Bichrome Quince Dresses

Aphorisms Towards Neverland

There are stories that, despite their beauty edapparentemente without any reason, remain hidden for a lot of time by orimangono the narrow confines of an area.

I was on holiday in the Azores Islands in the Atlantic Ocean, when chatting with the wife of an old fisherman came to my conoscenzadella story of a countryman, shipwrecked on an island nearby qualcheanno ago. Remained on the island for a long time without any hope Diesse found, had written alcunelettere, had bottles and had left them in charge of the mare.Qualche months before my arrival, a child was found on a spiaggial'ultima series of bottles made by the sea. Quindiorganizzate were several expeditions in search of this man. A particolareapprodò in an island where they were found a few notes of a man who potevaessere Gabriel.

That old then told me the story of the man, romanticized by what they learned from the letters and findings. I paretremendamente beautiful and we want to tell you today, offering mieparole the voice of the man who lived as a last tribute to his life.

Primocapitolo

I was a normal man before. A man who wore his outfit ognimattina manager, made of dark pantalonegrigio jacket, white shirt and black tie, and went to work. Working eraper me to participate in committees, boards of directors, meetings, without cheavessi more the perception of doing something constructive siera lost that feeling with the memories of the years when I was doing research at the University.

I was a normal man before. Normal in a separate miostatus, who has spent far too long a time to finish chiedersidove began my sins and those of others, always striving ASCUS others and take on the sins that I had not committed. So, oramaiavevo lost everything I had more expensive and I did not care much diavia a fault or more in all.

It was by chance that the second anniversary dellamia separation touched my thought to make a change to my life. Fuprima like a small feather that tickles the soul and then a boulder on his head and tuberculosis plant oppresses you. It was my desire to sail the sea cheprese foot inside me almost unexpected, as when a boy went incima the pier early in the morning to see the vessels fell from their long nights of moisture esalsedine.

I did not drive a sailboat, but I dissiche this could not hinder my desire to escape the world. Cosìcercai agencies that rent sailboats with skipper and I presiqualche day off to visit them.

It was only after several attempts I could atrovarne one that was willing to rent a sailboat for a trip and destination Didur unlikely, but the skipper was more difficult to find, the agency told me that his skipper would have hardly aderitoall'iniziativa, because they had all alternative work potevosentirmi free to live and, while they did their investigation, to find unoper on my own.

So I went to the harbor and I put in unbar. I got a cappuccino, and began to talk about my journey trying diattrarre some prey in my web. Nothing, then and there and so I left Ilmio phone and I went to sleep in a hotel.

I spent the morning on the pier to watch lebarche going and returning, building slowly in the mind steps Delmi trip. In the evening I went to the bar and sat down at the same counter giornoprima.

I sat for about an hour to drink a birradavanti a window to peek at the seagulls and the sea, when avvicinòun tall, thin man, his face a bit 'pock-marked, his hair matted on his head. He wore a long raincoat with the collar turned up and a shirt bianca.In hand waving a sailor's hat. Straight out of a classic delfumetto. The sailor and navigator solitary gentleman par excellence CortoMaltese. This inspired me to perhaps an innate sympathy.

- They say that you are looking for a skipper

- Who says?

- Angel, what is the bar.

- And who is the skipper?

- I, like, Max

- Enjoyment, Gabriele.

not remember how long we spent in that bar.In not really chatted much: after the initial pleasantries aimed at capirel'esperienza as skipper of the stranger among us is established unsilenzio accomplice, acceptable to both. He also told not willingly, farms in the eyes as it were his great passion for the sea, its travel perchèparlado bright light illuminating them from within.

For my part I told him about my project elui not laughed, but I made an appointment for the following unasettimana every day, in order to plan your trip in detail: trip, stops, food, other supplies, all things that in my naivete marinaiobambino I could not imagine.

always spent a week together, oall'agenzia the bar to watch the boats and choose our own. A little 'Misenta usurped in my dream: I was not alone in wanting to escape from realtá.Avevo found a worthy companion travel, which I had not even imporreil silence for the contract, because he had already chosen as his life caratteristicadi.

chose the date and the boat nemmenobisogno without arguing. Between us there was an unexpected harmony. Ilproprietario repainting the boat was just when we went to Alaska, the deposit and asked me how I wanted to call it. - Karystos - glidissi, in honor of my mother, of Greek origin, the grandson of an antiquarian diAtene.

We left on June 20 of that year. Not avevorimpianti and something told me that after all also my traveling companion avevaqualcosa warm to leave firmly anchored on dry land.

Secondocapitolo

That morning we set sail soon. Were they lequattro morning. The air was fresh and crisp. The sea was calm, despite a slight breeze stirred the waves there.

I found almost immediately was perhaps have a nickname for Max, but only see me on that boat with him brought me back to the memory iltempo immediately after the death of my father when I was nine. Ricordomolto not him, but remember that no one told me it was dead. That particolarelo discovered many years later. I was not present at his funeral as a result, even if you think about it I never went to funerals of my relatives.

so successful that any day he was permanently gone. It could have gone out, he could have escaped commonly women, could be anywhere else. I just knew that was not CONM and I was missing. It was not a rational feeling as it can be adesso.Era feeling in half, the feeling that something just around nonc'era, was the face of a sudden I felt his hand on his shoulder perpoi discover that it was nothing. It was to hear his voice calling me. Eral'immaginarlo before school, outside the football field, all in quellesituazioni which I was accustomed to his presence. And notice that nonc'era, that feeling of being abandoned, was a sensazioneindescrivibile.

Perhaps it was because I could not go crazy chearrivò Tuod. He spoke to me in the evening when I was in bed, his head on the pillow, he opened his eyes in the dark. He held my hand when I was scared. I gliraccontavo of my sporting victories, quarrels with my mates and he miascoltava and above all I understand. As my father would have understood if fossestato there.

This strange relationship between two people between me and Max miriportò because at that time and was almost by accident that when put put to it in case I turned to him as Tuod. Max said nothing. Accettòsemplicemente that role, despite not knowing how many bloody essoportasse memories behind. I think I have more called Max from day one that ciconoscemmo.

Tuod gave me instructions on what dovevofare, despite my protests that I had paid him for guidarmisenza having to lift a finger. As it seemed not to hear, I had to learn abestemmiare in the language of sailors, some with strange names calling buffioggetti present on the ship.

We took off and my emotion was grande.Sentivo a bit 'of fear inside of me, but pushed back down together to the node chemi was forming in my throat at the thought that this trip would not return anchepotuto. There was no one to greet me on the pier, if not a vecchiopescatore. He gave me tenderness seen from afar, sitting on the wet wood, commonly fishing rod in one hand and the other in the air that seemed scacciaremosche. I realized too late to anger, which in fact he stavasalutando Tuod, not me. There was nobody on the pier, but maybe I dovutoimmaginarlo, as anyone I said that I was leaving, if not alResponsabile Human Resources of my company and all'AmministratoreDelegato. For everyone else I was on a mission somewhere.

The first few days spent serene. Sembravaquasi a boat trip whatsoever. I spent my free time left daimestieri Tuod that I gave, sunbathing completely naked. I love tan: it's my main feature. I often notice people only quelloe for the stark contrast between the color of my skin and that of my occhi.Il my Corto Maltese, however, avevaocchi only for the horizon and sometimes they rested on the curves of flying that qualcheoccasionale offered to our sight from time to time, quandocapitava to meet other boats. Not that I'm not interested unconditional normal: it's just that I really want to disconnect from all cioce until then I was obsessed, especially working women.

The route we followed took us versoGibilterra and from there we started our journey more difficult Latraverse Atlantic. Not deny that scared me a bit 'that company, but when I was talking to Tuod his reaction was always so quiet, that I finally convinced me that I should not even staring over tantosull'argomento.

fuimpegnativo The passage through the strait, most of what he wanted me to believe Tuod and conseguenzainiziai to properly weigh all the opinions expressed its relatively alviaggio. I had seen some 'difficulties in some points and my aiutoera was crucial to ensure that we crash into some rocks. Miconvinsi at that moment that I just had to ask for a license nauticaper warranty, but much much more.

Just past the strait and recovered the calm, Tuod asked me to take the helm, because he had to go down to study lemappe. I put my hands on the wet wood with some fear, by engaging almassimo to pursue his claim to "go straight". Inrealtà Tuod had ignored the fact that "straight" has sensoquando have benchmarks against which to move, but immediately lost meaning for unapersona on a boat in the middle the sea, in fact, that water around. The dubbiverso Tuod increased as time passed and he did not riemergeva.Iniziai also wondering why he had accepted that trip and I ask ripromisidi at the earliest opportunity, so now we were on that boat and nonpotevo do without him, whatever he had confessed .

After about two hours Tuod finally emerged EFEC motioned to sit down. He took the helm and looked at me for a while 'before diiniziare to speak. I did not like her look, but I sat down and aspettaicompunto you decide to talk.

- We're in trouble! - Dissead some point.

- What makes you think? -I asked naively.

- lemappe I studied a lot before you go and I felt like I spoke avertene.

- What?

- After volevoscendere Gibraltar south to the Tropic of Cancer in the 70th meridian; puntoavremmo then veered northward until it meets the Gulf Stream ciavrebbe that led to the east coast of the United States, in baiadell'Hudson. There we would stop a few days. I calculated that perhaps cisarebbero took about twenty days.

- What has changed? It exposed America? - Said with his usual humor that gets me when vogliocombattere fear.

- There's a hurricane. Dobbiamoandare north.

- Come ... no?

- I dislike ... well we should follow the coast to the north of Spain and then break away ... mac'è the Coast of Death, I do not like that area.

- What is the Costa Dellamorte?

- It lies between La Coruna eCabo Fisterra. Cabo Fisterra is the culmination of the Way of Santiago.Prende the name "Finis Terrae", the end of the earth, because it was erroneamenteritenuto the head to the west of Spain. It 's a rocky promontory with digranito thousand feet high, scary ...

- Tuod Have you been there?

- vogliotornare Yes and no ... I was on vacation with my brother and his wife. I used to skipper.

chiederglipiù He stopped suddenly and I did not want anything. After a while, 'the silence that had become unwieldy, taken aparlare:

- So what do you do? We can not disengage from the coast first?

- We are a bit 'stretching risalendo.Stiamo ... for this I am afraid I should stop before lasciarela coast to the Atlantic. But I studied the map and maybe, if you like, we can make a stopover in the Azores. There are about fifteen hundred kilometers daLisbona and nearly four thousand from the United States. We should do it first chel'uragano arrive there. We stop and when everything is quiet siriparte. What do you say?

- E 'safe?

- Hurricanes They may also be undermining the weather man does to them. We will be Conle ears open to hear all the reports and correct the route for good.

- But we can not avoid the saliresu Spain Costa de Morte?

- Look, I accettatoquesto work because I need to get rid of that memory. I want ciritrovi smashed against?

- andareincontro And you want a hurricane just because you do not want to admit a mistake?

- Who the fuck says that hosbagliato I?

- Look, do not veniamofuori fighting. Let's do this. Let's see what the probability is greater disuccesso: Azores with the hurricane that awaits us with open arms or Death Costadella passing off. He studied both solutions and then neriparliamo.

- I said to lacoste of Death I go. Do you carry if you want to Spezia.

He went down leaving me sitting next altimone.

I stood up without knowing what fare.Dovevo still go right? Good grief! In that situation I was kicked out! That I could lead my group of men tirelessly to Lamet and that I as an example throughout the company as the "Captain", ilcapo that everyone wanted, I was now not knowing how lasituazione manage without the necessary skills to fend for himself.

After all, what risk? In danger of dying, I had already put maquesto account, no? Who faces a trip with a stranger who seems questaportata Corto Maltese and his name is Tuod of certonon can hope to get nice clean and combed the bottom of the journey senzanemmeno a scar.

- From Tuod, come on. Siva to the Azores. What did you say the name of that place?

TerzoCapitolo

Tuod had calmed. The idea of \u200b\u200bpassarenei near the Coast of Death had really upset. Davveroche I thought if I had forced that option, Once berthed miavrebbe planted there and would go away. Thus the improved atmosphere between Dino. The weather was good, the sea calm enough, the ventoabbastanza high to sail us toward our goal remains neitempi Tuod that was given.

What happened so we colsecompletamente aback. It happened one night. I woke perchèsentivo the boat swaying more than usual and my stomach eravicino in the toilet to empty the entire dinner. I got up trying to reach latoilette, but as soon as I set foot on earth I was beaten and fell completamentedall'altra part. As I tried to get up I took a series They say you vomit and show you the savings that resulted, because I'm sick iostesso remember. I shouted the name of Tuod, hoping I hear. Noncapivo where he was, but I wanted him there with me, to reassure me that everything stavaandando for the better and it was just a sea a bit 'bigger than usual. Tuodnon answered me, that I realized I had to get up. I made my way now Conlie stomach going up and down on his own every minimosbandamento the boat. I grabbed the handrail of the stairs and I took up erimasi property to see a show that had not already piùnulla human now. Reverse Tuod was under sail: it must have been shot in the testamentre tried to maneuver and was lying unconscious, face down. Around noic'erano of giant waves, as the highest mast of the ship.

am not a man who is afraid to normal. The vitain fund has prepared me to not be afraid of what others usually possonotemere. I do not feared death, perhaps because of the experience of my father's death for me was just empty, and had no stains or foschedell'inferno the brightness of heaven. I suffered from vertigo, but not perquesto I pulled back from breathtaking landscapes or business .. There was unacanzone saying that vertigo is not fear of falling, but wants divolare. I was not afraid of being robbed at night when I came home dasolo nor I was afraid of guns. Maybe it was my unconsciousness or perhaps erasolo knowledge that ultimately the worst thing that could happen was porrefine to suffering on this earth. Forever.

Yet what I saw was the imprinted mieiocchi and hurt me inside. I knew to be faced with something that I do not avreipotuto control. I knew that whatever I decide difare I could, I would not have decided for my life or my death, nor for that diTuod. It made me fear my own resignation in the face of the horror dellanatura. Contrary to this thought, was the instinct to guide action. I tried to drag Tuod deck, but at some point the boat sirivoltò and I was not able to hold with my hands, despite the avessimessa us all and even more, the one hundred and eighty to eighty pounds of suocorpo cm. I saw him slide slowly and saw my body go in there perafferrare hem of pants, a lock of hair, whatever chepotesse contribute to keeping his body on the boat and his life sullaterra.

slipped slowly. Before I saw his piedipenetrare water and then slowly disappear I saw the legs, trunk, and head lebraccia. I think I screamed at that moment, a cry that you're not to save him but gave me the strength to endure the death. I think, I tried to delete perchèdavvero all the synapses that would allow me diriportare the mind and eyes so painful those images.

bleeding. Somewhere I was bleeding and Neres account by accident. I was dirty with vomit and blood everywhere and I felt I was losing cheanche forces. I decided to cling to something and aspettarela death. I was not Christian and therefore I needed to pray. But at that momentomi seemed more dignified to do it. Funny how the face of death, man is left alone to a licensing their dignity. Do not remember him often. Madovremmo.

Suddenly something, maybe a beam, micolpì.

fainted and when I woke up I saw above me uncielo blue and clear.

I had no choice: either I was in heaven or, piùprobabilmente I landed in the Azores. Not by boat, but in qualchemodo.

The Azores are an archipelago of nine isoleimmerse between Portugal and North America, the Atlantic Ocean. Alcuniritengono that they are the remains of the legendary Atlantis. Wild, perilous, from the black cliffs and crystal-clear lakes. Actually I was not on nessunadelle nine most popular islands, where I could hope to find help for my situation ecomprensione, as well as a hot meal and sleep.

I was not in the Azores. I do not know how, but I was finitosu one of the Savage Islands, a group of three uninhabited islands, including Madeira and the Canary Islands. How did the boat to finish completely Off-Route is a mystery to me and the rest did not even more Tuod asostenermi in my reasoning. I got up. My head was spinning a bit '. Miguardai around and recognized in some woods next to me a couple of letters delnome of the boat, a 'Y' and an 'S'. A little farther on was the boat completamenteaperta against a giant rock. Heedless of my wounds courses versoil wreck and started to rummage through the wood wet and smelly. I opened when I saw the ilcuore Boxes of food untouched. I tried again and found lacassetta the emergency room. I grabbed her and walked on the beach, rock assign to sit high enough.

began to treat the numerous cuts that riuscivoa see, some of which had been closed for blood. I tried to open them UNPO 'right to disinfect well. I tried to do my best, that before this adventure tenutoconto the best reaction to the blood that had been avevoavuto of fainting. It 'obvious that conditions in estremel'uomo react with unexpected force.

After a while, 'I realized that my ostinazionenel clean wounds conceal the desire to treat others, piùprofonde. The gaze lingered for a moment on the horizon and seemed far quasidi hear the laughter a bit 'mocking of Tuod. - I want to be tuoposto now ugly bitch of a skipper. Wherever you are - I was surprised apensare.

The days passed one the same. Nonc'era nor much to be done either by turning on the island. Illegname had dried in the sun and had built a small shelter. I dragged alcoperto stores and all the material I had found nellabarca intact, including a small transistor radio that Tuod rarely used. I was not nor could I consider myself unelettrotecnico an amateur electronics. Yet iltroppo leisure and the desire to return to the civilized world adedicarmi forced me to study that thing, that tomorrow would potutorappresentare the only way to communicate with the rest of the world, thousands of waves far from where I sat.

It was almost by accident one morning when I opened the unascatolone Tuod, thinking it contained other provisions. I was tired dimangiare cans of tuna and peas and I hope to be able trovarequalche food a bit 'different. But in that box was just a bunch of stationery dimateriale: blocks, books, pens, crayons, and smallest in unascatola, some photographs. It struck me in particular, the photo of unuomo, tall, very thin, his hair and his face pitted blacks, who surely dovevaessere Tuod's father. Next to him a little woman esmilza small, almost insignificant, if not for very sweet eyes cheriuscivano to hug and make you feel inside you.

How long since I saw a look comequello? How long have not felt heat like that? I grabbed a pen EFU almost natural to start writing, as if that gesture I potessifinalmente put an end to an enforced silence. And the fervor with which I wrote quelleparole made me realize that the silence that screamed in me was not alone quellodella a desert island, where I found myself every day faresberleffi front of a mirror and shouting insults to my face barbonadi castaway. No. It was another silence, begging and even if the end nonaveva sense nor hope of reaching the recipient, immediately broke alcalore and sound of the first words of my message in a bottle. Leripetetti to myself while I was writing, as if to evoke his presence, lìaffianco me.

"Dear Dad ..."

Paginaintenzionalmente left blank.

PrimaLettera

had passed many days, maybe weeks.

Gabriel had now lost the sense of tempo.Seguiva instinct to eat, drink and sleep. And the rest of the time lopassava with a knife to cut firewood. Sculpting small objects, according to the whim of the moment.

She never thought of being able to darevita to something with his hands and made to feel under the skin of the carved COSEC gave him a sense in some way.

One evening he was sitting outside his capanna.Aveva a fire, but he could not feel the heat. Despite very glifosse closely and had put up blankets, felt chills of dentro.Si felt excited, he felt within himself that he could not aconvogliare energy to his usual carving and sculpting. He had worn wooden diversipezzi trying to give shape to the feeling he felt inside.

suddenly stood up, took a sheet and unapenna and began to write.

Nonintesterò this letter, but I know that you recognize the words that stodedicando you.

You also know that if I were not here on an uncharted island in the Atlantic, with rarepossibilità of survival, do not I would be writing. Or maybe you just stareimandando SMS. But this place is far from the technological world as Ilsole last planet in the solar system.

Maybe it's a good thing! Among us there was never need parole.Noi know how we feel for each other. We are sure dell'altracome the one we are sure that every day the sun rises. We are the reference each perl'altra, the fixed point that does not run and does not pass. Wherever we go, with chiunqueci accompany, if we turn, we know the mirror and there we are, as prey to hunters and we do not escape and prey caccatori insieme.Del our love. It 's also true that sometimes, when we hear that things cisfuggono, becomes important for anyone to stop them: it is only for this, Amoremio, I'm writing you today. It 's just for this, to stop my love erendertelo always visible, which is now fixed on this paper what I feel covered, so that you can always have it under your eyes, even when the time you avràcancellato those memories that you seem to be indelible. Yeah. Why does the weather, wrapped them tease, even to people who you are or have stateimportanti and takes away one pixel after another in the photographs of your ricordied one day, suddenly discover that what was important, it is rimastosolo a feeling.

So ildolore that I gave you has left a deep mark in your heart. The leggoogni time you cross, even though your modesty prevents you from dirinfacciarmelo, because basically you're like me and you know that I had no choice, chel'alternativa was not feeling more human. I wonder sometimes if you maiperdonarmi. I know that you will not. Some things can not be forgiven, on the farm. But I just know that you would like to do, my love.

By my choice I gave up a comfortable life. I gave up on love. Masai I have not given up being a father and is the only thing I wanted farebene. While writing, I choose to do so until the very end without fear of revealing my feelings as a man and tell him. Do not ask me what I do. Potraiusarli in my defense, or you can ignore them, throwing them in the toilet with all larabbia you will be sure to have me lost. But trust me, better questacertezza that the uncertainty of not having understood or not giving me what chetu could.

Thou haida everything. All that with your hands as a child you could offer me.

The gioiadi come see you, baby, helpless, "my" child - or should I say lacreatura to which I have also contributed - which is no small thing for a man, knowing that you gave life to something, I mean something good - tiriconcilia for all the sins you have committed a lifetime.

Prendertiper hand and you walk, your smiles of joy and pain in tuoipianti.

Raccoglierele confessions of your child and pull back when you're not diventataadolescente and this father wanted more ... already, maybe this, my love, the most difficult summer, ours was a very strong relationship and-tear it out of charity, in a healthy and natural as befits a report Sanatra father and daughter - was the greatest pain. I saw you retreat of forehead to me, I saw you chjuderti to curl and turn away. And I had to sit still, let go, do not even touch you because I saw that you davofastidio, where instead there until a few years ago it was you were looking incontinuazione my kisses and my hugs. It 'been a hard gap, sure this had words of explanation, which I always hoped that with time siritraesse to rejoin once you were grown up and not mivedessi more as a man, but again as a father. An old father, who habisogno your affection and your physical proximity also, because sometimes leparole not enough, even those not known.

I have nothing to leave, but the memory of a man tried to qualcunoche was trying to live and find meaning in itself. My hope Eche you also have good memories, as well as those of an angry man ESOL. Remember, when you find yourself in front of a man wounded and alone, not to disprezzarlo.Soprattutto, my love, not hurt it more, do not leave solchidi pain in his heart that is unlikely to redial.

If you can, restore what was at their best, recover my smiles, mieischerzi a teenager, I used those to your friends while you tiincazzavi and looked at me wrong. Retrieve my hugs and my kisses, imomenti spent together in silence, eyes crossed and risateimprovvise, my shoulder which sometimes lean silent, tired etriste. Moments that as I grew increasingly appreciative of perchèerano increasingly rare. Small diamonds shining moments between all of gold. I wanted to rip the pain from the heart because you could not prove più.Avrei wanted to challenge those who suffer because you were stopped. Eppurecome father could not do: knowing how much pain there is in life, was well chetu get to know and tame it, but above all to win.

Sonoarrivato the end, my love.

finestrana What about your father. Lived alone, a loneliness that breaks the heart. Solotra people I loved, which made my pain even more penetrating edinaccettabile. For this I left at least became justifiable Ilmio feel alien to the world around them. If I stayed, I was afraid I might end chealla also hate you and your brother and this should not happen.

Have you Curatolo. Take care of my recollection.

Cercaminel your heart, when you need me the next and know that I'll lì.Sarò in the eyes of those who will love you. I'll be in the words of one who loves you and you dirac you will know that is not lying to you if you try provatoper me. I will be in hugs and caresses of those who loves you. I'll Inquest poor words, if you ever reach.

nonti And if you come, I know you know the same, in your heart, how I love you.

Dad

SecondaLettera

Gabriel was sitting in the hut and the photographs of stavasfogliando Tuod.

thought back to his father. He tried to remember the suaimmagine, but this seemed blurred in memory, which gave him a feeling nasceredentro rage against himself for having forgotten. Undo worth the apology that his reason's built: you were a child, epass long time, you did not have many pictures to take you back. Sirimproverava have forgotten moments of childhood together, have tenutoforte only emptiness inside himself, that he had only dragged diabbandono that way. And suddenly he saw himself in his son. So he began to write ...

"You're a man," you say, "Be strong, do not cry." Your pain will be intense. Sentiraiimpotente and you will not cry just because you have so much anger in my body, I'm glad to not be there in front of you to take all the punches that Mimer and you'd give me.

feel a great vuotoche you will be impossible to fill. I do not know where I'll tell you in those momenti.Non can lie by telling you that I will be next to you or that you think meguardando the sky. I am not a Christian but does not exclude anything. Not even that magariDio there and I will be in hell, as if it will be worth all lasofferenza accusation that those who tried to love you because of me.

maddening ilfatto not have a grave to cry on, the fact of not having vistofreddo and composed in a coffin, as in the movies. He could not think mortosenza seen me in as your age in which it is worse than S. Tommasoe not believe anything unless it is pressed against the nose.

hovissuto What mockery to me that the experience of a father who was not there, no one had ladecenza to tell me he was dead. I am convinced that this is what I rendeancora harder to see me here thinking of you, over there, you do not know cosas now: if free spirit, if left to the worms or meat damned soul. Soesattamente every thought that crosses your mind. Chenasce guess every instinct in you to me, the initial bewilderment and uncertainty for the sudden emptiness in my fate, anger which turns into the most sordid quandol'assenza continues and will invade the soul. The indifference that follows, daldolore defense. Remorse for the things you've done and regret for what nonhai unable or unwilling to do. Envy and hatred when you see a father and figlionelle situations that remind you of us.

DIRECTION dizziness grew up with that, hoping not to try to do your time with your child, such as kidnapping was a curse passed down from father to son since the dolorecontinui. As if the pain was the only way to be remembered and recalled.

And there is nothing that iopossa say, still alive, although far away, to relieve pain and caress iltuo heart. It should be 'your way, knowing that those feelings will count forever, you will be afraid of losing everything you love, then percostringerti not to love more, or deny yourself the love you feel perqualcuno, like a little luck not to lose it.

ancheio there are waterfalls. I think I see a movie in which you take my role daprotagonista and I became helpless spectator of your hard silence.

So I can not dirtinulla. I know my mistakes, but instead would never change the tuocammino, or sharing would help you to bear it. You will only, as I was losono.

One thing I leave you: my love. All the love I can, the strong and eternal sentirainell'aria that I breathe, the only love that now I am not afraid to cry, because I have nothing left to lose. A love grows over time, become an accomplice to be protective and that he could evolve sarebbediventato esteem, respect and finally pity, in my old age.

One thing I tell you: do not be afraid to love. Do not be afraid to tell your love that count allepersone and really when you know it really matter, because when you are feeling as well as out of breath.

Papá

Epilogue

did not know how much time had passed dalgiorno of the wreck. At first he kept scoring notches assign to the account tree. Then he saw no more sense: he had never imported iltempo. So she quit.

There was not much to do on the island, sometimes cosìa delighted to carve pieces of wood found on the beach, the sea Sometimes you sit and watch the skyline.

also had learned to eat adarrangiarsi: he still had a small supply of tins of meat, tuna elegumi and sometimes competed with himself to catch fish on the grill dacuocere.

did not care to live osopravvivere. Somehow he had been offered an exceptional gift: quellodi have plenty of time to think and analyze his life and emotions recuperandoricordi, gnawed all the feelings that were ephemeral ericonoscendo people that were really important to him, between LeMill that were bustling around.

One morning the sun was high in the sky. He was standing on the beach, Conin a pencil and paper, where he had begun deisuoi children to draw the face as he remembered it within himself. He had started a few giornoprima when he panicked because of not ricordarebene some details of their eyes and the fear of not being able avisualizzare in mind their faces had done the rest.

Occasionally he looked up from cieloe the horizon where the sea lapped and this was one of those moments that Lavida. It was a rather large boat, one of those tours. After a po'iniziò also to perceive a sound that was to be a music on board. It alzòper look better. He tried to guess the distance, but had never been bravonelle practical things and the distance between his feet and the first cheavrebbe arm could grab could be ten miles or one hundred. Avevadavvero not the sense of that measure. He felt excited at the thought that misfortune would have quellasua end, but at the same time he began to distinguerenel his mind a little 'fear. Symptoms were unmistakable, especially enabled once for so long had come to know every centimeter of self, physical but spiritual, every thrill, every need, every variazionedi mood. It was natural, being alone, having learned to distinguish ognibattito of his heart. Only that the knowledge gained so far was nongli distinguish whether it was fear of fear itself or the fact of averepaura. He hopped from one foot to another, always still the same place, trying to look better horizon.

Suddenly he decided to try and ran nellacapanna SOS rockets. He was sure to have seen them. Arovistare started quickly through the boxes and finally found one. He looked around edentro other cases, but there seemed to be just a rocket. Had to be careful, because he could not waste it. Read with care instructions and took inspiaggia to shoot, hoping that would work and enabling him to esserevisto.

something happened on the way between the beach and lacapanna. Gabriel had come out with the rocket in hand and eraposizionato on the shore. He noticed that the boat was closer. Sembravaincredibilmente close, much more than before and within himself he was sure that chebastasse turn on race, because everything ended and he could return to civil nelmondo. Perhaps the thought was to instill in him memories dellapartenza, loneliness he had left. The images of his ultimigiorni common in the world had fallen off his boat from him just now and avevasalpato were riappiccicando to memory, but felt nonvolerle. Not anymore.

If there was one thing at that time eracresciuta in him, that was the desire to treat themselves to only what eraimportante. Important for him had been only his children and he knew within himself that would be bad for its absence, of course, would statimalissimo. Yet after a while 'would begin to experience its absence comequalcosa natural, with less pain, less suffering. Back direcostringerli wanted to divide again. Do not allow them to return meant diritrovare the unity of heart, living in one place, having one cameradove sleep, to live in one house, one family to love.

thought no more about. He raised his arm and fired a rocket into the sea, farther chepoté. Then came a moment in the hut. Avevascritto grabbed the three letters, put them in three different bottles, locks with a cork ecorse back to shore to throw, too far from him, almost as sevolesse to distance themselves from everything that had and would not have been Nevermore.

So he sat on the shore and watched the horizon Labarca slowly disappear.

The reality is that Gabriel was never found, so now I do not know if this man is still alive or not. I piacepensare that he is somewhere in the Atlantic and reached a suoequilibrio and has achieved in his solitude and serenity felicitàche deserved.

To him I dedicate this story, with the presumption Cheun days and he can tell someone who wants to know where percorreggerla is wrong.

Pati Navida Al Desnudo

Me and You - Nicholas smile

A little gem that reminded me very much "white as milk ..." Alessandro oats.

still a kid, this time in fourteen years. Lorenzo is invented to be invited by some friends at a school holiday week. Convinces her mother to make it go only to the appointment with friends and then come home and secretly hiding in the cellar, ready to experience a week of tuna cans, electronic games and reading books. Olivia arrives unexpectedly, her sister ten years older, in crisis of abstinence. Test stand unmatched for small Lorenzo, which is found on a larger problem with him, but fail to establish a unique relationship and for the whole life with his sister.

intense in some places and lighter in others, a swing of dramatic moments and fun typical of adolescence.

Beautiful, really beautiful.

Somewhere in the tropics, lives a fly that imitates the wasps. It has four wings like those of all its species, but keeps one on, so they sound like. He abdomen striped yellow and black, antennae and bulging eyes and also a fake sting. Never mind, it is good. But, dressed like a wasp, the birds, lizards, even men are afraid. It can get quiet in crawl spaces, one of the most dangerous places in the world and supervised, and nobody recognizes it.

I had it all wrong.

Here's what I should do.

imitate the most dangerous.

I put the same things that they put the others. Adidas sneakers, jeans with holes, a black hooded sweatshirt. I took off the line and I did grow my hair. I also wanted the earring but my mother has forbidden me. In return for Christmas, I gave the motor. The most common.

as they walked. A wide legs. I threw the backpack on the ground and kicks him.

imitate them with discretion. Since imitation is a caricature of a second.

During lessons, I was sitting at the counter pretending to listen, but actually I thought of my things, I invented science fiction. I went well in gymnastics, I laughed at jokes of others, I was stupid jokes to the girls. A couple of times I have also responded poorly to the professors. And I handed the task in the classroom in white.

The fly had managed to fool everyone, perfectly integrated into the society of bees. They thought I was one of them. A right

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Ammaniti

Improvvisamentesi off the light.

not matter what you're doing, or if you're just in the company.

Cala ilsipario. It turns out the light and with it the smile of your mouth and do not need Undo tuoiocchi

stomping on the ground and say "No" You do not need Undo

Not Tuch

Nonstavolta decide when to go.

Intornosenti vacuum

you ritrovicatapultato

Riprendiframmenti in the memories of you and try to reassemble the puzzle

impazziscifino And to discover that missing piece now

And puoifarci nothing.

Impotence Vacuum

Nothing

sentisperduto you, shocked. That piece is missing and will continue to miss

The coseimprovvisamente cease to have meaning, even those that you pensaviimportanti

accorgidei small details of your life that you had put aside

runs after them

chesa Before too late Before

chequalcuno you remove other pieces

Stays With

gliocchi ice on the skin diaphanous

With boccaserrata and teeth that push one another

A groppoalla throat that does not want to dissolve into tears

eyes chiusiper retrieve a memory

Where are you now?

After chocil

The doloredell'assenza pain that will not return to fill

smile will not open more

How coraggioè served to continue to smile in spite of everything? You know you

edil remains guarded secret in you

ildolore After silence

The silenziodi every day and resume its course

dagiorno That day will become night and then again

Up to Cheun other arm around And you will break

will dinuovo pain and silence

Life comeintervallo between pain and another two silences

How paroletra

Why possiamonon never forget what is our destiny

Why possiamoprendere and undermine our existence and what is ephemeral

From what Evile

Risollevatida land and still looks Any such forward

OPOCE road, that does not matter

This is cheimporta walk tall

With ilsorriso we offer as the only weapon of defense

Who vuoleoffenderci and humiliate

This mihai taught

E questoriterrò you .

Peri Menopause Longer Periods

The Trilogy: The Darkness, the Mirror and Light

Darkness

The flame shines in front of my eyes and I see the reflections orange, yellow, blue and green. If I had a mirror in front, I would see my eyes shine through the light, as if I had nothing else to me. I do not know if I'd understand the pain that lurks behind unacknowledged. I do not know if I would venture that in reality the thoughts oppress me now.

I see the flame to approach my mouth in a gesture that I had forgotten a cigarette. But it is the last cigarette of the condemned to death. The last breath. Without feeling guilty. Without feeling the usual reprimands in his ears. Apart from that there's no one beside me telling me that it hurts. But now I know it's the lesser evil. So I aspire, aspire after months of fasting and I feel that death fills my mouth. Cough. I vacuumed too. I did not think there was this effect for me, I smoked years - indeed! - Decades of my life. Evidently these months that I did not I have purged the lungs as well as the brain of his private drugs. Yet I am stubborn and tried again with another breath. This time it's better. I do not cough, I feel the smoke coming down and the brain relaxes. It was time. From the time I want, but I did not imagine more than repeat it again.



I'm sitting on the floor near the window open and look at the park. Small lights illuminate a path where two guys go by. I see them through the smoke I exhale, but they do not know. They do not cares. Do not imagine that someone is watching their kisses and caresses them. Do not care to look for that with his hands and mouth, in a moment that seems to them forever. Around them there is none. They leaned against a bench. He is sitting. She is a little 'lies down with her head on her legs, a bit' put him astride. I, too, once I did. How long ago? I do not remember. I do not want to remember, because it no longer makes sense.

pass two cars. It 's late, is one in the morning and someone is still not in bed. Someone which comes from a party or a dinner among friends, among family members. Who knows. Not that I care, but I am fascinated by the fact that for a moment, a brief moment, we can be united to a stranger for the sole fact of being in one place together. Yes, of course, I'm in my house watching the world outside the window and he's out in the world. Yet here we are. Both. A few meters away and unwittingly we have been united by fate. How often it happens? Every day, everywhere. You are among the people and those people share your moments, sometimes significant, sometimes not. Sometimes you want to forget them while someone else would still remember them or keep them there forever. Think of this moment: these guys there would hold time, the driver would run just a few minutes later to be in bed and not make the effort to get out, go home, go to bed. I. I? I wish I had already concluded what I have in mind and forget about this business.

I hear a noise behind me. At home there is no one, so it will be Alexander, the boy who lives nearby, which comes from somewhere. Maybe he was the driver who was driving. The walls are not so thick, so you can hear everything. I feel when making love to his girlfriend, I feel when I play the guitar, when I hear a vacuum cleaner. And he will hear me when I cry. Why I cry, lately, a lot. Too.

I refocused on cigarettes. It is now almost over. I begin to feel stronger and more bitter the taste, feel the heat closer to your mouth. In the end I liked it. In the end I did not want to stop. I did it for someone else. As my whole life. Lived for someone else, but not for me. And in the end I was left with nothing for me, not even a crumb to fill my stomach when hungry. The only solution was convinced not to be hungry, to have already eaten. Tease. Ironic. Try to laugh, but to me, smiling like a hyena on my life because there is nothing to laugh about.

Good. Now that I smoked I can go on. What was in the plan? The first glass of wine and the first tablet. I wrote everything, so when I annebbierà mind a pattern to follow, I will not be too rational. Go .. throws down ... Done ...

I do not feel any sensation. Only hot, very hot to the stomach. And maybe a chill that comes from outside. A breath of wind that has escaped through the trees and slapped me. Maybe you had noticed what I'm doing ...

Now I light a second cigarette and try to get me an interview. "You have decided to commit suicide and you decide to leave written something to someone. What to write in those. " What a fucking question! But I have already decided and why I write to someone? Someone is interested in me in the last three hundred sixty-five days, by any chance? If you find one person who did that, then I do, I think I should let him write something. But is not there. I can not think of anyone. What should I write and to whom? To my boss and my dear colleagues? Have been cast aside, pushed to do a shitty job which no one cares. I was ridiculed, discredited. They made fun of me, than I was. Always with a smile on the lips. Again with the fake hand open. The company of the Long Knives. Not looking for friendship, no. But even the war. If I wanted the war would have been a soldier. Well ... drink to the health of all my colleagues, those who perhaps a gesture of friendship you have given really, but you were too disappointed to see it. And toast those for which the liquid goes through because he dreams of seeing them trudge like you breathless. Down .. another glass and another small candy .... Feel that hot inside? Who says that death is cold?

"But look around. There's just work, "said the Jiminy Cricket in Pinocchio. Of course, Cricket. There is also love. The love that hurts, it kills you inside. What makes you bleeding inside the soul that not even the smile of a child can open sutures. I have sought love. Anyone can confirm. I tried opening the heart to smile, trusting in who holds out a hand. What did I find? Vampires and demons, ready to suck the soul to hell to sell it. Infidels in search of sex only. Eternal Peter Pan Tinkerbell seeking only to be praised and loved, but only willing to give you a night of joy, against a life of pain. Remember? Yes, I speak just to you. Remember how we met? We were at a party together. I as usual, the little sucker sitting in that chair waiting for someone to come and ask me to dance. Tu. The usual pick all that as long as they breathe. Facing each other. It 'been a while. I've seen your eyes sparkle and I've recognized. Prey. You crossed the forest of people who have divided us and pointed straight at me. Two glasses in hand. "I lost my friend. Would you like a martini? ". I told someone that I love the martini, right? You were beautiful. The yet. Despite his age. Invitasti me to dance. I appiccicasti on your body and tongue in the ear and neck. It was like taking a shower dance with you. But I liked it so much that the mind is clouded, and when you asked me the phone number to call me the next day I did not hesitate even a moment. I shower every day. I could also get used to feel your body on him all day. You called me. I've tried. For months it seemed that I did not live without me. I am looking at all hours. You came to my house in desperation and jealousy. Then one day, poof! You disappeared. I've looked everywhere but did not you find. Until a few weeks ago ... I found you after years ... how many? Twenty? And for me it was like the past one day. You told me "I'll call you." I'm still waiting ... So, listen, listen to this. I drink to your health. Another glass and another piece of candy. I feel the heat. All the warmth I was hoping for from you and you would not have given me.

"Can not have anyone that I love you? A family, children? "Bella this. Where did you read? Tell me about ... come on, I buy the whole book so I can laugh up to the rest of my days ... that is practically a few minutes ... Wait, now I turn on the third cigarette ... I decided that I do the whole package ... is small, there are ten ... You were saying? A family? My father dropped my mother when I was two years. He's gone with a girl who was twenty. But he had his revenge. She has given up after ten. He has not held up and died shortly after. At least he loved her. It 'the only thing that I can take in its defense. But I is not enough. No. It is not enough to fill the void left inside. I still have pictures of me at school, alone with my mother, while most of my companions had also a father next door. E 'dead ... I said so even when he was alive. I know that he was not proud, but it was the only way not to feel guilty for that absence. And you, my mother. Small, humble, slender. She sustained the universe because I do not collapse on him. What helped her to support that weight I do not know. Why he did not know. I guess for me. I guess for that reason that instead of me not to help at this moment ... Children ... I've never had a partner worthy of the name, let alone children ... I should have put the world to make them suffer? I was not of the stature of my mother. I would never have been able to sustain what has held her. No. .. I try to drink the health of my children who are never born, who are somewhere in the universe, inconsistent, shapeless, half of my appearance, and half of the void that is their father. Health ...

Now wait. Stop the interview. I vomit ... I can not stand alcohol, you know ...

Here. I'm back. I feel elated ... I put a little 'music. A little 'good music .. Heavy metal, that of my time ... here .. I light my cigarette and fourth ... What times those in which I went to the disco ... Runway from home before my mother noticed that I was in a miniskirt and go on the bike by Franz ... How many times have I burned with the silencer. I came home with bladders of all the crazy times that I went out with Franz. By now my mother knew ... when he saw those blue spots on my leg saying "You're out again with Franz?". He could not see. He said he takes drugs. In reality ... in fact I saw him only once get a spliff in his sixteenth blue with the hood. I have never smoked nor tasted drugs. I only smoked cigarettes. The first eighteen years, behind the school gate in the alley where we stopped to tell the stories of the night before, then there were no cell phones ... We drink at the technology generation, the one who takes and leaves you with an SMS ... candy and throw down another ... I know that I vomited all the other of the first ... I'll have to start over mica?

I'm getting sleepy ... but the interview must go on ... as the title of a book by Oriana Fallaci "Interview with History". As the title of the song by Queen "Show must go on." Never mind the sleep when you're about to die? "How do you feel?" The interviewer presses. How do you want to hear me, you ugly idiot? I feel bad ... I have many? Four, five glasses of wine in extra-strong stomach, which already is not bad for someone who is sober and almost as many aspirin tablets and tranquilizers. Or at least what's left after having thrown up a bit '. I feel a tremendous heat in and cold out crazy. I do not know how is possible but it is so ... I feel fit inside a strange feeling. I feel this fire burning. As the fire of the lighter ... By the way, here is the fifth cigarette ... are in the middle, but I do not know if I can finish the package. And I feel strange. You know how when you think something should happen and you are convinced and you expect it and you're there like a idiot and you think "is happening now ... and then you realize that nothing has happened ... Well, I do not know if something will happen, but I'm sure so ... legs feel soft. Luckily I was sitting. I have to laugh. Funny. I have nothing to laugh but I laugh. I'm here I write the diary to the computer the last minute. I'm listing the reasons for the more serious and dramatic I decided to kill myself and I laugh. There would almost be pissed off ... already ... there would almost get angry but then because I'm laughing with tears in their eyes? Wait ... Now I get up and do the test of the leg ... See you at what stage ... if I'm standing so I can not kill me immediately. They are too conscious ...

Ouch! Here are falling, then cooking it is the right place ... go, the sixth cigarette ... I must hurry ... then two glasses and two tablets ... feel inside a thick. I feel a pain inside me crazy. The laughter gives way to reality. Why am I here? Would you really know? Why I have not alternative. I have nothing left. My hands are empty. I can not take anything personal around me, nor to receive them. They tell me. Me say that there are more comfortable with me, because I'm selfish, why do I feel like shit, because I pissed off about anything. Why do I do? I wonder but I can not find an answer. I've got a job. Bad people around me, but I've got a job. E c 'are people who do not have it. Women like me because they are whores do not have a job. And I spit on what I have. Should I spit in the face to those who hate me do it. Yet that minimum of decency I have left at the bottom of puts me in a position to do so and not to swallow a bitter pill every day, rather than spit in the face to those who want me to feel like shit. Fire me? I could not live without work. How do I? I go to sleep to the railway station hoping to fall in love with the first Angel City picks me out of pity? No. But I could wait until tomorrow to commit suicide. I could get the satisfaction of redundancies and kill tomorrow night ... No. .. you can not, now are in the middle. The courage, I will not do tomorrow. Should I continue ... speed .. another glass, another tablet and seventh cigarette.

The phone rings. And 'my mother. I let it ring. Would realize that I can not say a word. Before I mumbled something to myself and I realized that I can not put together more than two consonants and two vowels. But it is normal ... force another drink, the health of my mother who continues to call. Mom does not answer you ... I'm committing suicide ... you want to understand? Eh ... yeah, if I understood to be here instead of knocking on the intercom phone. But you've never understood. You were too strong. You were too busy to prevent the universe collapses a bit 'farther than where I was to take care of me. You were once over me, you were the sky above me, always blue, but between you and me there was a vacuum, without oxygen. And 'how I feel. Your love is not able to cross that gap. I saw you breathless, run and I knew that you did for me and basically I felt a little 'to blame for that. I wanted to thank you, but how many ways a child has to thank an adult? An adult is too smitten to realize that in order to avoid overwhelming the world, I needed only to take it away, hold me tight in your arms, close to your heart.

Nothing else, really. Nothing more. I'm here, with the teenager who wrote diaries on Sunday afternoon in his room with the radio on, with the girl behind the poster of drooling Antonio Cabrini because he had no love to occupy the thoughts really, with myself than twenty years ago, one of ten to five. All together in one pain. All together on the same glass. Another and another cigarette. And we are nine.

a constant. The pain was constant. Cut here and there by some happy moment. It is said that the mind removes the painful memories. Well, then I should undergo a lobotomy because my brain is full of things to remove. The phone rings again, but it's a text message. I can not believe. You ... you do live in times when I least expect it. I get to see us tonight ... yes, I could ... I'm alone but I'm making the most important thing in my life and do not want you in the balls. Got it? When I needed and call you were not there. I've thrown out of your life without excuses and explanations, the day after he made love to me. And now I run again meeting, as I did every time you call me? I'm regaining my dignity and some would say "Better late than never." So you do not answer. Even though I is emerging in spite of glamor alcohol a bad design, to tell you to come here by me, then you can enjoy the spectacle of a brain smashed on the asphalt. But perhaps you do not even feel guilty. What does not shine to your person for you not be affected. Even with an extreme gesture capture your love. So fuck it, still there waiting to respond to your message ...

Last Orders last cigarette.

A sip of wine. A puff of smoke. Mix and the effect is deadly. I feel the heat through chest, right between the two breasts and go down to the pit of my stomach and then up quickly to beat me in the head. Fog everywhere. Maybe it really arrived until the last minute. Inhale smoke again ... maybe I have to do it now. Now that I'm not so much with his head. It will be easier to lose balance and fly. How nice ... I can not wait to taste it. Open your wings and soar up finally, a moment before falling down. The sounds begin to soften around ... I have to act quickly, otherwise collapse before I could get on the windowsill. I support the computer because I have to stop writing, but somehow I continue to tell the end ...

Here ... close your eyes and hear my voice that says: I did ... are on the ledge. Below me the void. Total. I'm in the ideal situation: blank inside and blank out. The librium should govern, is ultimately a physical law that balance or not? What would the prof in high school, that I never questioned why so much in physics nerd and knew I was studying? If two forces are pulling in the opposite direction on an object with the same intensity as the object remains stationary, correct? Last breath. Then I go ... really, I gotta go. Trattenetemi not more. The story is over. Back to doing what you did before. Lose well this end. This is so bitter. Back to where you were. Where were you? In the office and have decided to take a break? A home as your wife, your husband, your mother or your father yelling that dinner is ready? Either you are screaming to turn off your computer because it is a lot like an idiot in front of you? Listen to them. E 'sage advice. Stop reading this shit and go back to your life.

Forget my life. E 'mine, not yours and you should not necessarily be here to hear about. I am no one for you, you know? Not me. I do not understand what it is that keeps you attached to his eyes to this story. Think about it. Maybe if I know you could act before I arrived at this point, right? Think about it. And if you do not know me then what do you care to read the end? And 'the last time I ask. Shut down and go. If you go forward, you will remain a bitter taste. If you go, you never know if I really did, but you will remain a hope.

I hope I do not anymore. I stopped by a little 'hope of obtaining it.

I do not have a place here on this earth ... I never had. I can only fly. In the dreams of others. In the excitement of the live of others. But I do not live with me. I do not live my life. So I decided that if I do not have a life, then I can decide when I want to die. For example now. The heart beats wildly. The eyes go from heaven to earth. I feel dizzy. The sense of balance is ceasing. I feel that I must go. Come on, then you'll see that it's all over, I tell myself. What is this feeling that appears at the eleventh hour and why? It does not change what I think. It does not change the reasons why I went above ... and then .. I have to go, yes ...

One ... I'm afraid ... Two ... I fear my God, I fear, however, I know ... I must go.

Just a moment. A snap. You make so many images in my mind. Smiles, tears, faces, objects, thoughts, places, memories, regrets, caresses.

Three.

Mirror

I suck!

I look at that and I can only think that.

You can have my face, my eyes. You can talk with my mouth and make gestures with my hands. But you can not be me. You are a universe away from what I have inside me.

You are wrong, you're a liar, you're ruthless. Do not believe in anything.

I could not even tell that objective.

do not know if you have one. I have my doubts.

After all, think about your life.

Get a topic at random. The family. What do you have?

Watch. Ask for, well that sucks. You have upended what had laboriously built for years. You ruined your husband forever and your son to chase what? Who? A prince or a bastard? Essert You say you love? At your age?

But what do you know, love, little fool? For you love is still that of a fairy tale: and they lived together happily ever after? Love is not, honey, wake up!

Love is getting up the next morning to those who still want to fight that day with you. Love is wanting to wake up next to you having the person who has struggled so far with you. Love is not able to do without the other defects of its merits and be sick. You know? Have you ever experienced? O at the first difficulty you have said "Enough" and you gave up?

Take another topic. Your parents. Where am I?

At some point you're gone. Out of sight, out of mind. And so it was. Did you frigate of their lives they shrank, they could not anymore.

Yet you wanted.

Yet you have loved.

Yet you have tried.

Maybe they went wrong, but you, as a mother, you think he never wrong with your son?

not ask where they were when they were suffering. Ask yourself where you are now when they suffer.

not ask where they were when you needed love. Ask yourself where you are now when they ask for love.

Go, go forward with the list. Work? What do you want? Being a CEO? Try to be content. After all do not work degrading. You are not humbled each day as it happens to some people who work for a spit of money. Your money will earn them good money ... or am I wrong?

Sure, you're holding for you. There are small little battles and feuds, sometimes come home with some injury. But basically what you expected? You just roll out the red carpet entrance and you gave four young men waving feathers when you're hot?

Alarm, girl ...

More and more I look at you wonder how you do every day to support the image you have of you, believe you invincible to believe they can split the world into believing that everything will be due.

You know what's behind you? You know what I see in your eyes?

I see emptiness.

You do not think. You do not even let you touch the thought.

you abandon the instinct and you care about what causes around you.

But you know I've counted the days, right? But this does not make you change.

Every day head on, boldly, go through your day until the evening.

Then you arrive here, in this house, in front of this mirror.

And you dismount.

Put away the eye candy.

Put away the smile.

You look inside and see what you do not like.

How do I change? How do you change?

Where is the lever to turn and change direction?

Maybe you do not know where to go, but only enough to turn a bit '.

Have you read this morning that woman? Yes, the one who committed suicide.

The envy? Do not know anyone who has never envied another because it is able to take his own life. Worrying your statement ...

I understand, however. You are envious of his choice. You are envious of his choice.

That woman in one way or another has been able to choose, she found the courage to take a stand.

And you?

You are stuck at the fork and stay there, turning his head first to the left and then head right.

And you decide. You do not see anything good neither to one side or the other.

Maybe because it's in your eyes that lacked a soul.

Maybe because your mind is wandering.

You are on the border between good and evil. Like doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

the morning play as the villain and return in the evening and you in front of this mirror you say that your soul do not like.

Do something then.

Choose. Choose whether to stay in the dark or walk in the light.

Only you can decide. Nobody will do it for you.

Even I who am your mirror image.

Light

My hand trembles as he leans on the door of the church and urges him to get inside. We must make a big effort because it is one of those massive gates of the old ones with all the reliefs depicting images of the Prophets, a little 'bruised by time, the color green in some places. I push with all my strength and I think that is a metaphor for hard work and commitment that involves being a Christian. And 'as if God would tell me "If you want to come talk to me you really want, you really believe it, because hard work to come in here and I believe that there is."

When inside I realize I'm alone. The church is empty and the loneliness is amplified in the high and narrow aisle where my every breath could be lost without my being able to find him. I look around. I'm really alone. But I do not care, or better, so maybe God can listen to me. You do not have anyone else to hear. All ears for me, if you have ears. Funny ... as you imagine us because we have made in Your own image and likeness, but then I wonder how does a pure spirit like you to have the nose, ears and mouth. You can not ... really not. I lose a smile and what I am heartened. Even good for me coming here after so long. How much? I do not remember anymore. A lifetime ago, maybe. When I attended the oratorio because I liked Daniel, but he saw the girls. It was bigger than me!

Perhaps I know why I came ... Like everyone, I remembered you when I thought I need you. I read this morning that woman who committed suicide by throwing himself from the window sill. How sad! They found an empty pack of cigarettes and wine. The two mobile phone calls unanswered: who knows what would have happened if he had said ... He recounted his evening on a PC until it is up on the windowsill. It must have been terrible to see you there, alone, screaming for help and do nothing, true God? Why You give us life but then you give a damn about what happens to us. I have called "free will" but, when we err, as a good Father forgive us but then not help us bear the burden of our guilt. And what kind of father are you then? Let us decide our lives, and punish if we decide to remove it, but what you did because you could carry the weight of sorrows with the life you gave us?

I know, I know. It is not a Christian attitude. This I learned as a child ... He traveled a lot of stories about you. I remember one in particular, the one that tells you to walk at our side and when the prints become two of four is not really why have you forsaken us, but because we're carrying in her arms. Bella. Yes, the image is beautiful. When I was sick, I always thought, 'Well, now God comes and takes me in his arms,' but you never came and I said "There will be someone more in need ... at the bottom of mine are small things .. "But this did not give me any comfort, you know? Did not help to lift the heart from the weight I carried, without you. Do not help me to wake in the morning with a smile. You say it all: "Smile, so things have improved. I tried to mummify a smile on my face and heart, but it did not do anything. When I suffered there was nobody. I was always alone in it. A loneliness that you break. See so many around you. Does anyone really gives you a smile, a hug and a comforting word. Da 'heat. Just for a moment. Then it is inevitable that in you back the darkness. The small bulb lights up only to be smothered by the darkness: the darkness can survive forever. The bulb burns out sooner or later. Sure, you tell me: I am the light. But it does not shine for me, I learned it. Maybe I'm the other lost sheep for which shine. Not for me. I escape your eyes. They are there, outside your field of vision. In the cold of the dark cave, away from the ox and dall'asinello making heat. Sometimes I feel just like that and you can not do anything. Or maybe you do not want ...

Therefore, God, I understand that woman. I understand it really. There are times when you find yourself facing a wall. You know you're going to crash and then you think it is useless to slow the rush. Indeed. You decide to speed it up so why do not you think about it over and over. So you know that nobody cares. Both know the pain of a death in intensive takes you a bit 'and then passes. E 'in human nature. Perhaps you yourself have made sure that no pain is strong enough to stay in time. And maybe ourselves if we think of this, we decided to survive the wall, figuring that after the crash, there is something for which it is worth our pain to survive. Survive. Literally live on it. Above the pain that grips the heart. Above the hope that it's gone. On each morning, when your eyes open and you curse the moment when the night ended and the sun has begun to rise, because as a vampire you can not stand the light. Are used to the dark, maybe I'll even try!

I understand. Of course you do because I know what it means when love is not there, when all around grip disappearing, like a mountain on which you're hiding its climb rocks where you could find support. I do not know whether we should have more courage to dare to live or die. Perhaps the second. Decide every day to get up from that bed, however, is to have all the power of this world to raise every inch of skin that pushes most of the force of gravity to stay down. Means having the courage to open his eyes when they weigh as burglar gate. It means something to swallow, however, even when the stomach is completely closed and you back up what you eat. It means to cover up and go when it's cold, plunge into moods of people in the metro, to grasp the smells, rub their pain - not just those that everyone already has! - Warm up to their joys, to get to work and draw a breath of fresh air before going on the glass door and face the humiliation of every day, colleagues who look at you wrong, you are a tripping colleagues, colleagues that you smile and then it's up to you whether a smile is right or wrong. Get out now and then when you head for home, with the bitterness of every day, pulling his neck to survive as a mother and wife, and eventually get tired at night, unwilling to simply vanish in the night's sleep. It takes courage, a little courage every day. Easier to let go and say "Enough."

you from up there I wonder how many laughs you do ... true? See rush us, see that we fight for something that does not make sense and laugh, laugh at us. Only sometimes we realize our smallness. When something bigger bursts into our lives, only then will we understand. Why are grand, we ... because we realize how useless our retaliation of the work only when something about the family or health takes us off guard. Only then will we realize that we have given too much importance to something that should not have it. And you laugh at the ... mouth without laughing, because you are pure spirit ... but you laugh or smile at what we are infinitesimally small and stupid. Claim to know everything about life, but we do not understand that a poor side. And you you know ...

do not know why I came here in years. Perhaps that suicide hit me. Too many times because I thought it was the only way and if they are still here only because every time rejected the idea of \u200b\u200bbeing in a dead end and would always try the other road that walk together, because he had to be somewhere Part ... I was lucky in that. Perhaps if this woman had seen another way would not have plunged into the void. Yet he did. Evidently she was against the wall, flattened. They have not published anything of what he wrote but I'd like to read it. I'd like to read up to that point in distress and our thoughts have in common that crossroads where it begins that one side takes you to death and the other brings you to life. Some people do not see a road. I'd like to know what the other is hidden in their eyes and how they feel in the stomach, brain, heart and stomach when they decided to call it quits and are at the last minute, last second before leaving. I want to understand where I'm different, because there, in that my diversity, up to now has been kept my salvation.

There is a strange silence and a strange light in here. Maybe it's just my impression or maybe my memory does not work. I have lived here for years, I went to these places in my childhood. I have some flash of communion, confirmation, profession of faith. Then the oratory. That's it. Perhaps a marriage of childhood friends. Nothing more. I feel the sweet smell of incense. I've always liked. It reminds me of the most important celebrations in which the altar was incensed. Remember something sacred, something immortal that goes further than all our little things. Something that we can not understand, at least now. Tomorrow who knows.

I almost feel uncomfortable. I do not know. Observed by you. When viewed from above. Do not get me wrong. I do not feel judged. For the first time in my life I am not ashamed of what I did, but I feel understood. A strange feeling. I who have always tried to understand others, to perceive the needs, now suddenly I feel a strange collection in an embrace, and including, without the need to speak to explain how I feel. God, what are you doing? You're picking up? As in the fable of fingerprints ... ? Maybe you're picking up from my own weight and you feel you're doing inside of me. It would be nice to believe, but life is not a fairy tale. What do you tell small soon proves to be a great white lie. They tell you that life is beautiful, love and warmth. But love hurts. This is not no one tells you. You find out about you, from first love to betray you, you violate, abandon you, ignore you, you wear in the brain and heart. From these innocent love to the others who live as an adult, those which hang all your hopes, loves that are unlawful or adultery. It can happen, damn it, let's face it. It may happen that one day you wake up and find yourself in love with another. Or at least think so. And do not say it's love, the one with the capital "A". Just even a simple love affair to feel displaced, with the infinity of differences that exist between the two feelings. You feel lost. And you feel lost. Maybe you take your turn in the suffering of your heart for a moment did it seem. Falling in love is subtle: you take without your knowing it. Play with your life with those around you, color other nuances that you love, light shines and what you did not obscure what you have, so you are naturally led to what is other than you, more from your life. And day after day you're alone and increasingly around the vacuum increases. A void that can not fill.
Even I feel an empty body. The soul does not know where it is. I betrayed myself and what I thought to be. I betrayed the trust of those who supported me. I have betrayed. Someone stole my joy, the smile and the will to live. I'm sitting here in this empty church because I would be lying at the foot of the altar to be present at my funeral. Only at that moment you jump out of all those who loved her. Before no ... that's funny true? Before no one beside you, no one who will restore the soul you lost. Just then the breath of life comes out of you and you become another of their eyes. I do not like, you know? I wish people would open their eyes, I saw how they really made in and accept me as I am, before I die. It can hurt, maybe that's why people under the illusion that you are different from what you are and then we are left disappointed when he discovers that he only deluded. But you can you do if you have always shown how you been? The illusion is their fault, not yours.

You no, I'm not sure you're wrong about people. You know what we have inside. For better or for worse. And let us choose whether to fight our fight or give up and leave the field. How many times I jumped in mind to stop and get off this bus? Thousands ... since I was a kid ... but I will always formed the idea that a defeat was down and I'm not a loser. I just sling the bull arena rather than give up the idea of \u200b\u200btrying to fight. I'm just like. Perhaps they are luckier than women: she had neither force nor reason to fight, maybe. Or maybe not? I am no one to judge. But you, yes ... do not bother with her even if he was wrong. Not after that life has given her nothing. At least you, in your infinite mercy from something to hold on. Although it is now too late. Who says it's late?

How strange ... You know? I do not feel alone anymore. I look around, but no one entered the door. I feel a bit 'warmer inside, the heat which is good, in which we can cuddle and sleep ... is like ... I do not know ... It is as if there was more light around here .. as if I were in the spotlight and taking themselves a monologue to an audience that listens silently off the stage. I do not see my audience, but I feel the breath and the attention on me. Are you my audience? Eh? You who are listening to me? If I had known it was so easy to get your attention I was coming first, years and years ago ... I do not know ... it is as if I had a little 'sweetness more than in and want to continue to believe that one day things can change. Why is this the end, no? It 's the fear of not having more dreams that kills us inside. Just get one, only one, and things change, the hopes are reborn, revived the desire to walk a little more 'to see if things are exactly as you think. You are this hope? Who knows ... I know that just before entering I felt this feeling of hope .. now something is changing ... has changed ... I am convinced that basically there is nothing that is not worth living ... I wonder if that woman were to come here instead of jumping out the window, I wonder if his heart could have been formed just a little hope ...

Or maybe it's just an illusion ... Have you ever suffered? You have never yielded to temptation? You've never been stifled by the pain? No, You do not know, nor pain, nor temptations. We are not like you. You know very well and can not figure ... You make fun of us, our hardships, our way of interpreting inconsistent life.

Please God, not now. Do not mock me. I came here to beg for this. I hear something that stirs in me and I know that is your work. I thank you not now. Thank you when I realize to be in your arms, because it still seems to me to walk alone. But you're wrong ... should meddle more of our life and make you feel more. Brings hope to those who think they do not have more. Bring your warmth to those who die in the cold indifference. Sometimes they are a thousand small problems where we feel suffocated. Yet just enough to make us see things differently. Do ... costs you nothing, but cost us a life or maybe even two, three ...

I get ... a bit 'puzzled that long monologue. The church is still empty, wrapped in that light a little 'odd one slips through the mosaics on the roof of the two aisles. I set out among the desks, when suddenly I hear a noise. I turn and several benches on, just where I was sitting before, I see a woman. I did not see go, probably came from one of the side entrances. E 'kneeling on the bench with his head resting against the back of the bench in front of her and her body trembles in sobs. I would go back, but suddenly something happens that stops me, a huge beam of light rests upon it, while a little 'heat of that light comes to me. I have the impression that something is lifting the woman to go to the source of that light, something dark and smoky that she moves towards the light, while the tears slowly fades until they ceased. The woman sits, clasping her hands in prayer and after a while 'gets up and walks away.
Turn your back to walk towards the exit and I feel like a hand on my shoulder. I turned around but there is none. A bit 'strange, shooting out the door for me seems strangely lighter. "Can not" think. Yet suddenly I myself feel lighter, as if someone had taken some of the weight I had in me when I entered and had given me even more forcefully as I left. The sun dazzles me but I'm not afraid anymore.
I do not understand what happened in the last ten minutes.
But perhaps it is not necessary for me to understand ...