As the title suggests, today I let myself give up the flow of my thoughts, which went from more serious things, other completely useless, as my life XD. Get carried away by the river I flew between the memories and nostalgia. You say: "Embeh? C What's New? And when you do not ever happen?"
O'ei, you're right. E ' true. I'm a guy who when it comes to open a photo album, listen to old songs or watching 's childhood or the past in general, is the first to corrugate his brow, curl your mouth with eyes full of pain. And do disgust me to see anyone take on that expression.
fact is that today is one of those days where to perform this gesture, complete with a handkerchief on his head, looking out a window glass on which glide slowly drops of rain rhythmic and silent, the All while the subscribed seeks the horizon with clasped hands and hunched, as a sign of trouble XD.
Today I have not watched any movie that I used to watch years and years ago, I looked at old photos or received strange phone calls from guys or tizie not felt for centuries.
except that at lunch, even without knowing why, we ended up talking about Bagnaia and Duranti. U in time I felt carried away, for life, in the past, or at least in a parallel world where past events are played to perfection.
E 'last name was enough to take me to another existence, to resent in the fragile body of another federation, to feel the smells, the overwhelming emotions and memories rooted like oaks in me.
E 'enough for the name of a place and a last name she wanted to be there again, not now, which would be quite feasible, but wanting to be there, in those places with that small body of people fa.Con many years many years ago . With the sky still bright and clear, with the heat of summer ', with my laughter as I rose up forces me back to earth because the effort of the rice I had taken the energy, with that fear of being too small to them, that desire to want to compete with that 'ambition to demonstrate that, even though I had less than 4 years, I too was important, but I did laugh, I was also crucial, although, perhaps, yield all, I was little.
I miss that girl to death with brown eyes and blond boy who was in love.
Today I am so sad and painful nostalgia, because they are sad and nostalgic, and this is my strength and my weakness is what makes me alive a few times, and what is holding me back and I am as ballast at other times.
Sometimes the memories will live in a negative way because their image in my mind is so clear and sharp that I have the impression that they are very recent, so close that they appear to have just turned the corner. Memories that seem so vivid Facciani part of a past that is not so much about the past. But then I go back to me and I realize that there are people who do not see for years and others that will never see again.
Maybe those places I would have left anyway, perhaps in a few more years I would not have shared with the usual "people." Moving forward in time I would have certainly 'more left, at least, behind because they were belonging to the drawer of childhood and adolescence. But the gap would have been more gradual and less violent. I should certainly not break away from the heart of a place so important to me, how you do it with a patch from the skin. I learned over time to have a sweet and nostalgic memory, other than that I have left bitter and gangrenous.
Maybe all my memories are gangrene, because they are precisely the type of person who looks out the window, sighing and thinking about the future that the fatal 'wait (even if the carefree and joyful moments I think I sapermeli keep close and cuddle them when they live very well ... and when I recognize them XD XD) . But I think most of the memories of others abbian the same feature. Because when you find yourself sometimes in the path of a road you have embarked on now for some time, inevitably think about all the good things we have left on the streets past, reminding and obscuring the good things you have now and what rotten c was then.
Anyway this reminiscence has a good reason to be, gangrenous.
why from one day to 'the other place where you have spent 5 months a year, if not more of your life, the place where your you begin to form early memories and logic, the place where you are the youngest and the most protected place where you learned to swim (or rather, floating) becomes insignificant and far, it seems more the refuge of the magical summer of Christmas and Easter. From one day to another you have been told to hate those houses on the hill, 200 meters from the sea, those houses that previously seemed bright and tenitrici various lives that intersected with each other for a few months. Those houses that now appear cold and gravel yard in which no child is not there to play.
A piazziale where I learned to get into fights and become aggressive (?? ... You can also outsource your doubts about this statement!) Because no one spared nothing, taking advantage of the fact that her brother signed the same cooing with delight, the Duranti, appunto.Lo for the same square where the nights of all summers spent seven boys meet and play together, and when they arrived relatives or tenants with boys below the number increased dramatically.
A place that has seen thousands of times the blood of children die scraped knee or more bony chubby. A place where you did the day the war with the superliquidator (and I had a rather embarrassing Wimp water, while my brother they had bought the most powerful gun in two containers: _:) and the evening was the choice between eating witch color or other games that required the involvement of a lot of small children wild.
Then at the end was always the most quoted hide or witch eats color, where I was promptly placed in the middle of the pitch, motionless and wearing an infinite amount of colored objects, to take off away "the slower and crybaby."
Tired of the denomination received a sunny late summer day taken a very large rock and threw it on the front of Julio. After having put some point, no one called me more crybaby. They will still be the slowest of the group.
summers were the same which I promptly took the cooked fearful for Philip! The child of two years older than me, blond and pale green eyes with a username.
Stay Bagnaia meant to be insightful so much excitement and they can no longer remember.
L 'smell of coconut balm that only we bagnaia , The same package, the same brand year after year, always the same stylized palm with three green leaves on the cross. The shower with the drain slowly fallen apart, the usual quarrels caused by a heater too small, from hot water that ended on the 2nd that was having a shower and we were 4! The pleasure of your hair dry in the sun was setting in front of a bay with sailboats and punched tub. The do not go out on Saturday night because there was no borders and games for the world we would have lost.
I'll never forget the freedom to be able to Elba. The fall in the country in slippers and shirt, with only his underwear under the suit, without being ashamed, because everyone was dressed so ...
The freedom to run through the fields behind the apartment blocks Sant Anna, Matthew and us chasing pretending to be a velociraptor. And the huge disappointment from one day to another when they had cut through the feet of those fields of weed.
The chase with the mattress and Matthew, yet there pretending to be chasing the shark. Also three of us. Inseparable. Indeed, two of them inseparable. While I would just do the outline. Dorothy and Matthew. They invented the games, they were bigger, they joked, they were told, the others followed, the others listened, others watched them leave because they wanted to isolate themselves because they wanted to be alone. While only I had the privilege to be always with them. I admire them, I was bored because it was difficult to introduce me wrapped in those speeches from "big kids" but I was proud to participate in those games, without the other, those games where we were only three of us, all the others out, all others could not share that beautiful magic that there was among us.
The growing together has brought us together amazingly, everyone was the glue of the other two. Only we could understand our jokes, we were only characters in our stories, our exaggerated soap opera.
were our summers where the world revolved around us, where the sea was ours, where even if you do not turned in with the other group, there was us. There were other. I listened, laughed, and every so often attracted attention.
was our world. Untouchable. Until someone broke it and was broken to pieces.
