"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? ".
Michael Ende-The Neverending Story
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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