aspirin that dissolves in a glass of water reminds me of a beautiful shot film. I have taken two or three in these days, then today I discovered that there were not enough, and that the mercury thermometer is firmly on the side of the red zone.
Sometimes I like to think that fate could affect our lives. Tomorrow morning I took a train and spent the weekend out. I like to think it was good that I have a fever. and remaining at home, after all, was better. as I know, like if I had started, I'd fallen into a manhole to another city, or would have happened one of those things you read in the newspapers. type is one that took a day off that day because the undicisettembre did not want to go to his office in the world trade center.
I like to think so, and if we think it is really a small consolation. 's just a thought optimistic, with a stuffy nose and irritating cough.
I spent the weekend wandering around the streets of downtown. With the sun beating down on Saturday and Sunday with heavy rain, I immersed myself in what is left of corners of history, admired and welcomed by walking, riding roughshod over roads timeless. The Tiber Island, the Jewish ghetto, yet so seemingly genuine, Castel Sant'Angelo. bridges, paving stones, statues, churches.
Today is Monday, and I tip arrival at the gates that mark the entrance to the subway. closed for a strike of which, like many, did not know existed. While I get on a bus crowded enormously, I think that perhaps strikes generally do not make much sense. They are used to create discomfort , stressing the reasons for which workers have decided to fold their arms. Of the two, only one has failed in full: create discomfort. But no one , of \u200b\u200btoo many people clogging the entrances to the bus, he knew the reasons for the strike. did not know the lady by the shrill voice and annoyed, and insisted that from the point where she was, she could not ported yet to make room for others. did not know the guy with the beard, and called on it to stop at too many who tried to get on the bus already full to the limit. I did not know not either, as I looked around hot, as I looked out of the portion of the window I could see, crazy traffic of cars, buses, trucks and motorbikes. It took me twice as long to reach their destination. Many have spent twice, three times the patience. And no, I bet, will go on to inquire why today's subway strike.
While the thick air smelled of sweat and exhaust fumes, which are thought two different cities. may not be the same thing, that paradise of narrow streets and ancient ruins, ancient stones and smiling people who have explored the weekend, and that hell of frenzied people, crammed into tight spaces by blacks palaces of smog, with souls paved the mutual mistrust and discomfort for others.
two different cities that border, and that you look at askance.
There is fresh air, a nice breeze in one step from being invasive. Above the sky is dark and the moon seems very high. The wind moves the clouds, but the moon is always visible, forming around it a rainbow of light. From below are tiny.
Every day that passes, I feel that is very much alive. Agile and lucid thoughts from light. Enough to afford the luxury of taking as true the trifles of this world.
When I walk in a cemetery, the first thing I look at is the photo on the graves of the dead. I look at their face, their expression. Then I look at the date of birth, to death. I do a quick mental calculation, and on the basis of their age, I try to imagine the cause of their death.
Despite anxiety, pain, full of mystery and horror that sends me death, I walk through the cemetery offers a pleasant spiritual tranquility.
The picture on the plaque is the image that we will be more impressed of the missing person. Our dear will always have the same face, when you're going to find.
few days ago I thought of the fate that accompanies an image. bet that the sense of satisfaction a bit 'frivolous, which accompanies each of us for coming when we see particularly well in a photograph, giving way to a completely different feeling, if we knew that this is the image that will end up on our grave .
