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REMEMBER Midsummer

This morning in Rome gets really cold.
No matter how many degrees. These are things you just have to believe. At eight o'clock in the morning

Trastevere is deserted. Now, what I wonder obsessively until they arrive at work: people really can not afford to leave home just because it's cold?
In the sense that I can not and therefore do not understand how other people can do it.

Which is what I also wonder on Monday evening when, always Trastevere is full of people.
Lu-ne-evening. The question is disarming: "But people do not make a fucking morning?".
No, because I do so ... reasoning as above. However
. The

Frost reminded me of a day spent with Clare in Ostia this summer while we were waiting to see materialize before our eyes "The Holiday" (entity astratta.eravamo too disheartened by now).

Here the faithful reportage.

any one day in July.
not in any place: Ostia, Capocotta, between Gates and Torvaianica.

squatting on my towel, I look at Clare, from my perspective horizontally, reading "Alternative to Socialism". I accept as a dogma of faith. She is beautiful and confident, as only she can be close to 58 degrees and, of course, disturbing that attempts to involve us in various and differentiated activities.

In the space of my mind reserved for the mental masturbation I get up, walk to the nearby, showing off an ambiguous smile, I put out a hedgehog dala face (a gesture that will surely distract him), then at least. Inexorably.

In the space of my mind reserved for the accurate perception of reality, I turned to Clare and beg with his eyes: stop reading, take a bath, kill your neighbor.

She looks at me "... new image of youth left."
I look catatonic.
"What the fuck Egle.Ci too live in this country .. it is still your country!"
(I'm sure at this point he turned around and smiles).

I go for ET that always works.
speak over and over again the word Pa-and-brown dell'esserino if the little voice that he wanted to call home.
sold. He smiles. It takes a bath. In four seconds, raises in three runs to the sea. In two of blasphemy because the sand blows, one turns to see where they are, but I do not see.
that I'm on my knees laughing hoarsely.

Radiant tells me to follow her. "I must show you a wonderful place."
Yeah. Ostia. I think,
- went crazy because of the 58 degrees and pointed the Sardinia. The reach by swimming.
- has become an amphibian and wants me to explore the incomparable beauty of the deep capocottiani.
- said this phrase thinking to someone else in some other situation.

But he is right, as always. I think this is the first to overcome the barrier of algae, the only one who came up to the mark. What is known: 500 meters from the shore the water is Ostia PU-LI-TA. I follow swimming struggling a little, wrinkled nose, high forehead.
"See you happy as a fetus that wallows in mummy's tummy."
In these moments I want really good.

Actually I'm happy. Even if a ship behind us is catching fire and our neighbor has followed.

In any case, we feel we can do it.

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has run 'MADE SOMEONE NEXT TIME

"At that point I realized that search was my destiny, the emblem of those who come out at night without any specific intention, the purpose of the murderers of compasses. "
-Cortazar Rayuela


is sometimes necessary to change an image to change direction.

Here we are again.

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If I had thought then that my father would not have turned more word for six months, I probably would have taken the same decision.

I finished preparing the boxes being careful not to put him closer a fraction of a second on each object wrapped. Any act required at least a few minutes and considering the amount of things that I brought with me, come to think now, that night really took me a long time to finish. For the duration had to be closed in the usual total cancellation of any feeling I have in my hands caused those little pieces of life.

So I avoided the flooding river of emotions which would in any case due to report soon.
never left me feeling that there should be someone with me. I do not know who exactly wanted to say even now beside me, and perhaps the confusion over time had become the clot against which my blood had come across, cutting off the flow vital, not allowing you to accompany my every gesture is an expression of the face.

At that moment I just had this. But I kept doing and doing and doing.
Wrap, throw, scegliere.Chiudere, unlock, lift.
When I finished I felt like the last day of vacation: a place where the night before you'd be still a handful of days you indefinite becomes unbearable, you want only to escape as soon as possible.

Anything that evening it seemed as if he had already taken the road of the past. All right in the middle and I just wanted to be as fast as possible on the other side.
So, a quick jump on the scooter and I was full of backpacks and bags and stuck with the duvet between my legs, swollen by the wind all the way up until my chin.
sembrai very funny and I began to sorridere.Feci some facet in the mirror.

Then I thought that was moving really, that I would never slept in that house. that was really a certainty.

again I felt that there would be someone with me. Perhaps I was simply guardare.Pensai fun and I wanted someone to laugh with me and me.

Then I rediscovered a smile and I knew that could not be just anyone.
We were too bulky, I and my duvet.

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I WANT YOU

I thought, I was thinking, I'm afraid once again I think you left the house, as usual: there something wrong.

as simple as that you can not.

There is something wrong, I feel on the skin and in skin and stomach and stomach. Wonderfully
irrrazionale already know that feeling. A few years ago, in an indefinite time now because maybe it was intuition proved so many times, as many times was choked, that did not really matter then tie it to a special memory.

There's all. These are things that if you can, if you will not ever be erased from your body.
something wrong and it is strange to see it happen in a moment like this simple and everyday.

I told you to go to our coffee after dinner and now I'm watching you drink your sambuca.Con fly naturally and without much enthusiasm about your job, your house, the people you are close. I think you could talk like me.Temo is also true. I imagined you, among many mornings a week, aim to prepare the coffee in the kitchen of your home bellissima.Ti I figured not to notice how nice it is to leave the shutters open to find the room flooded first rays of morning. I thought to mount on the scooter and do not enjoy that second pause at the traffic lights before launching into confusion. I imagined the look on while slipping with your books and your pictures with a glass of wine without thinking of something in particular, paying the slightest attention to the sensation of the tongue on the glass of thin glass.

Then I thought, sitting on a step, smile and do not take care of a girl in front of you. Try not to think of a look and a "yes" from the others.

I think there is something wrong.
Arrancar with his arms stretched out to someone, clutching his fists to not let it slip away something important.

call, hold and finally open his hands.
Here, all this for you. Seeing
divantare transparent, lightweight, thin all the sensations that had believed important because no one is watching with you, like you, with altrattanta passion.

be alone with the feeling of having missed the word adatta.Perdere qualcosa.Perduto not necessarily imply having a. Continue to fix
startled the palms of my hands I dreamed? See nothing, I hold nothing.

I want you.
I want you.
I want you.

Forgive me, but it is not true.

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# 3 # 2 I WANT YOU I WANT YOU

're back from a few days.
The cigarette smoke always the same.
Buffo. It seems that you've been away so much time and yet it is a matter of hours, if we want to see it in the simplest way.

know the drill: jump feel even the balance of my voice when we're together. If I
I really dare ask if there is still something that does not change for me when I find myself in front of you.

Do not ask me why I fear it is better that way.
I did not really hungry, but you should still continue to read the menu also funny that way all night if I could.

In fact if I could at this time would tend to limit possible until a second before it would break and that would change.

So it always happens: you get closer, until you feel clear, then that's it.

Continue leggere.Che I want you.
They are not even sure that these feelings are real.
the same in the end, all the time.

If you close all, close too. When he gets the cold cold water, always without warning after a moment where I felt one step away from you, I could not continue to have incredibilemnte want you without feeling alone.

Yet now I still look at you and it seems impossible that you short freeze me and everything.
every time I can not believe it, even though I know it will happen.

vanish and return, a reflux of emotions, continuous and timely so embarrassing.
Although unable to be stronger than your doubt, do not let go yet one parenthesis of time in which I may have wanted you. This

me I still hold on the skin.
things on the skin make the difference.

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# 1

Small yellow lamp-lit square in the center, when it is almost evening.

I lit a cigarette and I unbuttoned the jacket of jeans, releasing the colored stripes of the shirt too early summer.

I realized that he crumpled up the empty pack of cigarettes.

I turned to the store to see if I could the last few minutes I remained free to go and buy.

I saw you.
I looked at you.
I saw you again.

Just a few meters away.

I found your sweater around indefinitely for something that he knew that I was familiar.

I have returned in mind the words of a friend in Milan, one night before taking the tram with wooden seats: anyone can draw. Just remember that the eyes should be at the center of the face. Always. Otherwise, skip all the proportions and the natural balance of the image.

I continued to stare at my eyes, sensing that they had inadvertently left the center perfect, the ideal position and kept watching.

Against all resistance my face decided to tell you.

I want you.
I want you.
I want you.

is that I am hungry, eat something.

We continued to walk closer.

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WITHOUT A STRANGE LIGHT SOURCE AND

"The Streets of fantasy They can be found only by your desires, "said Graogramàn-you let yourself be guided by your wishes. It 's weird thought-Sebastian-we can simply wish for what you want. But the truth is where i want? and what she wants? Sebastian showed the writing on the reverse a lion dell'amuleto: Do \u200b\u200bwhat you want. "This means that I can do whatever I think is not it?". Graogramàn's face suddenly assumed an expression of seriousness, and his eyes became terrible flaming: "No, it means you have to do what is your true will. And nothing is more difficult." My real desire, and what What's that? Do you mean perhaps that the desires that you have not always good? ".
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One morning I woke up calm and warm under the covers, covering the light that hurt his eyes, clasped his knees on his stomach and hoped to remember what was the dream.

Milan, breakfast kitchen, a steaming cup red cherry on the table in light wood. The slightly crackly radio and the light that seemed to begin to fade even though it was just morning.'s dream: meeting of love between crumpled sheets in a room of blinding white.

The feeling that they could leave the night picture is physically perceptible so much so that I can not tell if the heat on the skin, from head to foot was due to the deck or to the dream now almost become one. All lentamete, I decided that the day would slip away plan, and although it may seem strange, these are things that sometimes you can decide: Dissolve the hours as you want, dilate, stretch, shake a few moments, scomporne others. Time as a small loaf of clay to mold.

In Milan, it happened when a lovely day everything became very attractive, it was rare but sometimes, when I was on I was lucky enough to see him. The suburb where I lived had around a single landscape, without trauma, without change, without movement.
Mornings I walked fast towards the station, between the haze, wool scarf up over his mouth and still sleep with the heat of the skin, I never talked to a few people who see the cross, nor the buildings that pass nearby. On the morning of the dream I decided to take a walk in the country.
From the station, between the low buildings that gave the course, the only road that crossed from one side to the neighborhood.

The dominant color was definitely yellow: yellow if you looked up at the sky through the branches dry, yellow if you looked down, concentrating on the boots that trampled on the leaves, appearing and disappearing rhythmically. Could feel the sun needed to be very strong, yet light at the end seemed to have difficulty a little: the sky was bright, the sun instead I could not understand where he was, I felt the presence, I saw the yellow light that invaded everything, but looking up, between the buildings, I could not see it.

look around and even casually, I would end forever to see some element of yellow and I thought that everything blends in perfectly with my coat and my boots, they also altered by the strange light citation.
I remember walking more than I needed to raise their arms up and make it clear that I was happy. A sort of wave, because of leap of possibility and curiosity. I did not know where it came from, what it was, but several times I thought maybe I had to keep those arms down, not raise them, not move them, close your hands into fists in the pocket and look just the tip of my boots as I did the morning routine.

swing and I could not decide what to do with these arms. It was also really important to know where it comes from that particular light, where was the sun?

taken aback I was poised between a yellow and a wish that I did not know how to keep close.

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' AS IF IN TRENT ' years had not lived, VA '

E 'sti thirty years as if I had not lived leaves.
Irene went to the cafe for a short time and was one of those girls who would not have been able to give an age: it was small and skinny, very dark hair, two strands to sides fell off from the rest because of its continuous enrichment. What I discovered only later, when his attendance became almost daily. He worked at an insurance nearby and had recently moved to town.

E 'sti thirty years as if I had not lived, VA.
To say these words took a split second, just long enough to open the bag of sugar and turn the spoon in the coffee. A gesture that did so naturally as to believe that repeated many times during its days. As if nothing had turned to the pictures attached to the walls, watching with an expression that I did not understand then and there, I imagined not particularly appealing. Later, when, for some odd coincidences, I met her I knew very well that when he flung open his dark eyes and tilted his head to one side meant for her to remember something that had previously waived.

But then I knew we'd found to share the same apartment and that her face would soon be decipherable in every subtle expression. Neither imagined that coffee was a moment shared with her the whole morning in the kitchen, before anything else, before the day begins, before any other contact with people: at first disemi-consciousness when, abandoned by little bed, sleep, night-time images are still present and keep you from
concentrate on what you have around. A time when focus is not nothing, you are unable to do anything but automatic gestures and distracted, in absolute silence.

How to make coffee. Like sitting in the kitchen listening to the noise that produces the machine, like a little boat coming into port with the engine off.
Irene had gone silent, with his small boat off, that revealed an engine still overflowing with sounds and noises on the old crossing in rough seas and windy. I do not rushed, but still before us to live together when we met only at the cafe, our meetings have already purchased this tenuous nature, quiet, delicate that would characterize all of our morning: No feeling of having to speak to power, she could stay at the table, I closed the bar in an effort to grab the images that night until a few hours before had filled our heads and our bellies. Neither had ever felt the need to talk to another because of embarrassment, discomfort, guilt. We were both present and this gave us peace of mind does not necessarily have to be made explicit.

Then I found this very pleasant situation, but why come back from Milan, confused and pensive face day. I was back at the cafe in a trance, automatically, as you can throw in bed one night when it was drunk and was made very late: we slipped under the covers without clearly perceive the consistency, or the cloth, nor of his body.
Those days I felt so. Not surprising then if, when she went out with that particular sentence is not felt no shock, if not a strange tingling on the skin that I had learned over the years suggest: look more carefully.

In fact, I did. After a lot of coffee.

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"LIFE OR SVIVE, or write"

"I do not want to write, and then it is difficult to unite the will to live with the desire to write"
A. Chekhov (to Alexander Chekhov)


Before leaving, one thing I had been more or less certain, that to overcome long evenings alone, in a place that I hardly had to call home during those months away from my customers closing-time coffee I would write.

Once again I had to deal with feelings and behaviors that, in spite of the expectations made it more likely that I could myself, left me slightly stunned, standing there in silence, watching them act, with a funny expression on his face waiting.

not a word I wrote then. After some resistance the first few weeks, I accepted the fact, helping to give him a kind of dignity with maximum explained that it would be difficult sit down and challenge the entire history of pencil if you wanted to talk to you was still alive, me.
Again, on pelle.Ancora once had to deal with emotions that they could not forget from where you could not take away immediata.Ancora once fought hard against what seemed inevitable, convinced that all stories go ro crystallized, cool spot.

I began to see, slowly, because I'm wrong and after some time I ventured to leave the luxury of picking and andare.Mollai scrissi.Senza no second thoughts, without guilt.

was absolutely no chance that I began to do a few days of the end, when I started, quietly, to leave all I found.
But then I did not explained very well and I was just afraid of losing tutto.Perchè you can not grab things at the moment?

Today it seems so obvious fear of missing out on anything if the only desire was that I felt that nothing, absolutely nothing, I remained on the skin ... lucky you simply change your mind.