Anche quella mattina si svegliò presto, tents not doing their duty and the sun was too bright to stay behind the scenes. He opened the door and heard on whether the taste and slightly rough rusty dawn of September, he thought to himself a nice feel. He had never been so good, not feeling so fit since the national team won the world or from when he joined with a strawberry chupa chupa a graduation examination. Four years, four years are bad ass, "he said smugly. He slammed his hands against the hips, hamstrings and then finally against the chest, fell to the ground and began repeating the only thing in his life. One, two, three ... up to twenty-five. He turned around, the cars were blocking un male cane ma non badò al dolore. Uno, due, tre.. fino ad arrivare a cento. Anche per quella mattina le ripetizioni erano finite.
Ritornò nella vettura, aprì il cassetto sotto il sedile e tirò fuori una bottiglia d'acqua. Bevve un sorso e lasciò il resto per l'igiene personale, si tolse la maglietta e uscì di nuovo dotato di spazzolino e asciugamano. Si guardò intorno, neanche l'ombra di un essere umano questa mattina, pensò. Era domenica. Sputò il refuso per terra, lontano dalla sua casa, e rientrò. Si vestì velocemente, non c'era un momento da perdere, quella giornata andava vissuta, whole, full, was loved and hated, used and stored. It was a day like any other. All other.
closed the door, put his keys in his pocket, the key to Jack gave his pants a form unnatural that he was deeply on his cock. Ugly bastard of a keychain, ugly son of a bitch. He walked to the south with a backpack and water bottle that you already know. Behind him the written Conad pulled away, becoming smaller and indecisive, the contours were merged with the light and the dawn of day. Still had not decided to raise the curtain this morning. She crossed a few cars, some young man who had drunk the night before their own lives and also quella del suo amico e anche quella dell'amico dell'amico. O forse no. Forse erano solo viaggiatori come lui, viaggiatori atipici, quelli che vedono l'alba per forza e non per scelta, quelli che per scelta non riuscirebbero neanche a lavarsi il culo. Ripensò alle scelte, quelle che non aveva mai fatto e, per forza di cosa, pensò alla sua condizione attuale. Abitava in un parcheggio dentro alla sua utilitaria sudcoreana grigia. Non aveva scelto quella vita, semplicemente aveva scelto di rimanere in eterno nel limbo dell'indecisione. Ho parcheggiato la mia esistenza di fronte ad un magazzino della Conad e non ho la minima intenzione di fare retromarcia e andarmene, neanche di tirare dritto in verità. In fondo la mia vita è bella. Si, bella. Gli amici come to see me in the evening, we sit in front of the headlights on and, without looking at him, talking. No shame, the shame is gone, poof .. and we are in the open air in summer, and when it's cold, we go inside, as if the car was a stable, the ox and the donkey. The windows fog up, the fingers begin to draw letters and shapes, and designs that look to understand what goes through people's heads. I discovered many things by studying those drawings, hieroglyphics modern birds as our times. I also discovered a lot of things about myself to tell the truth. But do not you interests you, interests you do not nothing to you. Not even me, even I do not care anything. I just want to pass this fucking life How do we move from a supermarket or from a parking lot on Friday evening, as you go on Sunday afternoon at home watching the matches of the Premier or the summer in the city to work in a ski shop, as it passes over the guilt or the promises, as it passes over the intent and poverty, as it passes over the hypocrisy and the priest's homily. So, I just go, I want to leave the smallest footprint on this world because it does not seem right to ruin, much like the pictures on the windows of the car.
continued to walk for hours ...
