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What a day!

Sometimes it happens that comes in some days that we unload outside, but inside you reload, some days they are worth - in their full explosive - more than many mediocre week:
a day, in some ways, that is life.
Why would you want that your life was like that day, but perhaps also because when you close your eyes and the clock tells you that you are awake for almost twenty-four hours, feeling that life, you have really nothing to ask.
What then, in practical terms "the thing" could be summed up in four or maybe five times: show on Giancarlo De Carlo, the stage Ciclofficina , to ride through Rome traffic (for the connoisseurs: " Critical Mass"), hit and run the anti-G8 march, concert-tribute to Fabrizio de Andrè to community center Factory, and (hydro) massage night dream ... with eyes half-open. But these are only
words, boxes full, even overflowing content (almost) indescribably alive, colorful, and even buttons in my heart (and on my lips - with the legs because of the pedaling mileage - are still aching because of the constant smile which were unable to help but keep on your face, all day).
been there, you know all those people - those with official handshake, even if only by those who laugh a little 'forced and fleeting in the effort to climb (or URL assault Indian subways rumbling inside) , seeing people for the first time in your life, and are confident that surprised-pleased, in part, was a bit 'like looking in the mirror, having lived through the movement of your body in its anatomic integrity (before), and (after ) as a molecule of a huge body and knows how to button to be a bike parade, or a public concert that whispers to-listen-sing songs that his heart has always known, and later still feel lost, their bodies in massage and warm scented bath, and then in the flesh trembling and excited, and then in fresh linen-earned rest - and have shared all of this, with the right person with whom you wanted to share a day like this ... this, finally, can only show you the sense of things. Or - perhaps almost better - simply lull my desire to find a way, to things. Just add
dissecting the eyes of others (and confirm its through these words) the quiet pride against the person who takes the show on Giancarlo De Carlo, created it from nothing (Even if an idea is never "nothing"), wanted it with soul and heart, and patience (in the organizational meetings) and legs (in traveling here and there in search of material) and eyes (to see, in reading) and mouth (in the telling). It does not change the world (or maybe just change mine) tell of frenzied Seven, one of the boys Ciclofficina that, with thin legs by shorts with side pockets, finger-rolls cigarettes about as fast as his irresistible eloquence, frantic running between spanners, allen , bolts, wheels, saddles and handlebars. Not to mention, during the Critical Mass afternoon, the sea of \u200b\u200bcolored backs and heads "height bicycle "in front of my eyes, along roads bounded, more than anything else, the faces of pedestrians and motorists wonder: forced to surrender - the latter - to the massive surprise effect of pairs of wheels without wheels, moved from the position of many legs cheerful, rather than energy, kinetic synergy produced. And, many cyclists a bit 'different and equal, there was the magic of lost and found constantly the same smile, and rediscover too ' it a little 'equal and a bit' different, but still beautiful.
will not say nothing, I repeat (with little conviction) had found that morning a map of Rome on the ground, and her collection Pocketed as if it were more spontaneous gestures, and then rediscovered myself to use it several hours later, when I smile and then we decided to break away from the hubbub of the ringing Critical Mass to try to intercept the march against the G8 (and then ... noted with surprise that after a simple crossing a bridge over the Tiber River - coming out in Piazza Navona - there we are seen arriving meeting after a few minutes). "What a coincidence!" I said, with even less conviction, given that in this day as perfect as the circles of our bicycle wheels, it seemed all done on purpose to feed my belief that everything happens by chance. As
una goccia di gelato che va a macchiare sempre lo stesso punto della maglietta.
Poi, piano piano, il sole è nascosto oltre l'orizzonte del Tevere, e l'ha fatto anche lui in modo pigro e stanco, forse appagato dalla pedalata con la quale ci è stato a fianco per tutto il giorno. La notte è quindi scesa melodica come le canzoni di De André , ascoltate a pochi metri dal palco, e si è stesa sulle nostre teste fresca e delicata, come un lenzuolo pulito quando lo si spande sul materasso.
Ed è il momento che la notte scenda qui, nelle mie parole, perché é giusto che il resto rimanga al buio. O, al massimo, a lume di candela.

"Nella vita accadono cose che sono come collegamenti, sta you believe it signs or coincidences "I said a few days before that person, and must myself out just fine, linear and smooth, as she believed that I was quoting someone.'s day yesterday - is that has tipped the balance toward the "signs", whether it simply (and temporarily) quench my thirst for search - I had to say "here is-the-life-that-I would." And it is in the discovery of this desire, that the "e" of "sign" stops granted only half, and shared a hug, turns into "or" dream ".

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I'm walking on sunshine. Chasing

And then Luke Sacchiero , for three days with the 27 years on the rump, while filling his head with the new album Green Day (via-phone shot directly to damage of neurons), turns out for the interview tomorrow at Ogilvy only ten minutes walk from home (since there is a link in a straight line, otherwise it would have been enough five).
on the outcome of the other interview - what to 'Infinity - still nothing but a phone call in which something is declared as "non-us-we-forgot-to-you." It took to get this to Ogilvy, do not say a kick in the ass, but at least the chance to training in the past for the right person (s able a farle piacere i miei lavori); nonché - una volta stabilito un contatto - c'è voluta tanta diplomazia epistolare (by email) per gestire una stretta marcatura senza però far sentire il proprio fiato sul collo. Anche se ho dovuto auto-ricordarmi spesso di "lavarmi i denti", lì dove il fiato sul collo è risultato inevitabile.
Percorrerò un tratto d'asfalto che scende dolce dal mio condominio, e che poi risale un po' più ripido dopo un curvone il quale - domattina - si prospetta assolato e cinguettante. E io, levigando i pensieri passi dopo passo, lo prenderò come un buon auspicio.
E' una strada conosciuta alla perfezione, visto che è stata percorsa e ripercorsa decine di volte, essendo l'abituale prima parte delle mie uscite da runner , in quei periodi in cui le partite di calcio/etto/otto latitano dal calendario.
Dovrà essere un passo sereno e cadenzato, il mio, poiché la mia altissima propensione a sudare, il sole quasi estivo delle 11 del mattino, e l'ingombrante presenza della "camicia da colloquio", potrebbero rompermi le uova nel paniere (e mai metafora - per la vischiosa sensazione di appiccicume - potrebbe esser stata più azzeccata).
E mi auguro che sia altrettanto sereno e cadenzato anche il mio passo verso il futuro in generale ( wow ! la metafora della camminata verso l'avvenire non l'aveva mai usata nessuno... te lo meriti proprio, that place by junior copywriter to Ogilvy !).
I'll try to put more space as possible, more possible colors, sounds and smells as possible between me and what he still calls me behind my back, and I can not not listen. But I do filter in your ears more and more aware that that call does not come from a real voice, but from the sadness of my heart that knows that voice perfectly, and that sometimes deceives me to delude himself.
And, by the purifying of walking, there is a 'pilgrim that idea - fomented by the previous novel by Enrico Brizzi - becomes increasingly concrete nei miei discorsi per questa estate (sperando che i miei futuri compagni di viaggio siano abbastanza matti da sostenere il loro stesso "ok, facciamolo!"). Ma, un po' per scaramanzia (visto l'elenco dei miei ultimi non-viaggi: Venezia, L'Aquila, Ferrara, Tagliacozzo, Bruxelles), un po' perché l'idea è chiara ma le sotto-idee sono ancora tutte da delineare (tempo a disposizione, punto di partenza, livello di entusiasmo&pazzia degli altri camminatori), direi che al momento mi limito a lasciar correre la fantasia attraverso immagini, senza la briglia di parole organizzatrici.
Oggi pomeriggio, viste le abbaglianti previsioni meteo, e in previsione di tutte quelle altre camminate, sono in ballo due passi al Circle of Artists, through the various stands of Market Vintage ( sms- gathers followers just sent, awaiting response). The goal is to get a laugh at no cost (even at the cost 1 euro) in the presence of cartoon characters diquandoeravamopiccoli . But - here I declare with utmost honesty - I do not know if the material in front of Spider-Man and / or Tiger Man I can not put hands in their pockets. Maybe it could be a consolation prior, if the interview goes tomorrow more or less "as" .

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slowly

in frustrating limbo caught between the adjective "degree" and "unemployed", load waiting for answers to send cv- and interviews, full of free time (which I think is "lost"), and guilt to do even part of the "backpack" on the shoulders of mom & dad, I find myself with many hours difficult to manage.
days are all to create and fill hour after hour, sometimes days trudging leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeente , but often run fast, so fast-fast-fast new faces that overlap with one another, tant 'is that often come to lie on the bed and, in summary, is likely to remain with the uncertainty that new boyfriend or new girlfriend that there really or are you a mental creation produced by God knows how many new faces, summarized for convenience in a single male face and one female face.
other day, even meteorologically : When is the rain you can sit in front of us and meditate, or run in during a game, making you kick your right ankle and getting free, the next day upon awakening, a "reserve malleolus" right next to what you gave natural selection (after five days of swelling, the foot is coming back to take his usual, battered appearance) and when it's sunny you can lean on the balcony to smell the summer, close your eyes and imagine lontana all'orizzonte, ma comunque in arrivo, e - nel silenzio del condominio in tarda mattinata - assorbire la sicurezza del sole sulla pelle, nel sangue e nel cervello... oppure puoi tuffarti nel caos allegro, polveroso e fumoso del Forte Prenestino , se è il primo maggio, col Santo, efficiente roll- machine , come fedele spalla da prendere a pacche amichevoli (a volte riversandoci dentro - in quelle pacche - più malinconia di quanto vorresti concedere a te stesso); ma puoi anche condividere un pezzo di prato del Forte con Lorena&Silvia, le "cugine Tao" (Lorena scura e caciarona , Silvia chiara e riservata). E, una volta lì, appositamente oiled with lager, you can lose yourself in deliciously faces - human and canine, both without a leash, and in some cases frighteningly similar to each other. And laugh and dance and laugh and dance and laugh and dance, and he still has the will - once back in the car on the way back - to sing out loud, if the radio is the right song .
In any case, it is a period strange, this, for the amazing coincidence of painful situations, unexpected problems that involves - customization for everyone - me and my friends.
I would like them to be my outlet, but often can not. I would like to be their outlet, but often can not.
A volte - in improvvisi momenti che sembrano prendere il sopravvento - per non ascoltare i rimbombi nella testa, provo riempire il cranio di energia in musica, e i Dropokick Murphys , recente scoperta celtico-punk, si stanno rivelando in questi casi un ottimo rimedio.
Per tutto il resto, la crosta si sta riformando, e prima o poi si seccherà e cadrà, lasciando spazio a nuova pelle... che provvederò al più presto ad abbronzare dal mio balconcino assolato.
Sto riprendendo confidenza con le mie cose , anche se forse - prima di riuscire a passare una tranquilla serata con me stesso, così tranquilla che potrei portar mi al cinema and to offer me after a beer at the pub - there's still a bit 'of rain in which to meditate or run, there is still some' sun to be absorbed, there is still some knowledge to be explored. But if
inquestoperiodo also Green Day - after four years since their last album - it will release a new May 15 (just one day after my birthday), I want to take with a sign: it means that everything, big or small, has a strange cyclical, repetitive in appearance, but in fact never equal to itself. And that - at times for survival, sometimes with passion - always pointing forward.

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Attending, from your balcony, the roar dense, airy and clean for a time you expand your mind. Because everything is so still and compact - the white of the sky and lush green foliage and lawns - and yet so excited and propped up by the rain. You open up your thoughts, then, but the breaths - fresh, nose and lungs - and eyes - hypnotized by the water that remains invisible in contrast with the sky, and then take filamentous forms when the fans from background the nearest trees or some faded building in the distance.
swell the meadows - the drops - leaves glide and bounce off the long, dark wood of the branches, make it shiny asphalt, remain outstanding on the needle tips pine as the heads of many matches. And if you do not know the sound of the water is the breath of heaven or earth, or maybe it's damp and cool meeting of two breaths. Like a kiss.
I do not want to miss any of it, that thanks to his fake-repetitive challenges you to seize the moment different, but at the same time making you realize that comforts you - after all - you can not and will never be able to grasp everything that is often the case, for you to choose a certain number of drops: up to you to follow with the eyes or ignore them and let them fall on deaf ears, thinking that there will be others better. But when you have so many drops similar to each other, look for the best drops may keep you sitting for ever to watch a time that is more in you than in front of you. And the filaments of water become the bars of your cage. I would like to speak
let the storm, put the notebook in the rain and wait for him to fill these pages with its transparent ink. Probably the words dissolve, pulirebbe the paper as it does with the air and the colors.
Maybe that's the message of the storm.

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tralalalalla tralallaleru

An honest man, a good man, fell madly in love
tralalalalla tralallaleru

of one that did not like anything.

said to take me tomorrow
tralalalalla tralallaleru
said take me tomorrow
the heart of your mother for my dogs.

He went by his mother and killed him,
tralalalalla tralallaleru
tore the heart out
and his love returned.

It was not his heart, he was the heart,
tralalalalla tralallaleru
was not enough horror,
wanted another proof of his blind love.

said to love if you love me,
tralalalalla tralallaleru
said love if you love me,
the four veins cut wrists.

veins he cut his wrists,
tralalalalla tralallaleru
and it flowed like blood,
running wild on her back. The

she said, laughing loud,
tralalalalla tralallaleru
gli disse lei ridendo forte,
l'ultima tua prova sarà la morte.

E mentre il sangue lento usciva,
e ormai cambiava il suo colore,
la vanità fredda gioiva,
un uomo s'era ucciso per il suo amore.

Fuori soffiava dolce il vento
tralalalalla tralallaleru
ma lei fu presa da sgomento,
quando lo vide morir contento.
Morir contento e innamorato,
quando a lei niente era restato,
non il suo amore, non il suo bene,
ma solo il sangue secco delle sue vene.

(Fabrizio De André - Ballata dell'amore cieco)

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Two days after sending the resume.

La sede dell'agenzia Infinity è un maestoso casale che sonnecchia tra alberi, prati e rilassanti sonorità naturali, nascosto nella campagna della periferia romana: l'ingresso sbuca all'improvviso, sulla via Flaminia direzione Terni. Una volta spalancate le inferriate del cancello, la facciata del casale ti osserva da lontano, mentre ti avvicini - con una certa soggezione - sul dritto sentiero in ghiaia.
Ma di tutto questo mi sono potuto accorgere con molta più tranquillità al momento della seconda selezione del colloquio d'assunzione. E, poiché una seconda selezione, prevede l'esser riusciti a passarne una prima, il mio primo approccio con l'atipica sede dell' Infinity was more or less like this: "ok, it seems anything but an advertising agency, then it means that the agency guy who kindly offered to pick me up in the car at the train station" Montebello , "he is cordially kidnapping. And most importantly, I made the commitment we have to let them see that (without a car, as the younger brother that morning claiming he had seized the priority of a university exam) to get here - to kidnap me - I took the metro B Laurentina to Terms the meters A from Termini to Flaminio and, on a rickety train Roma-Viterbo, I autodeportato to station Montebello , right in the face of Prima Porta cemetery. "exiting the station, I found myself in front of the big empty parking lot (h.10: 30) and, apart from the lazy brown in the sun of those involved in surveillance of the station, I almost had to admit to myself that there was more to life cemetery just beyond the perimeter wall.
then put the foot for the first time in the agency - with input detection Fingerprint (which will be the next move, a top secret contract that will self-destroy after 10 seconds of the signature?) - I found myself face to face with a series of harmonious contrasts generated by the encounter between the style calm and elegant interior of the house (wood, wrought iron decorations, coffered ceilings) and the young age of people who worked there inside; between glance locations of technological pc and impact graph generated by irreverent (read "genius") posters on the walls, designed, created and produced by ' Infinity : "put yourself comfortable! "suggested a picture of an electric chair," open up to new experiences "specify the image of a dissected frog, with the innards on display. Then there was only time to
- chat with boy who had the interview after me, and who, like me, was presented with thoughtful advance;
- do the interview with Elisha 's Infinity and tell "the story of my life in twenty minutes";
- conclude the interview upstairs with Laura, the creative director, and tell the story of my life in ten minutes ";
- finally finding myself, still dazed out on foot on Flaminia (to the station), where there are no sidewalks and cars rush past you in less than two meters, and where this is your chance to see "the story of your life in five seconds." Two days later
Elisha contacted me, telling me that I was chosen for the second selection of the interview.
I resubmitted the sight of the big house this time own car and autorassegnato to go hundred and eighty degrees GRA to a crawl. Against all expectations, the GRA was deserted and the interview was Tutt 'only "interview" each of the six selected, closed with others in the meeting room waiting for something , he immediately felt a kind of competitor realityshow . Given the location, he could think of being in a house of Big Brother lost it The Farm. I do not know how to read or write (so to say for someone who is a candidate to the interview as copywriter), I began to scrutinize the ceiling looking for cameras.
Look at you, I thought, if the first interview of my life I have to be taken or sent away by a televoting ...
The minutes are spent tens, talk about each other's lives of six of us have slowly exhausted, when in the room, suddenly appeared a man- Infinity (not having a uniform or a particular color of skin, say, purple: he simply had a badge with the logo of 'Infinity on the jacket). Equipped with a presenter folder, it was shown immediately friendly and youthful, with jeans, sneakers and jacket. Indeed, most would say that youth ggg iovanile to make the idea. Most, this is its name, began with making loose and smiling, saying: "Now I would like that you could speak a bit 'of yourself, among yourselves." Each of us has nodded a bit 'of embarrassment: a little' because the sight of a man Infinity (the man who probably would decide our future work), but because each had the same thought in his head "But actually talk-between-us is what we've done so far ...". The new
chat - run by Massimo and patient as a dynamic talk-show host (which is always better than reality ) - has been fascinating is per l'effetto-novità sia per il tipo di "colloquio" in sé. Una cosa che, per tutte quelle due ore, se n'è rimasta nel mezzo tra la cena caciarona ad Ariccia e la seduta psicologica di gruppo: del tipo che se sul tavolo fossero comparse delle bottiglie di vinello rosso, sarebbe potuto essere il primo caso; sarebbe stato il secondo caso, invece, se Massimo, alla fine, avesse chiesto una parcella di xxx-cento euro.
Con la promessa di "sapere al più presto gli esiti di questo colloquio", noi sei abbiamo lasciato quel luogo così irreale, che nelle ultime luci del tramonto si presentava ancora più riposante. Caffé quickly to a nearby gas station (the only oasis in this case non-green, the green grass surrounding) right to send down a bit from the cup 'of reality so unusual after a job interview, and to be giddy about the latest impressions of the mouth.
After a quick exchange of contacts with the other five, I went back in the car, ready to take back the GRA and ready - this time more than before - to remain stuck in traffic: the GRA not bestows both outward and return. Rest assured that in either case, you care about.
Instead, a 20-minute semi-deserted street, I arrived home. It's not that I was really in a realityshow ?

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And to think that ...

"Lady L. yesterday's game for a workshop and abroad, including Argentina and Uruguay, will be gone a month. Now I'm on stage" heart and stomach a bit 'squeezed ... "(feeling with which, I think I have to live for the whole thirty days) but also "... I hope you have fun, to be useful and fill the memoricard of photos of his machine really cool to talk when we can laugh and reflect on his return. "Sure, I admit that this last part is a reflection of the enthusiastic early stage, almost zen, and that probably between twenty days I get to make me bloody marks on his arm to count the days that separate me from his back, sure, I admit that yesterday the hugs and the silent glances at the airport were cute, sure, I admit that this post is also the mileage manic demonstration of who is busy trying to keep his head more ... but basically - if the scars of the past remain as indelible marks in places that you can know you are - it is also because you learn to deal with events like in different ways , that would presume to define best . I'll wait Lady L. with the assurance of my love for her, and her for me. "

This

I wrote a little over a month ago, in a post dated March 8. What happened a month later, on his return, it was painful, unexpected, uncertain, surreal, fast, immature, superficial, disappointing, relapsed, absurd and unforgivable, (again) ... inabissante but no matter how many adjectives the time allow me to delete from this list, or those who force me to add. Everyone from here on, inexorably bottle in one word: "fine."

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few words (so many ... because if they are called, and many say it).

Those 30 seconds of vibration medium (in Rome), a bed - an inanimate object - which kicks in a lilting like riposseduto .
That quake was a kind of "connection" between me and them: the 150 deaths (207 to h.14: 08, nda), those injured in 1000, those not-so-many displaced persons. I felt a strange
empathy, a fear that the same but then it faded, because it did not happen here (more) nothing, and there it all happened.
For 30 seconds I've lived, that "everything", then I only saw what (I) could have happened.
Their despair could have been mine, their fear of mine, their my death.
This was only the deafening echo of a scream, but the voice that produced it was the same.
And you feel lucky, but at the same time guilty for waking deserved this chance.
Why me?
Why them?
E 'was a shock that we have enjoyed, but was also a shock that divided us from more than 150 "we" who had the only fault (?) Of being in a place where I was not myself.
A place not too far away, a place I could reach easily. So how can a voice with an echo.


No, you can not understand, I can not even understand.
I'm watching the interviews of people who lost family, friends, homes. Not even my tears and theirs are the same because I can "afford" not to understand, they are "forced" to accept.

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do re mi is the only one ...

Who has a highly oriented mentality cazzeggiano (like mine in general), or just a mental laziness that can not peel off (like mine on Monday morning), can be inferred that the lack of creativity the title tells you that the last events of this period are worthy of note ... music (because somehow related to music). And with this game of words to be sick, even I I immediately stopped to read, if I were not busy writing.
Or at least, to stay on, I'd play for the thrashing.
Italy is on the news that continues to wonder if Arisa - the winner Festival last Sarnemo - there is or there. To me, that very " sincertiàààà , a bit 'constructed as a character, it is. Basic fault: it intends to propose at all costs a woman with soap & water ways (in the balance between shyness and autism), made up so that even with the thinner skin could return "skin color". To request the confirmation Joker (by the way, a small digression, the Oscar posthumously to Heath Ledger is deserved: every time I see The Dark Knight bilayers black eyes just above the scars of the mouth I scramble the guts). The Ballad of
Arisa is still catchy and - though probably Joey Ramone (which is mitered at the time frantically from my stereo) must be turning in his grave fucking read a thing - let's say Perhaps my comment is highly partisan. The first time I heard this song, was a beautiful night of candles and blankets in the company of Lady L., just as Arisa was crowned in the penultimate evening of the Festival of Sanremo : singing tradition of the annual Italian music I, as a tradition, I did not see even with binoculars (the song of Arisa , in fact, I heard by chance on YouTube). In the year (dicono. ..) BONOLIS the Festival of Sanremo has been a great TV product, Obama has decided to block all forms of torture. It will be a simple coincidence or lack of new audio-video material with which to apply the punishment? A singer
committed, but that really needs very little effort to smile and think, is certainly Caparezza : his Roman leg of 28 February was a frenzy of rock- Electo - rap , colored strobe lights, costumes, antics, skits with the whole band, repartee with the audience, a way somewhere between the concert and the play, certainly facilitated by the synergy rap cadence of his beautiful, highly intelligent and sarcastic lyrics. I must confess that my admiration is absolutely genuine and heartfelt: I am not a relative of Caparezza are not a close friend of Caparezza , I have not been paid by Caparezza , and are not Caparezza . That said, I, the Holy and Julius said "the Millett " (because of that his former "Oh, I hunger I've got, if Famo 'na Millett the white pizza?") succeed we had a good time and not a little: we laughed, jumped, screamed so much that in the end, when we said goodbye to the machines back in the night full of silence and mist, we were so hoarse as to seem parodies of Marlon Brando in "The Godfather".
Tutt 'other music has been released to the Carnival Poggio Mirteto , primarily because the heavy rain has blocked many outdoor concerts (including one of the Sabina Ratti ... but how? The time - well armed with a T-shirt with logo "rat" you come to feel almost under the house, canceled the concert for a while 'to fucking rain?). Furthermore, the same rain has forced the other bands ( sorpattutto emerging from puddles enormous town square) to play in crowded mini-blinds pulled up at the last minute or in the back of pickup trucks volkswagen style, to open doors to the public. Tutt 'other music, so if open-air ballad in the chaos of forms, smiles, shouts, laughter, bright eyes, cheeks, makeup, colors, crazy costumes homemade (from the more botched than the most elaborate and valuable); Tutt 'other music, so if accompanied by the rhythm of the tribal groups of drummers, peddlers, and if overheated and flavored with rivers of wine flowing a little red' everywhere, excellent metaphor for the blood stirred up the revelers. I, Lady L., the great Max Mariani e Caru (Vale S e Vale P ci avrebbero raggiunto più tardi), il viaggio verso Poggio Mirteto , ce lo siamo fatti - come molti moltissimi - nel treno delle 12:58. In compagnia dei Puffi . E ci tengo a sottolineare che, lì sul vagone, la sbronza era ancora un lontano presentimento, i Puffi c'erano davvero: un gruppo d'amici geniale che aveva provveduto a comprarsi magliette celesti, pantaloni e zuccotti bianchi e trucco celeste per il viso. Il risultato finale di questi puffosi scalmanati - completato nel vagone ormai trasformato in "sala trucchi" - rasentava la perfezione... anche se una menzione particolare la darei a " Puffo giamaicano", con tanto di bandierone nazionale a mo di mantello e parrucca rasta sotto il cappello, e a Gargamella , con tanto di bastone e gatto Birba attaccato al braccio. Facebook , forse, provvederà a rendere eterna la bravura e la genialità del loro travestimenti. Fatto sta che, ormai praticamente circondati in carrozza da gente al trucco e da spirito di fratellanza infuso non ancora da vino ma dall'allegria dei colori, anche noi quattro, chiedendo in prestito qualche matita colorata, abbiamo deciso di mascherarci. Io - modestamente - armato di rosso, nero, bianco, specchietto e ispirazione, ho creato un capolavoro uomoragnesco sul mio viso, il viso dolcissimo Lady L. has turned into a cute romper and the great Max Mariani and Caru ... Perhaps there is no need to comment on the composition floreal - tribal - acazzodicane their facial decorations. Facebook , perhaps, will, disgraced forever.
While the flat white of the sky and the silence is typical of villages in the hill climb were provided to enhance the colorful fabrics and racket discharged a continuous stream of people arriving by train to Poggio Mirteto , shuttle service station / square country - perhaps to stay on with the party - proved to be a sort of "carnival joke": only tre autobus a fare avanti e indietro per gli otto chilometri di strada in salita a portare centinaia di ragazzi festosi che, dovendo sgomitare per conquistarsi un posto sulla vettura, ci hanno messo poco a diventare incazzosi. Unica nota stonata della festa, per sdrammatizzare rimanendo in tema musicale. Per il resto il vino, le pizze fritte salate e dolci, i panini con la porchetta, altro vino, la musica martellata sui tamburi e nelle orecchie (quest'ultima era una metafora, non che si fosse qualcuno che prendeva a bastonate la gente per creare nuove sonorità), insomma tutte 'ste fantasticherie ci hanno fatto rimbalzare fino alla sera con i sorrisi incastrati sulle facce (e lo stesso valeva anche per chi come Lady L., era mascherato da pagliaccio, e per all dressed up as Joker , who had a smile on her face painted already).
And now, what remains to be said that has to do with music, if not " Ramones, thanks to exist (they exist)!", Probably I would never be able to write this post for three consecutive hours, if my fingers did not ticking on the keyboard to the rhythm of your punk.
nothing remains of Music? Remains still, you know. And how if you know it. And the last place to put what you wanted to write first thing, you might fool someone else, but certainly not yourself. If we consider that 'I'm just you're pretty blog to read it, thou hast not really to deceive anyone.
What we talk about music then, if not " Dont ' cry for me Argentina ?!
Lady L. Yesterday she went to a workshop and abroad, including Argentina and Uruguay, will be gone a month. Now I'm on stage "heart and stomach a bit 'squeezed ..." (Feeling with which, I believe, I have to live for the whole thirty days) but also "... I hope you have fun, to be useful and fill the memoricard of photos of his machine of really cool when we can talk and laugh reflect upon his return. " Sure, I admit that this last part is a reflection of the enthusiastic early stage, almost zen, and that probably between twenty days I get to make me bloody marks on his arm to count the days that separate me from his back, sure, I admit that yesterday the hugs and the silent glances at the airport were cute, sure, I admit that this post is also the mileage manic demonstration of who is busy trying to keep his head more ... but basically - if the scars of the past remain as indelible marks in places that you can know you are - it is also because you learn to deal with events like in different ways , that would presume to define best . I'll wait Lady L. with the assurance of my love for her, and her for me. A statement
harping too? Be ', it is always music.




He said, "That the trip is good," she said
only "I will."

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Pena as pain, pain as punishment. Equally lovely

I think people make a great effort to keep quiet the itching hands against certain criminal acts, and against certain criminals.
And I want to be driven by simple currents that oppose the "Italian", "foreigners", "illegal" ... equations with many fashionable, cry (alarm, but especially in alarmism) as "illegal = criminal." I speak first of all men, of criminals.
The rest is superficial and misleading. The rest, according to me, plays into the hands of certain political maneuvers of those who cry "Watch out there !" pointing with his finger on one side, so everyone looks in the direction indicated, and may not notice what is going on behind them ... With 'sti pretexts nations are born, we have established leadership.
We are a nation of the mafia, this time to remember that "black man" does not necessarily Slavic accent or Maghreb, "the black man" can be anywhere because it is "man."
Returning to bomb in the speech, I too, because I do not want soaping of moralism and hypocrisy, I admit it - before the murder, rape, pedophilia - I feel the anger salirmi right behind the ears and, being at that height, with blur hot and corrosive liquid eyes. I would like to hit, hurt, revenge, scan to sound of kicks, punches and insults a clear concept "Who returns to the victim of your actions - be it murder, rape or pedophilia - that which has been taken away?"
In the first case, a life.
In the other two, a normal life.
I would like to see him suffer, bleed, give the legs, collapsing to the ground, spitting blood and crying for mercy and goodness knows how many other sewage intestinal ... and only then ask "And why did not you given your victims, pity? But because you were not able to go further and do not own your dirty act of shit? "
And in front of the silence of his answer, probably, began to hit him.
But then, not very easily, I have to stop the thoughts, to calm the breath and heart rate in the meantime there has been stormy. are forced to use your brain, because it is there to be used, not ignored when he speaks.
I find myself thinking, then, in the long term.
Yes, I think, because what in the short term would seem to me the "just punishment", I then discovered that in the long term would only be something sudden, brief, with a peak at the time, but then would not let trains and simply disperse over the years.
kill those who commit murder, in the long term, not the victim back to life. Far
suffer physically (read "beaten up") who does child abuse or rape who, in the long term, not ever compensate for the suffering of victims (which I do not think will ever, and with whom - I think instead - will be forced first or later to live with, and confined to a dark corner of their own).
Leaving aside the talk - perhaps the most sensible - that could do some of my friends graduated in law on the role of "corrective" and not "punitive" in prison, I'm here to scream - in silence of these lines and my chest - life in prison for one reason: long-term - although the comparison is faded and rough - what could unite the criminals with their victims is the loss of FREEDOM.
Sure, type of freedom taken away from a murder victim has a sharp, inescapable. Lasts forever. The
type of freedom of the child victim of violence (by age) and rape (by the act) is more subtle, psychological, full of echoes and thrills hidden. Anch 'it, in its way, it lasts forever.
The common denominator - the pain and punishment as the penalty as a punishment - so should be something that: 1
. endure forever;
2. reflects key philosophical and legislative crime with the punishment.
death sentence, in my opinion (the second "me" that is able to calm down and stop the launch - at least in his head - kicking and punching the criminal) could not be part of those measures "long term" in, slowly In these lines have come to understand the value. Sure, it would last forever, but it would act much like an angry son of compensation (in the short term!). "Compensate" Unfortunately, it is impossible from the outset: I repeat, a murderess not kill the victims back to life, to physical violence on rapists could take instinctive satisfaction in the short term, but in the long run do not ever erase the trace of violence suffered by victims.
are repetitive I know, are repetitive I know, I know it is repetitive, but rather to convince you, I'm trying to convince myself.
In any case, I know I speak with the mouth of someone who either first or second person has never suffered violence like that. Every now and then but I can not identify myself - having everyday circumstances where surprises are the victims - one of the many boys assaulted while perhaps are secluded in the car with the woman to cuddle. And then find themselves spectators of the rape of his girl.
The sense of helplessness and pain empathy for his woman invaded carnally and emotionally , I think it's something devastating and only remotely conceivable.
why probably speak to this type of mouth - with that of the "theoretical" and not the victim - is all too easy. But in other respects, it may prove even more useful .
If you are all right and spoke with the victim's mouth, perhaps in the world would increase the number of executioners, instead of reducing it. And so saying, I will not totally abandon or belittle the victim, I just try to break away from the "moment" that - emotional and angry - Tends to get caught in the physical reactions of that anger and quell'emotività.
Serve, resuming his speech, exemplary punishment that forces the criminal to live, although very "distant", with the most profound characteristics of the crime that he committed. So I confirm: it must be deprived of a certain form of freedom for the rest of their lives. Now, I'm not perfectly clear ideas about what life inside a prison, so I want to point out that these considerations are made means holding (and I hope to do it right), not as a kind of "holiday village "(at the expense of the state) just a little 'more gray and less exotic than those of brochure travel agencies.
That said, a "non-life" as one of the cell, and a clear mind to think of it (and possibly sadistic?), Is perhaps worse than death.
What is life imprisonment, then, without loopholes, concessions, various workarounds. The only penalty
discount at which these criminals have to learn to draw, in their captivity, is the forgiveness of their victims. Which it is not, legitimately, to arrive.
"Forever" is not too fair.

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promised

Here I am again to chase myself, in the sense that once again I find myself with a backlog of months to tell scary.
Last post update, in fact, dates back to September ... and already it was, in turn, a breath summary of my adventures sub-urban and sub-cutaneous (heart and brain area, as always).
encyclopedic view of the implications of recent months - long before you would ask to Methuselah to write his autobiography - I prefer to deal with all this training period without giving any information (except maybe in the next post, sparpargliando references here and there ... but probably would be just a commercial move to create curiosity and audience). Skip to footer
of all these months, on the other hand, can also be interpreted (nice excuse moral!) as a kind of self-awareness reached (specifically: my limits). In fact, it is useless for the umpteenth time I promise myself to recover the lost time in the next post ... If you already seventeen-year diociotto had already realized that " ... the" promised "are nothing but broken promises, delayed, seeking a second chance. And always manages to have a second chance ... .

short, when at stake is really something important, a new opportunity you can (must) grant, also hoping to receive it.
Il blog, però, è più che altro sfogo- cazzeggiante ...

E poi, anche se un po' indirettamente, quale modo migliore per parlare di me attraverso un blog, se non dimostrando il mio modo di essere attraverso il mio modo di trattare questo stesso blog!?
Ogni tanto mi perdo (e lo perdo) un po' per strada, ogni tanto sforno un racconto (vedi post precedente), ogni tanto mi carico di nuova voglia di ingozzare questo spazio di post, ogni tanto mi sovraccarico e mi esaurisco addirittura prima di aver scritto la prima lettera.
Però, comunque la si voglia mettere - che sia una tastiera di un pc , or rag paper found by accident in the pocket of jeans - I find myself always here.

Writing is a form of slavery that makes me free.

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(Story)

The alarm sounds, the feel, I sat up and do not open my eyes. Do not open my eyes because they are blind from birth, and I say this not to self-pity, but simply to show you that in my life I have never needed to open his eyes in these thirty-four years I learned to look at things for what they are. And, as you can see, even to make the easy irony of my congenital blindness. I do more for you, especially when vi trovate davanti a me: perché se vi rendete conto che per me è una cosa leggera, allora vi alleggerite anche voi, buttando fuori in un sospiro di sollievo tutta quell’aria di contegno che vi appesantiva i polmoni.
Perché una delle differenze tra me e voi, è che voi pensate alle cose solo quando le vedete, io ci penso sempre perché non le vedo mai.
Scusate lo sfogo, non è invidia, la mia: vi potrei invidiare quanto si può invidiare uno che parla il “ Cumanbese ”, quando in realtà non è mai esistita la popolazione dei “ Cumanbi ”.
Quindi non ce l’ho con voi, è che spesso di mattina la sveglia ti precipita addosso troppo early, especially when you did the night before a little 'late to the pub with friends, talking about football, women and work, between laughter and beer mugs.
You are amazed by such a normal part of a blind man? I will see .
To make you feel a little more normal for me that I could tell the evenings at the pub with friends also have a variety of flavors and unmanageable substrates that often fill my head and distract me : the smell of hot wood, the light that keeps you appiccicume the fingertips on the table, the taste of a po'aspro glass mug, the hot and salty fries coming from the kitchen or somewhere around, chats from other tables. These ultime sono le più magnetiche, ma non quelle un po’ caciarone e distorte di chi - per l’alcool o l’euforia del clima intorno a sé - ti frusta con le corde vocali. No, parlo delle chiacchiere più sommesse: quelle mi attraggono per la loro timidezza, per la loro fuggevolezza, come fossero custodi di verità accessibili a pochi. Tant ’è che spesso durante la serata - come ieri - qualcuno tra Luca e Danilo è costretto a riportarmi con i piedi per terra acchiappandomi per le orecchie. A volte metaforicamente, a volte un po’ meno.
Luca è alto (Come lo sai? La direzione da cui parte la voce quando stiamo in piedi), ha un modo di parlare che ti comes along with lashings of ups and downs, a breath of toothpaste ever know maybe because it has that taste of nicotine, especially for a fixed and short hair gel and hair. Yes, more than once I held her head while vomiting blood and alcohol in remote corners of the street and sour piss. Danilo, however, is what has always known that the lawyer would be great: When you were born in and slapped by the doctor to make sure she was crying, he - instead of whining - probably said "I denounce you." Barba always rasatissima (sweet gusts of dopobarda not tell you), always has a way of speaking that now comprises For years I suspect that you write speeches before leaving home.
Luke is terrified of marriage and seeking the love of his life, Danilo is married to Miss Danilo perhaps even before you know it.
And I am made to understand how I started to touch me as a boy, but unlike everyone else, I was not limited to the penis, I explored all forms of my body: I \u200b\u200bhave narrow shoulders, ankles, long a bacon that appears and disappears in inverse proportion to my beer steins, a nose a bit 'curved, pointed jaw and curly hair comb that I gave up ages ago.
all three work in the same bank: Danilo in the legal department, Luke at the counter, and I am a bit 'more behind the scenes, the hotline.
three of us have been friends for almost ten years, and - if we add the appearances every now and mom and dad (her soft, still warm as a freshly baked pie, but firmly in his pudgy, with the smell just mentioned that reminds me of musk and warm hugs for protection), I'd say this is all my life.
And now, instead of being here if I decide to talk to even stand up and start living it, I could not be late for work.
Sheets under the palms of my hands still give off my scent, but are slowly cooling down. I make three steps naked and shivering on the marble, although the window is closed, I feel leaked the draft landscape: little things, like a breath away. The open and a cold breath swells get the room of engines, horns, voices, footsteps and music that intertwine in unexpected combinations. Am referring to the same three steps back, my shins meet the edge of the bed, then I turn right and do the usual five steps to the bathroom. The tiles, in addition to the cold, still exude the scent of floral foam bath shower yesterday and mint toothpaste. I grab the knob plain tap water, pull it up and roar monopolize the water environment. For each lash I glacial self-inflicted, pulling across the skin reacts.
We're more awake, and tone in the room, walking distance to my right over the foot of the bed, coming to the cabinet. I open with a creak and streamlined - from this small gorge that breathes lavender, powder and plastic - do I extract a shirt, a tie, a dress and a pair of shoes. Of course, the choice of what you call "color" for me is completely random, then - if I come across the street, know that my color combinations are the result of compromises, sometimes contentious, between Luke and Daniel , in different fashion as in life. I, around the shops with them, I would spend hours listening to the slow, funny and very personal tone of their hot: Luca gets nervous increasing confidence as a parody of a buddy ; Danilo formality increases becoming a kind of sound human story titled "how to draw up a contract in five easy audiolezioni . Being
damn late, I have to skip breakfast, so I will spare amazing mental calculations to show that, after five years of life in the same apartment, I know of coping with a kitchen with refrigerator, cupboards, stoves, and prepare for trouble-free breakfast with milk, cereal and coffee in mocha. Although with a bit of regret, because one of the things that put me more in a good mood - even after sleepless nights and after quasi-alcoholic - is to fill my lungs with the warm aroma and a bit 'wooden coffee just did. I turn on all the senses, except one, of course.
In his pocket, the phone I propina yet another blast of Luke (I put "The Reckoning" by Vasco as custom ring tone), and it makes me understand that he is still waiting for the metro already a bit '. I consider myself a connoisseur of good music and not because it is non-blind person has a particular sensitivity acoustics, but want to make having to choose una suoneria diversa per ogni nome della tua rubrica telefonica?! Questo fino a quando non inventeranno dei mini-display in Braille...

Con Luca, come ogni mattina ho l’appuntamento fisso davanti alla stazione della metropolitana (dodici fermate e siamo al lavoro). Danilo preferisce assecondare i suoi tempi e i suoi orari, che non a caso si incastrano alla perfezione con quelli di Miss Danilo . Però, se non ci fosse lui nel nostro trio, io penso che andrei a sbattere in continuazione, e Luca peggio di me, nonostante il cieco sia io.
Davanti alla porta di casa, afferro il bastone bianco - che in realtà siete voi a chiamare così quando per me è solo un “bastone” - ed esco. Until a few years ago I had a guide dog, but the passes for all ages, Remo has aged before me and went away leaving me plenty of memories soft, affectionate, hairy, often damp. I liked him a lot of good, even if in the last years of his life - including cataracts and arthritis - I had more to do with guide dog with him.
- This time you've taken a much too convenient,
Luke's voice is a bit 'agitated and full of nicotine. He smoked a lot, me and his breath in his nostrils as you enter one of those corkscrew spiral, despite the cold I anesthetize a little 'nose.
- You know, the city is full of architectural barriers. - I smile. In the near-far
rumble of cars, motorbikes, trucks and buses, I feel Luke sigh:
- No, the city is full of Paraculo, including some with disabilities ...
- Calm, Luke, will not want to beat a person with glasses ... alone?! - Widen the system's smile and glasses on the humps of the nose.
- I'll hit you with your own stick! So you do the easy, not you introduce yourself at the counter ... I've got responsibilities that I ...
- Tonight at the pub on me.
- Ok, no longer angry with you. But now that we're late to three meters.
- Danilo , you must not take advantage of the fact that I'm blind and imitate the voice di Luca, tanto che sei maniaco degli orari alla fine viene sempre fuori...
Luca sbotta in una risata che tenta di contenere più che può per non darmi soddisfazione. Poi mi circonda il collo con il braccio – cotone pesante che ha vagamente quell’odore caldo di tintoria - e mi scrolla la testa come a sancire una specie di perdono paterno.
Ci incamminiamo per le scale e lui non molla la presa paterna: sono certo che la sta usando come scusa per aiutarmi a scendere. Nonostante lui sappia che me la posso cavare benissimo da solo, a volte non riesce a fare a meno di farmi indirettamente capire che posso contare su di lui. Questa gliela concedo mentre, scalino appiccicoso dopo scalino appiccicoso, ci intubiamo nelle profondità della fermata Stations.
entries at the bottom condense into rumble and those closest in a sizzling hasty chatter, there is a piece of music in the background most odious of those with whom I put on hold the phone bank, and the rhythm is punctuated by beeps less out of the turnstiles for access to trains. Everyone knows humidity, rubber, sweat, newspaper, and it seems that every time you smell will stick to him like the soles on the floors made (more) slip by a viscous film.
On the platform, Luke begins to talk about the game of Champion 'if, by its syncopated breath, I guess that is mimicking the same shots, and cross passages is talking about. I listen to him until he starts feeling on her left cheek as a swarm, a barely perceptible current of air, but more and more lively and warm. After about ten seconds, Luke interrupts his personal playing Champion 'if he says
- I hear the blast, coming on the tube.
- A yes, I too feel 'I hours me that you do see ... The metro
slows us down in front of a strong lament of brakes and grinding ferrous metals. With a snort amortized opens the door and in a few steps are surrounded by so many hips, elbows, breathe, more or less intense odor of skin, heat, air fresheners, more or less sharp, and voices, music croaking from readers mp 3, browsed pages or curled.
The train starts pushing me back I'm standing and those around me. Luke resumes his football record, but without the ability to mimic the movements of the players, stuffs the story in detail and at this rate, the game is talking about that I could have lasted two hundred minutes instead of the traditional ninety. Just outside the metro
comes out, I get in my face the sudden heat of the sun, and the pressure of bodies in the wagon, the spaces will be very hot now, and the first pungent odor of sweat were not slow in coming.
the fifth stop, Luke is yet engaged in a lunge on the wing right (in the seventh for the first time), yet to the sixth wing of crossing (his last chronicles more of the episodes of Holly & Benji ), the seventh stop the world around me stops.
My head gets stuck in a smell of a woman who is a natural scent, not sweetened by annoying essences pour femme : a strong smell, warm and fresh with a smell that melts into the nostrils so creamy. It is a smell at the same time is also a taste, a smell that comes through me and to the finger tips, filling the desire to touch, making them aware that the smell have to be associated with something smooth, round, morbido sì, ma anche elastico e sodo. L’odore raggiunge il suo picco nel momento in cui qualcosa mi sfiora la guancia: è poco più consistente dell’aria, lievemente filamentoso, riccio e gonfio. Sono i suoi capelli.

Il tocco in un niente si dissolve, e l’odore perde la sua intensità.

Luca si accorge solo dopo un po’ che il suo unico ascoltatore è altrove e, quindi interrompe la sua cronaca quando il cross di poco prima sta per incontrare la fronte dell’attaccante. Mi guarda e dice:
- Che c’hai? Sembra che tu abbia visto un fantasma! Il che è praticamente impossibile per almeno due motivi. Quindi perché fai quella faccia?
Io assumo un’espressione serious and reserved, I'm closer to Luke and, in a low voice, I ask:
- the case is passed to a rich woman next to me?
Luke's spend a few seconds to process applications that I think the absurdity of the sudden demand, and to look around. Then answers:
- Yes, it's sitting on your left a couple of meters away.
I'm in front of Luke facing away from the doors of the car, then I insist, in need of details:
- But it is sitting on the seat behind me, or those on the side to which I am facing.
- those on this side ... - Respond, then perhaps thinking that "this" is an adjective a bit 'vague for me, adds:
- That is, if you walk sideways like crabs to your left for a couple of feet, you will find face a. .. um ... navel.
The next question I have it almost on the tip of your tongue for a while ', because my head is screaming, hit by the smell. But it takes me a little 'more than you have to ask:
- She is?
Luke again uses some other infinite seconds to respond, and I get hot from the neck of impatience imagining him that if the team. I'm jealous.
- Carina - replies flat.
"How dare you downplay them saying it is simply cute!" I think, are already protected.
"I I hate them because you can watch the quiet here, as I see it I have to touch it. "I think almost at the same time, discouraged the idea of \u200b\u200ba world suddenly enemy, not at your end.
simply replies:
- Ah! - A bit 'stretched from braking to the Metro I bend slightly forward.
- Oh, is rising to exit the car, coming here ... turn around and tell her something - quivers Luke caught the elbow and trying at all costs to rotate it toward her.
- No, but ... How do I. ..
- From here she is here she is, behind you, turn around and say something before it comes out ... - Turns to me and whispers hundred and eighty degrees.
I am face to face with the smell, and then with her. I can hear frantic whispering Luke "by by by by by ...", I feel my heart beating in my ears splashing hot liquid from the tips to the lobes, I feel an emptiness of words in my head.
- Hello! How about a coffee before going to work? - Ask the hard, creating a sort of smile on my face. The smell fades
sucked from the air coming from outside and buried dozens of other odors. When I turn with resignation to Luke, c'quasi not need him to tell me "did not even turn ...", because they already know.

I never thought I would take it, and yet the smell has left its mark all along the path from the nose, I get to the head, and then its fingertips via the heart.
It is as if I had stuck to his nostrils stood between my nose and any other fragrance. As if he knew her, or if I can not breathe nothing but that part of her fading m'è remained inside.
By now, five days are sick and do not pretend that I'm going to work: the director of the bank which has the thought, Luke and Daniel a bit 'less. With the lawyer Danilo
I attached the phone just a few minutes ago:
- tonight if you want to step to you with aspirin and oranges for the juice.
- Dadilo , Orba sits ribasdi only du and bia Badre to gredire in sbremuda d ' Arangio ...
- Okay, but at least take an aspirin and go to club people on the street.
- Gos 'is Guesde ibbrovvizo sendzo ' s uborisbo bard udo doiozo GOME de? Ghe of zend bogo bede anghe du ?
- Ok, come non detto... Ora ti saluto che mi aspetta una giornataccia . Ci sentiamo stasera, riguardati!
- Di rigordo ghe zono gieco ...
- Ok, attacco se no non la smetti più. Ciao.
Nonostante a telefonata conclusa io sia stato assolto dalla Legge, alla fine mi sento colpevole. Non tanto per aver mentito al capo e soprattutto agli amici, ma perché in realtà sono ormai quattro giorni che prendo la metro sempre alla stessa ora di quel primo giorno, alla ricerca di quell’odore.
Perché dall’esatto momento in cui l’ho assaggiato, vivo per quell’odore.
E come la mattina mi chiudo alle spalle the front door, besides being blind, deaf, also became a frantic tachycardia because my ears clogged, disoriented in the middle of the road, totally blowing my mental calculations. And they are forced to wander until the meter really blind, anxiously waving his stick along the sidewalk I walk almost ten years.
Today: road, metro station, the tunnel booming, the cold air in the cheeks shrink, the traffic chaos that shoots you in the ears from several fronts, smog bittersweet, the rumors about rumors about rumors .. . I know there are only because that is where they should be, but I can not hear anything (else).
are in the exact same car the morning before and in exactly the same from the morning of my personal big bang.
In a few seconds to stop.
The doors open.
I, who by now are totally overwhelmed by the smell (and especially from his memory savor, reworked, chopped and reassembled in my heart) when I feel really scared. On the one hand I am afraid that is not as he is no longer able fully to coincide with my idealized memory, on the other hand, I really was terrified that he is, because I do not feel able to do anything.
When I realize that she is really there, somewhere in front of me - and that the smell has a firm consistency that are no longer able to recreate in my head - I feel as if they were shrinking lungs can suck it.
I feel sick, so that for a moment, I suspect - or relief? - That I was really sick. I set out in his direction, no longer driven by its smell, but by his presence, and when I feel I be right in front, someone whispers in my ears:
- Since I first met him, I only wanted to meet you again.
For a moment imagine-believe-I hope they are the words she is speaking to me, it takes me a few seconds to realize that is what I told her.
silence, if not intrusive underground casino.
Silence if not what does not give response to my confession.
Silence, the best and worst answers.
Silence, which weighs and I bend my head down.
I would turn around and leave, but the legs do not want it to soften more than there on the spot.
is only due to the nth and nth stop braking, taking advantage of inertia, I can get back on my bike. I do not know what I'm going to stop going out, but I do not give much. I let myself be carried away by the crowd that comes from sound, and I paste them as my tongue on the palate dry. The voices of the people is a vortex which does not have the strength to expel me from the smell of that woman. Indeed, his memory is now even more powerful and vivid as if it had still ahead. Again I can not control the legs, either. And even his hands, none of the three. Yes, because only now I realize that close to my staff, there is a third hand, I feel the same my not-as those attached to my arms. With an extreme effort to touch the third hand, date back to the long arm of denim jeans and, at the shoulder, my fingers found the same soft and stringy substance tested from my cheek five days ago.
And that's where I understand that the only reason why the smell from the subway seemed more real, it is because it is real. She is in front of me.
smile, or feel more like my mouth is distorted into a kind of smile out of control. I would understand if she is smiling, but I did not dare to touch her face. Let me know what he thinks, but says nothing. It has a regular breathing, as fresh as a glass of water. Only the veins of his hand on my pulse with a slight acceleration. The bulk of the crowd takes away its mass roaring like a summer storm. We basically me and her.
- Because before, in the wagon, did not you say anything? - I ask, trying to contain a tone that I get sweeter than expected.
She raises his hand from mine. The act terrifies me. I tell her;
- No, sorry. Not accused of anything you wanted ... It was just to tell you that ... not that I do what I did ... Come here before you and tell you all those important things ... maybe you have considered the exaggerated by a well you've never seen before ... Gave you trouble?
you stay in front of me, I still feel the smell and the warmth and breath, but he does not answer anything.
- If it's for something I said, please excuse me. - I beg you, now defenseless.
Nothing, she says absolutely nothing. I insist on not going crazy:
- But the 'something, please, for me it is already quite embarrassing cos-
I feel his fingers back into my hand, more something light but edgy. A folded note. I open it and lay in the palm of my left hand while I touch her paper with the index of the right, which has the she wrote something, kicking a lot for me to read it. I love this shade of complicity between us even before knowing what it says. Then, focusing despite the excitement, I read: P

erdonailmiosilenzio, masonosordo - mutadallanascita: nonpossorispondertio at least nonnelmodoincuitutias breasts. C os ì cometuriesciavedermi, m a i n u n m o d o t u t t o t u o . A p r o p o s i t o , i n q u e s t e m a t t i n e i n m e t r o t i h o o s s e r v a t o , d a l o n t a n o , m a s e n z a p e r d e r t i d i v i s t a . S e m b r a v i p r e o c c u p a t o , a n s i o s o , c o m e a l l a r i c e r c a d i q u a l c o s a . O d i q u a l c u n o : u n p o c h i n o h o s p e r a t o c h e f o s s i i o . N o n s o p e r c h é , n o n s o d a q u a n d o , f o r s e d a s u b i t o . M a a p p e n a t i s e i a v v i c i n a t o p r i m a n e l v a g o n e , l e g g e r t i l e l a b b r a è s t a t o u n p o ’ c o m e l e g g e r t i n e lcuore: hocapitochiaramentech eincontrartidinuovoer chevolevoanch NASA or 'me. . . why are there ò chemihaidettosarebbes tatoquellochetiavreid ettoio, sesoloavessipotuto. Omunque C, C arla Iosono.

- I'm Michele - I try to say stumbled back into my own smile.
Hold out your hand in front of me, in a vacuum, and now that same emptiness fills the hand of Carla. Then on the back of my leans like a butterfly even his left hand. Both my guide somewhere upwards until my fingers do not land on a smooth surface, although a bit 'tight. I move the pads on that I recognize as his cheek, and suddenly I feel them sink down a hill, soft, wet, revealing a corner of his mouth. Runs through them all, his lips coming down and back, and realize that Carl is smiling. And trembling. I discover so helpless melts: chest, knees, ears are a single, fluid thing. And my fingers are melting away the skin of the face of Carla, as well as now she rests her hand suddenly, gently on my cheek. Its scent, now, I feel familiar, and this excites me even more, because it is How to rediscover from scratch for every passing second. And I spend a lot. It will pass several more.
Carla and I are blind, deaf and silent, but we are all of a sudden the same liquid and therefore we do not need to look for, or give us an explanation. Not anymore, at least.