on - he resolved, almost pushing it.
walked faster, leaving behind the basilica, bell tower, the banquet of a peddler, the few tourists, the ducal palace, the deserts of the bar tables.
berth in front of gondolas, dazzling reflections in the early morning, it hangs, in unison, as if obeying a silent command.
- I want to stay here - she sighed, crossing his arms.
- Line 1, from that pedestal, leads to station - he said.
- Only until Monday - she said.
He took her by the shoulders, peering and asked:
- Why?
She struggled:
- for this night.
- I do not know.
- Not even you.
He hesitated
- And then?
She seemed certain:
- And then, the boat number 1.
No other words were necessary. Both were thrown into the lagoon is superfluous.
- Come on - he shouted running towards the jetty. Two words exchanged on the fly with a gondolier, a smile now and then, holding out his hand to help:
- Sali, come on.
While the gondola gliding on the water, an application affiorava tra i pensieri di lui, che a voce alta:
- Che cosa è successo – domandò - dove ti porto?
- A casa – pensò lei, restando in silenzio.
Nessuno dei due poteva immaginare il seguito, ma non aveva importanza.
Al momento, quella era la strada.
Avevano inseguito l’auto bianca fino all’incrocio di via De Amicis e subito dopo l’avevano persa. Suddenly the car was like evaporated before their eyes. The pupils had seen the flashing right well orange and dark just embarked on the road, they were not there and that white reflection before rushing at breakneck speed. It took only a split second, a blink of an eye and the white car disappeared from their sight. There were no side roads or tracks for suspecting a hidden access. Run a few yards they realized that the road did not lead to anything, had no background, a dense forest prevented continuing. No one in the state of consciousness, he would penetrated at that time and perhaps even in broad daylight. At that point they were certain. Just stopping time, a fraction of a second before, they could store the information needed to confirm the suspicion of a metamorphosis subconscious can bring anyone over the barrier alpha. But nothing and no one could go back in time, no one and nothing could change what had already happened before their eyes.
These are the stories came hours after the game suggested in recent weeks ... Thank you and there is room for everyone ... (In fact I would want to choose one word to ricominciare__ story, write a poem, choose three words, but I would not write a racconto___ take you too far ... :)
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