Later switches from the first track Andrew. Andreja is Polish. Krakow east. Not more than thirty-five years his. Blond, straight hair. The swollen face. Shots of red and black, scratches, scabs and bruises. suit. For several days he had started working as a valet, abusive, but still honest. the beautiful women never did pay, points out, reminded me of my wife, in their a tribute. Yesterday morning, however, the injury and insult. At 10:00, in broad daylight in the street, a group of Romanians is presented to collect the bill. That car has always been under their management and had already warned once the parking lots to do elsewhere. So they came to take justice into their own with the single law that applies to road force. A group of eight was thrown to him and he had no time even to raise his voice, he found himself on the ground to count the kicks and spitting blood on the asphalt. Now he has bought a knife along a span. Swears he learned his lesson and that next time will not stand by and watch, nor will scruple to strike.
Suddenly the anger fades from his face swollen like a dark cloud from heaven, and gives way to a tear. Andrej put the Walkman headphones and closed my eyes sings rocking springs on her legs, moves on a love song. She smiles at me, then I passed one of the two headsets. Linked by a wire and a note, I recognize Ghost, the soundtrack of the film. I too close my eyes for a moment, when I open them I see Andrew, fixed a train across the track, took his lower lip trembling, down the streams of hot tears from his eyes. Without looking at anyone tells us that when two and a half years ago his wife died he has not done more than love. Still wants her. He just wants you, but you can not make love with a woman already dead, with a woman who exists only in memories and hearts, without a body to touch it and cover it with kisses.
Andrey and the son of a Polish woman and a English Embassy official in Poland, who abandoned her shortly after her birth. Andrej was placed in Poland, had a happy life. So he says as he shows me a photo album which brings with it strict. He owned a restaurant, and lived in an apartment in Krakow with his wife and daughter. Pass me the photos. His wife was a beautiful woman, eyes a little 'tight, green, thin facial features, brown. And then the little girl, four years, a smile like portrait. That day, it's been now two and a half years, Andrey was going to Bonn, Germany, for work. He was driving when he received the phone call. Her mother told her of an incident, her voice broke into tears and sobs among the shards of said yes, his wife and daughter ... we had not done.
was a stab in the lungs, bleeding pain. Everything was lost. What was left? Hang up the phone without even tossed out the window and the blurred vision from a stream of tears, made a U-turn to return to Krakow. The first month was an ordeal. Not a word, he spent his days alone, he had become irritable and had stopped going to work. At the end of everything and sent all to hell, he escaped in Italy, perhaps to seek the protection of its national Wojtila, head of the religion in which Audrey continues to believe that perhaps the only thing that has remained ever since. Tears and knives.
[From "Rome homeless , December 28, 2004] Read
" Rome city seen from behind "
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