Catania March 17, 2010 best friend, who always had a voice to sing a song with me on the windowsill of my house in Enna, while the cold of that city remained outside sometimes and other times it took all of us except our reckless and strident vocal cords.
Sleep: the strange thing that insinuates itself between the head and the pillow and take all the muscles and gives stasis. That thing that annihilates and numbs the senses. The one thing that gives dreams. The thing that wears out with the nightmares. The one thing that seems ambivalent to kill you, still as you leave, and instead regenerates you and someone even admits that brings some kind of advice.
years have been cold.
years that you entered in cold blood, and not feel it.
And so you could sit on a ledge with a best friend to sing out loud that there's a little black spot on the sun today and that is the same little black spot that was the day before.
And there were a lot of spots that we thought were black and some were not even spots and did not know.
And then there were some spots that were huge, which would become chasms and would be taken only consideration exchanged smiles and tears. And I did not conducted if not before that moment when the phone rang and it was late, I do not know how, but there was a strange dark outside even slipping in and as a hard layer of concrete covered everything. And I remember a voice, can not remember who he was, to say "no more" and all that has happened since that moment when I got home el'abbracciai of best friends in the middle of the living I do not remember. Almost as if each movement was insignificant and tended to embrace as we had come to embrace, what is important and that the arms were able to do their duty.
There were over toast with nutella kg that stains the fingers and the pages of books on which they studied. Alanis And there was always singing in the background, singing too, that we could have another listen to every now and our musical culture there would have been grateful but, of course, the soundtrack of the years of cold affected by it.
There were people who we put in our lives to guard the mood and thought that we would pull out in an instant, if only we wanted to. And those had besieged the mind, heart and body as the troops are at war with the city. And the moment when we realized that we had no power over them was the time of the collapse of the feeling of omnipotence collapse and that he had made small and incapable.
There was a hundred and six who had traveled the roads of Sicily with the presumption of an SUV dented es'era several times and always seemed to have the strength to rise from its ashes.
One hundred and six in the evening he loved to do a known route, it seemed that he did it alone and I and best friend to make her walk we just had to sing. One hundred and do not take it if my voice out of tune even covered one of best friends, of course, would have preferred to sing only best friend.
There was a song we sang often and, if we knew that the title was "swimming in the air", called the "skin" only because in the first stanza read, "Skin, is your own that I'm missing" . And there was always someone who's skin was missing.
There are certain days that you take a po'così. Wrong with you.
and would like to virtues of melancholy and can not do it.
I've never understood why a day like many open your eyes, Ground the wrong foot (probably right) and the day is a bad day.
It is not that you're pissed.
No. You're "only" melancholy.
So, no reason. Almost want to ask to speak with Lady Melancholy and the reason for his infamous trip, which one is armed with black paint and brush and begins to paint on your mood, it was not even the most brilliant painters, and not only does not ask the allowed to enter, but it also makes it easy.
"Sorry Melancholy Who told you that you could come in? "
" Pardon Melancholy carpetta why have you brought the memories of the years of cold? Can not you see that it's sunny out? That spring is coming? "
have passed so many springs And one in which I and best friend we sat for the first time talking on the stairs of the University.
And on those stairs, we then sitting on countless occasions, with notebooks in hand to repeat the matter that "the exam is tomorrow and I do not know anything."
We sat with a coffee in hand to split because "I do not have enough coins for the machine and shared a cup of coffee helps like nothing else to share a story by itself.
We sat with nothing and with nothing to say, so that everything there was to say he was in a melancholy silence. And we did that melancholy virtue.
Because that he had not divided.
Why learning to share the friendship we had learned.
We learned alone in feeling that you can be together.
Herman Hesse wrote that " the evil side of melancholy is not only to sicken its victims, but also to make them short-sighted and presumptuous, indeed almost superb. It is believed to be like Atlas, which alone must stand on their shoulders all the pain and the enigmas of the world, as if a thousand others will not suffer the same pain and do not wander in that labyrinth. "
There are certain days that you take a po'così you would need Best Friend, Scale University Col Brown and Glass Coffee Atlas not to feel so melancholy would think twice before making the invasion of the house armed with brushes, paint and carpetta memories. What a Lady Melancholy not like to be crushed in a silence, she is evil, as we described it Hesse, and perish in the embrace of its share does not want to know.
"We need reflection, we need a really good memory. Feel free to call me a little more Often,
sing Alanis, now. crib And I can think of best friend.
And I know that if we still have that window sill, of course, the sing along.
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