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Riconciliazioni



Passeggio da sola per il lungomare dove sfilano i carri. E' una domenica di sole, con le nuvole grigie sul punto di piovere that pile up on the horizon and are concerned about the organizers of the carnival and the owners of the banquet of roast pig and sweets. I decide to walk alone and to see a little 'the waterfront of my city, to savor the scents, vivisection spaces.
Finally today there seems to be a bit 'of warmth in the air, a mild wind that warms my bitterness and melts my fears, so identical to themselves and properties to look for ice.
walk lightly, move the eyes all around, petrified and masked children who immortalized the attack with blows of confetti in a war involving everyone, young and old. On the beach a "King Carnival" is waiting for paper mache to be burned at the stake and evaporate into the air, giving the scent of iodine and salt than the typical grain of burning on the last Sunday of Carnival. Then think of how sacred we children waited for us this solemn farewell ceremony Sunday in the mask and how sad they placed the clothes in cupboards cleverly constructed by motherly hands. I think back to the waiting party, the choice of the suit, his afternoons at the sewing machine and the help of the loving aunt who I still see far immortalized in its beauty. Relive our frantic racing, our theater in reciting the deeds of our masks, the screams of mothers spent to call to quiet, to make a point to a day that we would never end.
I realize that this wandering aimlessly today is nothing more than the celebration of my reunion with the city for years in my time so alien and so far from my desires, the recovery of confidence after a long absence. This focus my eyes on girls in masks and their mothers is to seek a temporary reconciliation between the edges of my soul, so torn apart after his death. And finally, remember to smile, I keep quiet for a moment the noisy conflicts that agitated me, carefully honing the sharp edges of my being, always in perpetual battle with himself. Now, at home, with the silence that congeals, I welcome this Sunday, as simple as it is intense, which seems to me a little 'back to myself.