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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