October 2006

* How ... when ... ... raining outside ...*

* How ... when ... it's raining outside ... ...*

announced the birth of the first electronic story-written and produced with the help of "friends of the Web" in ViviCentro.

I must say that was a challenging experience and the result makes you want to continue the experience.

As soon as the "godfathers", the creators and curators of the initiative (and the authors Carmen Cafaro and Luca Balducci writers) have the confidence and will have time on their hands I am sure you will continue the experience with other initiative.

For now enjoy the results of the first "babe" of Vivicentro here has seen the light thanks to the sharing:

"Authors:
Cecil1959-Cleo-Phaedrus-Ishtar-Mitla-Odrey
Brescia October 1 (remember ... was once the first day of school) 2006 "

and thank Carmen and Luke for the wonderful initiative and the excellent work of the first stimulus and connecting the end.

All thanks!.

Here, here, the story:

was walking in the rain slowly, letting the drops even entered my ears, muffling the sound of annoying ... Car
"... Where is the wisdom today? Serenity ?..."
My ears whistle like the train that was leaving. It will not ever
that train.
was my life I saw that train without leave.
No passengers. Not even a tint. Only
smell of iron sickle, greasy, receding forever.
It was felt that nostalgia or regret.
was more than cruel, dry.
that station as I walked in on high stilts and the white face clown. I watched with a mocking smile of despair.
head: a bee buzzing.
The metal casing came off slowly.
I could see and recognize a part of me on the seats.
I looked without sight, speech, life.
fly, touching all around, pushing to get out.
tried to exist, survive, come back to me.
I've always loved that clipping of me is intoxicating, my real talent.
But the train moved away and I could not run with those and I could not walk without stilts.
I could only laugh as a clown with a hideous grin, scorning my tears could not wash the clumsy trick, but it cemented.
Tears that corrode skin. Women
reptile skinned.
With my skin, I have that covered wagon train receding slowly. I watched him disappear. It evaporates in the rain, was colored.
Whenever I'm in a station, that train, those same feelings, as here today, then the same thoughts, same emotions.
And it rains ... I hate the rain!
That feeling will not stick to wet skin in the summer after just one hour of rain or the cold that gets into your bones, in winter when it gets too cold to snow.
The melancholy that takes you, when you look out the window and see smoke and drops bouncing on the asphalt, only fools and poets inspired by water droplets.
On the water then all the crap that we release into the air is contained in those particles of H2O.
I feel particularly cynical this morning, sitting at the bar at this small station, to wait for the cloud "fantozziana" rises from the foot.
Do I have to go to the firm, in a city that not even I know, I owe to myself.
And no sign of stopping.
observe the road: everyone running towards the taxi and bus stops.
"Aiutooo, the rain," he murmured, with irony.
And who is it?
What a strange woman! Remains motionless, still, in the middle of the road.
What is stunned? The look good, at least I try, my myopia prevents me to focus on the faces.
Damn, but it is young, will have a maximum of twelve years.
It 's all wet poor.
That will be fixed?
It's none of mine, and then it rains I do not want to get out of this hole-shelter.
Yet there is something in her, she seems almost to know it.
You can not, like so much to my mother as a young man in one of those black and white photographs that sometimes looks melancholy.
's unbelievable.
If only stopped staring at me.

And then ... Damn me, because I feel this need to reach?
better go and see, maybe is sick, in need of 'help.
Get out, despite the rain ... I pay for my cappuccino and I left the bar.
The girl is gone, behold, I knew it!
I reach the sidewalk, I look around ... damn rain!
Where am I? In hospital? What's happening? I do not remember anything.
Or maybe you ... I remember walking in the rain, slowly, letting the drops I even entered in the ears, annoying, muffling the sound of the car ...!
hair flat on the cheek without a trace of my mass of curls, makeup melted all over his face, staring in front of me.
trudged along, like an automaton, each step heavier than the previous one, it seemed that I wet my raincoat anchored to the sidewalk. I felt vaguely, beyond the fog enveloped my thoughts, through which I touched, I collided with their umbrellas, all directed toward their goals, their homes, their families, but did not see them.
A boy who was passing next to me hit me with his backpack, detaching it from my slumber.
Now I was there, that stops on the sidewalk, soaked to capacity, with neither the desire nor the strength to move.
Alone, in my eyes the image of an old and wrinkled legal document that the attendant at the nursing home where my father was dead, had failed to send, along with his few belongings. In a word
head, I hammered in, much to hurt me: TAKEN!
Now I begin to remember .......
Just before I was sitting at a table in the bar waiting for the train would stop raining and looking for a little while, to focus my attention on something else that was not the appointment with the notary, who had always handled the business my father and, given the friendship that bound them, he would know give me an explanation.
Slowly, the memories become clearer, it seemed to me to see a girl in the rain staring at me, looked like he needed help, I remember thinking that looked like my mom as a teenager. My mom, not the woman who raised me, I definitely loved him like a mother ..... but now I know, it was not my real mother.
No, did not resemble my mother, but then because it seemed to know, having already seen it? Where I saw? It was a memory linked to the period prior to my adoption? I had to be small, when I was adopted, but how old I was?
It is said that a mother is the one that you grow, the fundamental principle of education, but of ethics? Discover
so late that Mom has a meaning rather than another?
pregnant women everywhere I see, I went almost annoying to see them, because I realize that the woman who for years I looked into his eyes, which I have committed my life I have never brought it inside, but only with himself.
The difference, apart from language and concept is certainly pragmatic. As early as
... I read somewhere "mom belly" and "mother heart".
I had heard one evening when my parents were arguing, once again, after that I had gone there to sleep.
I had resisted making eavesdropping more than em'ero ... so, I discovered the truth!
know of somewhere in the world have a "mother's belly" was not needed at this point, to appease the strange feeling of restlessness that I carried him for a lifetime, so it was easy to enter into a jumble of crooked streets, dirty, perhaps uncomfortable, in which my unconscious ventured every day. Thus
that the station became the strategic point of view: white women, dressed in every color ed'ogni fashion, career women, skinny women, hysterical women, women ...
A loud noise, metal, unexpected turns into a glow then slowly fades and they appear the outlines of my surroundings: a garden, my garden, plants, wicker coffee table, my heart pounding with fear and disoriented, I understand that I was sleeping and dreaming.
Another shot as before, but now I am most familiar, Lapo is the son of the neighbors that kills the boredom kicking the ball on the garage door, damn him, however, is so sweet and so alone, and so nice, when it passes under the hedge and is playing with me, making me forget the aches of my weary bones.
A figure in silhouette, sitting on a chair is partially hidden by a large sheet of paper, a newspaper, but I recognize it easily from the usual pleated skirt, my mother, or better, for accuracy, the one that in my life has been proposed as such.
Breathe out slowly, reassuring beat of the heart, and try to recover the dream images that are evaporating, but it is difficult, because the dream is often the same: the station, the train, the child, mothers of rutile feelings.
But, as always, something out of place: is not my language, are not my colors and shapes do not resemble me, I feel different and also there is a sort of confused recollection that I get blurred, as un'indecifrabile feeling, which I think she who nursed me not want to part with me.
Bah! many years in this family must have confused my references instinctive.
I stretch with a noisy yawn, stretch up to touch both arms of the wicker sofa on which I was sleeping and my movement attracts the attention of the figure leggente, which begins with a broad smile and a sing-song tone and sharp: "Finally you woke up doll. you thirsty? I've paid just now fresh water, come from the mom to make you do the pampering.
After the long yawn, go back to cuddle, and she: "From the lazy, take off from there, that some friends are coming."
I insist that, so I move, and with a clumsy jump , landed on the grass and I go back to my small outbuilding.
Along the way, I keep the nose down, to better capture the refreshing pleasures of fresh cut grass, but with eyes fixed, as always, those strange marks on penned the entry of my house, I can not read, but which, over the years I learned the meaning.
Before entering, lifted his head and my ears long-haired fawn stop dragging the grass wet, and I think the writing port: Dolly, but that fucking name.
"Dolly, Dolly ..."
The voice of my little girl is happy and tinkling, and calls his faithful companion, no longer a puppy.
She is no longer just a girl, and slowly coming out of the cocoon awkward childhood to become a young creature, I bet, will be pounding the heart of many of his peers.
I try not to think about the day when I will take home the first "Morosini", or even the boyfriend "official."
God, that anger!
Not so much for Freud's compensation, according to which a male is really impossible to become friends with someone who is sleeping with your daughter, what for a much more cold and cruel reality: If my daughter is growing up, I, on the other hand, I'm getting old!
I realize almost every moment, every movement.
Practicing Tai-Chi gives me some relief, but I am fine account of the slight effort it costs to stay balanced on one leg, or during certain periods of the Minimum tremor of the hand holding the sword in the other.
Only two years ago not perceived, as opposed to now.
Watch the edge of the blade, as trembles.
Gradually, you say.
seems to me the trembling of a drunk instead.
All symptoms of a single diagnosis, which already made me a barber in my village when I first found the white hair, a few years ago.
"Boy, you're not made of iron even you," she said with an ingenuous smile, unaware of how my life would change in two years and I had to face tragedies.
The sword moves and hisses decided cleaving the air, and while my legs trying to adjust to the speed of my arms, I see the policeman who knocks on my door and giving me the news that he would never want to give and I never wanted to hear.
"I am sorry, but there was an accident on the A21. ... His wife."
A growl coming out of my mouth, while the sword pattern designs, intended to keep at bay the ghosts that are already crowding into my mind.
"Dolly, Dolly!": The voice of my daughter, broke the spell.
My child, light and fresh as the foam of the sea and the clouds of heaven, the only one that has given and continues to give me strength.
I wish there was still my wife by my side to help in the difficult task of bringing it in this world that seems to ooze hatred and violence from every pore.
To tell me that yes, a new world is still possible that we can cheat the time.
stuck his sword in an invisible enemy, and then the actress, according to a centuries-old now, I reverse grip el'affondo behind me.
Dolly My daughter in her arms and looks at me funny and a little 'puzzled, as he always does when he sees me practicing these exercises.
smile at her and she smiles back.
"Christ, because it reminds me of my wife," I think ...
I wipe the sweat from his brow and stop the exercise.
my wife was right, oh yes ... more I look at my daughter, the more I think, "Yes, together we can damn, that bastard of time." Lapo
breaks, running, and almost trips over the hose I use to water the white roses, so much love from my wife.
"Hello Anna. You want to come with me to fish?" I brought you the bamboo strips identical to the one you saw yesterday in the store. "
My daughter turns glancing painting: irresistible frieze.
impossible to resist.
walks beside, laughing and chatting and I feel that I already have precluded their baroque world and poised.
For them it is easy to live with enthusiasm.
exude joy unusual for an insect or bait down the orange.
Their sound is muffled, as they move apart, until the intense color of the grass swells and swallows them.
My mind is cloudy until then, becomes lighter.
Anna lives in my skin, every day in choosing which pore.
saved me!
I became like a plastic bottle, trapped in a natural gorge at the side of a raging torrent, harnessed by long skeletal fingers that pulled me in, I freed, then down again.
Anna, my daughter ... the child who, with stunned eyes, she says smiling, "Good thing I got you," he resurrected. Dolly
barks ......
"Honey, here I am" I rush "Everything okay?".
"Daddy, Daddy, hold me, I had a terrible dream"
"My honey I'm here beside you, do not be afraid. "The man with a soft gesture moved the gray hair and capricious revealing the painful uncontrollability of time, freeing the beautiful high forehead, an unequivocal sign of a deep and complex DNA and reassuring voice spoke to her as only a father can do: 2 I've never talked about Dolly? For a moment I thought ... small, I rushed .... because you do not know how to tell you .. You were barking. "Since you were born
log your every move, your every sigh, every laugh you because you are my music, my literature, my art ... A little while ago, but I understand feeling barking! You are much more and woof of your M'illumino. You Dolly six beloved daughter, my dog \u200b\u200bdied under the rails of a high-speed train. Oh my darling , lost and found.
Now everything is clear, except ... they are attacked by an intruder thought: if you're a dog, who am I?
From the corridor came the sound of people running to the coordination and ordering. The noise approaches, a key turns once, two, three and the door opens.
Three men dressed in black burst in without asking permission and would soon begin a new dream.
Elettroshock .. Still angry
muscles for the insult, abuse therapeutic electroshock ...
white gowns grab me, tie me ... guffaw, temporal veins ... the meat curls, thoughts, cooking, whirlpool.
I can see the crumpled car on the highway .... the futility of my awakening in the dark and fetid pit .... the car of the train, within reason, passion, the will to live that is brewing away .. .
...... my mother abandoned me and caress me for always giving me the fear of being loved ... rivers of strangers smiling at me.
Everything turns, whirling tornado dissonant.
I feel burned, do not resist ... fog, then dawn.
Something takes refuge in my hand: soft chenille, delicate, fresh, hot ... but clear and refreshing.
Open up both in front of my eyes.
"Hello Anna" ... it all comes back to run.
The phone rings, and the startled night ahead of a few seconds, the breathless rush to the phone: "Hello ..." Anna
moves clumsily down the hospital corridor.
is not the first time that the emergency down off the bed, but the information was swollen belly enormously since the last time.
a month, missing only one month of birth of their child and it was not like he had imagined the wait.
Actually had imagined it all differently, or perhaps had not thought enough, or he would stop first.
sooner? The answer
rudimentary stops abruptly in front of the small mirror next to the door opposite the stairs to safety.
The furrows in the dark eyes hint at the unmistakable traces of a beauty that does not leave easily overcome.
He had never taken too seriously his physical appearance.
He had played occasionally enjoying, fun and surprises, the effect on men that caused those features imperfect but cleverly assembled. Nothing more: had never been willing to bet on something he could not control.
The mind draws a wry smile el'avrebbe led nowhere if the voice of a young man had not interposed, a bit 'inappropriate:
"Come on lady, this way ... .. when he is born, male or female?" asked the nurse, making a sign to enter the second room on the left.
He had wanted to see her, even when that little curly little head came out from her womb ... so they had taken away in a hurry, the nursery, where an employee of the juvenile court, already alerted by day, compiled a series of modules, to foster care. Why
that strange feeling of anxiety, in arriving at the law firm?
All in all it was to attend to a bureaucratic practice, or so he told her to phone the lawyer, Dr. De Magistris.
Lapo De Magistris, a brilliant Roman fifties, sat behind his desk in cherry, immersed in the reading of a deed of sale, when the buzzer intercom interrupted him: "The lady who was waiting in the waiting room is, I can accommodate? "said his secretary.
"Of course, two minutes into his face," he said, almost annoyed.
When she entered the studio, he was shot from behind, aim to replace some of the cards in mobile behind the desk.
suddenly turned pale: the same features, in a disconcerting intensity.
She must have realized, as he stood in the doorway, not daring to approach the two soft leather furniture and dark.
Lapo himself together, though, what is parried before his eyes looked like the frame of a film in black and white, like a film already seen. Anna
He saw with his mind, his travels to the river, his father, the verses of Dolly ... how many years had passed? Twenty ... no, maybe ... twenty-five
"What a fool, I have a birth date before, on the text," he thought, trying to set the tone for voice, interspersed in an emotion vibrant and clear. The
read the text, explaining the steps to do, to take possession of the estate, and all obligations to be undertaken in case of acceptance.
The girl seemed not to hear at all, as he was taken to look at his eyes and his hair and, in truth, the lawyer also seemed to have noticed.
"You know, young lady, who knew his family?" He said, trying to change the subject, which seemed of no interest.
He did not need to listen more ... to De Magistris had said that it was abandoning the legacy that stupid ... huh? Yet that figure would have given a decent future for the rest of life and, in front of the following laws and rules that he had tumbler, had hastily dismissed the situation, expressing his willingness to donate the entire sum to charity.
I went outside and raining ... I walked in the rain, slowly, letting the drops even entered my ears, muffling the sound of annoying ... Car
Authors:
Cecil1959-Cleo-Phaedrus-Ishtar-Mitla-Odrey
Brescia October 1 (remember ... when was the first day of school) 2006

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