strength tests always end up getting the better of me. The car had just begun to travel the 600 km that separated the incivility that we leave behind and the total lack of civility that was waiting for us ahead. My father drove silently, my uncle was snoring, I was not doing nothing but look out the window holding my balance at the head of Trouble sleeping on my lap. The intermittent white line gave a sense of endless torture, and marks the passage to the mountains waiting for us. "Here you take a radio, put a bit 'of music," says my father. I was hoping it was not Toto Cutugno or some other provincial Italian singer. The last time I listened to the little island of white for no less than the DJ, I had stopped at the thought of having to also deal with all those that made the choir. Part one cd Mia Martini. I feel uncomfortable in dealing with its complete ignorance of basic things in the world, but his pain of love is enough to calm down a little. Only suffering knows appease the suffering, or at least feel less out of place.
do not know who made me do, I do not know if you resist 48 hours in a row with the blood of my blood to tell me stories about how you have to kill an animal. Death is already so present in the faces that I meet on the street that maybe looking directly into the eyes of a dead animal and gutted can dispel, and push towards life.
The mountains we swallow in steep channels, then more steep. I still think that at the end of this road the cliffs We shake in a vise from which we can not get out more. I can not breathe and I'm bursting from the desire to smoke. My eye continues to scrutinize the fuel level, sooner or later this cart will even stop to drink gasoline. But the move millimeter laciano I hope more and more convinced I am that I like Anne Frank, who died two days before the liberation. I'm going to leave the skin 2 km from the service due to lack of nicotine.
I still think about good intentions, the idea that I had made a u n tete-a-tete with my father, the man who looks at me and I do not understand. I wanted to please him, spend some 'quality time with him. The hunt, I thought, it's done of silence, or so the words will not help. I just wanted to be near him a little, feel a sense of complicity that we have lost, if we ever had. She watched him joking with my uncle at his side, I laugh from the back seat, but my smile does not reach the front. Maybe it's better that way, at least I do not run the risk that it looks forced. Trouble continues to turn over in his seat looking for a comfortable position, but too many hours in the car makes him nervous. I feel him more akin to my father. Every time I think I ask to remove here, a way to go back I would find easy. But my mouth is glued to my father for giving me the illusion of him.
Finally the motorway services, unmount even before the car stops, jump down behind me Trouble. We made only 300 km, and it is only 3 hours from the start.
0 comments:
Post a Comment