Tonight, tonight, I want to write. So here these lines, stone thrown into the water calm for some time. Lines long and weary as the silence that preceded them. And as the heat.
E 'begins with the heat, or better, with the rain if it is taken away. Hours
endless and useless to get up again, the water gave me a damn good reason not to go out, to do nothing, not thinking.
Then, much later, the smell of fog that is looking for the strength to get off the ground and the knob of the heating of the machine after several months decided to move right.
In between, the revelation . Sitting on a wooden bench, bent back, I look at my feet. Those jeans not put them in a while '. The fringed hem draw a spider web on brown shoes. A spider web that I know too well, that was born and grew up with me. A year ago, these days, those jeans were already being andarmi wider. Having to go up to the last hole of the belt. Then she is not even enough pants and began to sink and rub with the nonchalance of a boy alone against a cold, muddy ground more than that until then I was used, at least in the autumn. I feel your eyes, as if they were now, as many times as you quell'orlo is wet and dirty sand, when water from a puddle ignored climbed with treacherous commitment to mid-calf, when a piece of tissue still partly attached and already completely frozen me from crossing your legs on a train and warm quiet, almost always alone. And I remember the day as now 'I decided, now I cut', the touch of blue plastic scissors with my fingers, the child emotion of the moment, the fear of knowing that you will never go back. And in the end that's okay ...
And while I think of the Netherlands with my jeans that are no longer cursed me so damn large, it seems that the world wants me here with him, he calls me I charge, it gives me something to do. And in the end that's okay ...
After 6 months I changed my cd in the car. Autumn and beautiful that I almost moved.
