Ferrovia
In viaggio per Trieste
Scivolando, correndo sulle linee di ferro,
Mi domando se
quella che vedo tra il grigio
il marrone dei campi
e il verde di pioggia dei prati incolti
è nebbia o fumo
o solo foschia, densa e nemica,
che non ha nomi.
La nebbia è come vento rappreso.
E' condensa.
Il vento è come quelle persone
Che viaggiano sempre
E si aggrappano alle stazioni di servizio,
alle valigie,
ai palmari.
E' doloroso per il vento, d'inverno,
doversi aggrappare agli alberi spogli:
le creature che hanno perso tanto
faticano
a sostenere coloro
che si avvicinano con amore,
come le prime foglie,
o con disperazione.
Scheletri d'alberi, unico appoggio del vento.
Scheletri della primavera.
In viaggio sono libera
Per pochi momenti.
E' la libertà di chi, alla fine dei binari,
immagina qualcuno.
venerdì 20 dicembre 2013
venerdì 20 settembre 2013
Well.. you think to have a lot to say till the moment you have to talk.
Maybe I should introduce this website, my new blog page, say the reason why I'm starting this.. I don't know anything about this page and surely I don't have any idea of the reason why I'm writing at the moment. End of the introduction.
I want to start with a short story.
My mother was 23 when she met my father. They had done the same high-school and the same university, they both studying medicine. Though, they actually met in "bible-club", that means a club where people discuss about gospel and old testament (at the start of the 60's a club like that was a good way to find a partner, or at least these were the ideas of my mother's friends. Now we have pubs).
At the time, my mother went out with a university mate, a nice guy who wanted to take a master in legal medicine and used to show his work environment the girls he dated. He asked my mother, lots of times, if she was interested to see a city morgue, that explains why my mother preferred to come with her friends to the bible club the night my parents met.
My father liked her from the very first moment, because she reminded him of a Dostoevskij's character, Aglaja from "The Idiot" (a horrible start in my opinion). My mother thought he was a strange guy, too young for her (he was 20). Anyway, she was dated by a man who wanted to show her corpses, so she had no problems to give the "strange guy" her number when he asked her for it.
My father called her once a week, always on thursday, and they talked for a hour. She didn't like him so much, he was too young. She repeated this herself.
After a year of phonecalls, my father told her he had to leave for India. He would stay there two weeks. For two thursdays, while he was abroad, my mother didn't get any call from him. She missed him so much, she had to admit she was in love with him.
When my mother felt insicure, she used to say: "It's better if we make this over now. If we stay together for too long, it will be horrible when we part."
"Why should we part?"
"You'll surely leave me one day."
"I don't want to leave you..."
But she couldn't believe him. She was pessimist. My father is an optimist.
"You know what..." said he. "let's stay with me just one week more. And if you're still convinced that's better to part now, great, I'll leave you."
And when the week was over, he used to try again: "Ok, let's stay together a week more.."
My mother was glad to make this choice, this promise every week. This was for years. Week after week, my parents got married and they're still together, since 1973.
Though, I'm still avoiding bible clubs.
Maybe I should introduce this website, my new blog page, say the reason why I'm starting this.. I don't know anything about this page and surely I don't have any idea of the reason why I'm writing at the moment. End of the introduction.
I want to start with a short story.
My mother was 23 when she met my father. They had done the same high-school and the same university, they both studying medicine. Though, they actually met in "bible-club", that means a club where people discuss about gospel and old testament (at the start of the 60's a club like that was a good way to find a partner, or at least these were the ideas of my mother's friends. Now we have pubs).
At the time, my mother went out with a university mate, a nice guy who wanted to take a master in legal medicine and used to show his work environment the girls he dated. He asked my mother, lots of times, if she was interested to see a city morgue, that explains why my mother preferred to come with her friends to the bible club the night my parents met.
My father liked her from the very first moment, because she reminded him of a Dostoevskij's character, Aglaja from "The Idiot" (a horrible start in my opinion). My mother thought he was a strange guy, too young for her (he was 20). Anyway, she was dated by a man who wanted to show her corpses, so she had no problems to give the "strange guy" her number when he asked her for it.
My father called her once a week, always on thursday, and they talked for a hour. She didn't like him so much, he was too young. She repeated this herself.
After a year of phonecalls, my father told her he had to leave for India. He would stay there two weeks. For two thursdays, while he was abroad, my mother didn't get any call from him. She missed him so much, she had to admit she was in love with him.
When my mother felt insicure, she used to say: "It's better if we make this over now. If we stay together for too long, it will be horrible when we part."
"Why should we part?"
"You'll surely leave me one day."
"I don't want to leave you..."
But she couldn't believe him. She was pessimist. My father is an optimist.
"You know what..." said he. "let's stay with me just one week more. And if you're still convinced that's better to part now, great, I'll leave you."
And when the week was over, he used to try again: "Ok, let's stay together a week more.."
My mother was glad to make this choice, this promise every week. This was for years. Week after week, my parents got married and they're still together, since 1973.
Though, I'm still avoiding bible clubs.
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