High School Cubefield

La penna ancora tra le dita, deposito in magazzini di carta pensieri e emozioni, in modo più o meno ordinato. Mi piace questo stile di vita. No, non dico il dormire all'addiaccio, no. Parlo dello spirito di ricerca. Parlo del viaggiare sempre con un taccuino e una bic nella tasca pronto a prendere appunti. Schizzi. Parlo di spremere i giorni come limoni ogni sera, con cura e, scansati i semi, versarne un bicchiere negli inchiostri di china, per dare sapore alle parole.

Ieri, appena left the bar where I come in the morning to write about me, I come to the center of St. Vincent Farnese. Breakfast, shower and change of linen. Bianca. While eating cake and mandarin, dodging on the pan brown orange peels, I know Gary. Palermo. A gentle giant. It is at least one meter high and one hundred ninety pounds, his hair and beard shaved every day. Scented with rose water and aftershave. Her face seems carved in marble sea, expressionless, does not let any emotion, his eyes half closed, his brow furrowed and constant attention. Under his eyelids and irises turn green-brown range, right, left, by controlling the room. It's his turn to shower. He rises. He opens his eyes, his mouth a moment bends downward. Comes together, with narrow eyes went to the entrance, closed the door and calmly called the operator. A low voice, but audible to all present, he tells her that no one leaves the center until it jumps out of his black umbrella. Silence. The tension starts to rise, when suddenly a girl with a large mouth and teeth yellowed begins to shake his lips rehearse tempering red like a frog. Ride, the umbrella is right there on the chair where he sat until the moment before. Ah! Ah ha! Ah ha! Well. Gary picks it up and row straight into the shower.

the evening I meet him again at the station, talk, and expects to arrive together with their volunteers, nostri, panini. Gaetano ha quarantadue anni. É un uomo preciso, è un uomo d'onore. Ci tiene a precisarlo e me lo ripete più volte. É arrivato a Roma esule dalla cara Sicilia tre anni fa. Come non lo so. Mentre abbassa la testa alzando lo sguardo su di me, gira in aria l'indice della mano destra e scandendo le sillabe mi dice che non ha mai poggiato la testa su un cartone, e che non può farlo. Se lo vedesse un conoscente, uno di Palermo, il mondo è piccolo. Se si venisse a sapere in Sicilia che lui a Roma fa questa vita… Dorme a Orte, nella sala d'attesa dei treni. Oppure a Fiumicino all'Aeroporto. Là si sta al caldo, il posto è tranquillo e non ci sono problemi, può restare tutta la notte e nessuno lo caccia per road. And if anyone sees him can always tell who has missed the train that night, cursing the misfortune of the case. Does not bring bags with them, no bags or bags. Better not to arouse suspicion. So he changed his clothes, throws them. A shower every day, every change of a basket. With him is only the clothes he wore and the reporting of loss of his identity card. It also asks whether he has lost his past with that document. "I'm just " says resting his eyes along the horizon of the tracks, between the sweet voice and the gruff, broken by a cry of anger and restrained with difficulty. Long-term. The parents are dead, have problems at home with his brother, a policeman. He spent five years in prison, he asks me if I know what life is tyrannical. Then a hint of a smile, as if to apologize for the confidence, he begins to sing in falsetto Neapolitan songs renowned South. He smiles. In the summer goes on the sea, is the season to Vaianica Tor. Works at night as a guard in the parking lot of a restaurant on the beach. Earn well, fifty sixty euro a night. But then he also has his flaws, he explains. He drinks, smokes and especially coca blowjob. Only in summer, when he has money and can afford it. Then back to the winter with its cold not under thick gray. It also sells the smoke in the summer by the sea. But sell it with respect. Stresses. He gives the customer a barrel each time. For he who sells it to him in the hope that him respect him as. So if you buy one hundred € for example smoke give as a gift a bit more so. He cuts it in so many logs and gives one to every customer. He knows how to deal with the customer, in the hope that customers and meet him.

[From "Rome homeless , December 28, 2004] Read

" Rome city seen from behind "