From everything seems more beautiful.
It 'too easy to appreciate something from a position that allows us to speak and not be judged, that gives us a chance to see everything but hear anything that gives us incredible horizons and loneliness that everyone is used to search the Saturday afternoon .
I made the opposite choice. I threw in middle of the road in the middle of a meadow full of insects, in a rain forest where the storm the night before had not finished telling his stories.
So you happen to see four elders sitting in front of a bar talking about games in the afternoon and the race of the day, drink the last drops of coffee that most cafes that seems dirty sugar in coffee, the face of diabetes and heart disease that usually affects people of a certain age. One compound, raise the deck, the other deals three cards each to the other four, another blasphemy last leans back in his chair saying nothing, apparently satisfied, but in reality dissatisfaction with those three fucking cards. The game starts, the first game of a long afternoon yet.
A lady gets out his black sedan, tinted windows, rims high, accompanies your child on the left side of a church. The mother greets distracted and go back regardless of some words that come from the mouth of his son. He's already thinking about the parking lot where you will find in ten minutes with her lover, an entrepreneur from a nearby city with a black sedan, tinted windows and rims high. The child's father would go to take two hours later, directly from another parking lot where it was consuming a different story for their family album.
A bald guy, a student of facoltà di ingegneria, arriva veloce spingendo sui pedali con tutta la forza che gli è rimasta dalla sera prima. La sua mente è proiettata già alla sera che lo stava attendendo, alle ragazze che avrebbe abbordato, alle ragazze che gli avrebbero detto “no” e a quelle che avrebbero detto “si”. Non aveva un piano ma aveva voglia. Bastava.
Quattro compagni di classe sono appoggiati con tutto il peso del loro corpo, della loro cultura e della loro età, ad un cancello di una antica casa dell’alta borghesia cittadina. Parlano della giornata scolastica, non hanno voglia di tornare alle loro case, alle loro monotone vite da minorenni di buona famiglia, cercano svago nelle loro parole lievemente anarcopunk, leggermente nihilistic, surely inspired by listening to some good music now passed (outdated).
A young carer from a country of the former Soviet Union tests its new bike bought a few days before at a shopping mall Coop. He never had a bike in his former communist country. E 'awkward, the risk of falling, falling, laughing, gets up and continues the ride that will take her somewhere.
A group of girls dressed in purple and black screams for a tree-lined street, a thousand hormones already thinking about what the evening will give them. The trick from dowdy provincial hookers gives them a few more years, would appear larger in order to buy a pack of Marlboro light to share. A bit like they do with the kids.
That evening some of them fuck for the umpteenth time.
someone else lose virginity hard-won.
A gentleman, a lawyer by day, avid poker player the night, stopped at the traffic light, take out the Sun 24 hours and read the editorial in a well-known "American". Nothing new. Nothing else. The world spins around in the same way from sixty-five. The light turns green, do not realize it, someone from behind honks and blasphemy. He swears, he throws the newspaper on the passenger seat and throws his powerful car in the avenue in front.
Some nomadic families trying to land il lunario vendendo divertimento analogico a bambini maleducati. Chi si diverte a saltare in un castello di gomma colorato, chi si dedica al bigliardino, chi a colpire barattoli di latta con pistole ad aria compressa. Qualche genitore mugugna, qualcuno urla, altri colpiscono i figli con sonori ceffoni.
Una ragazza magrissima corre in un parco per perdere quei chili che non ha, ascolta musica dal suo lettore mp3 bianco, perlato, griffato Dolce&Gabbana. Le sue scarpe percuotono l’asfalto con violenza, cerca di aumentare il ritmo ma dopo pochi metri è troppo stanca. Si ferma e vomita quello che ha mangiato a pranzo.
Una scritta sul muro di un cavalcavia si prende gioco dei professionisti della corsa. “Corri stronzo!”. Qualche sera prima tre regazzi erano arrivati sotto quel cavalcavia armati di bombolette nere. Avevano un concerto poco dopo.
Una coppia di giovani genitori coccola il figlio nel passeggino. Il padre racconta storie improbabili su aeroplani, navi da guerra e paracadutisti. Il figlio non sa ancora parlare. La madre sorride, scherza col padre, i due si dimenticano di essere genitori e deludono gli occhi del figlio che rimane lì ad osservarli.
Un uomo, serio e composto, vestito di nero, cammina lentamente lungo il viale ghiaiato. Pensa al suo fallimento matrimoniale, ai soldi spesi malamente per la (ex)moglie, alle noiose vacanze che lo hanno reso ogni anno più povero, alla sere passate sul divano o in qualche locale di periferia ad ubriacarsi. He stops along the River. Would you take the plunge. There are too many passers-by and decided to postpone until a later date.
A bridge, or rather, what is left of it, tells her story. I guess my age, most courageous and determined to me, face death to sap the courage and hope to return home to other kids. Part of the structure lying in the bed of the river, in memory of those times and those guys.
A handful of people make the group in front of the Town Hall. They speak of their work. They are all dressed in black. It 's a wedding or a funeral? I do not find differences and go on.
Three Native Americans, perhaps Sioux, Cherokee, perhaps, followed by a musical and arpeggio with two flutes of Pan and an ocarina. Another asks for money to the many spectators. Some people are intrigued by the music, some laughs, touched the listener, who thinks their view, lead taken by the vulgar of Europe. Who goes beyond looking for the dress for the evening. A slightly delayed
lady asks for a cigarette a couple of young people. The lights and after a long breath begins to sing "If you chiamassiiiii. In his left hand has three yellow flowers. Think of her husband who died thirty years before.
A boy is sitting at the bus stop. It touches all the time sunglasses, pulls out his phone and is reflected in the black screen. Do you think it is beautiful but not too intelligent but not too much, sensual but not too much. Do not think bad things are at the bottom, but maybe. He decides to go to the barber. He rises. The station is lost behind his every footstep. A bus
I overtake on the left, is full of people and bags, words and thoughts. At that moment, everything seems to go in slow motion, slow motion along a few seconds which makes my rides are slow and heavy. The tram goes away so easily, look at the clock and the watch runs normal whiskers. Mark seconds. One, two, three. Count to three hundred and I'm here. On this sheet.
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