The city opened before his eyes without notice. The heat of the asphalt mix the vertical edges of the buildings, casting reflections on the river diagonally. The medieval walls surrounding the town in a series of lace and small towers.
Mantua is offered to the patient looks distracted people. Many of the crossing as it crosses the aisle of a supermarket, concentrated on the flyer of the event.
parked just after the bridge, turn right along a narrow road without curves. Light leaned my shadow on the cobblestones, drawing a hologram fleeting. The map of the city soon proved to be useless, all the streets flowed mysteriously in one place with no name or reference. I spent three times before the same bar, weaving many diagonals of the square. The heat rising from the ankles down arms, coloring the face of anger and frustration.
got to the church that the sun was going down behind the buildings. The pavement was designed to square, the bar tables occupied part of the entrance, with insolence and indolence. The facade, fresh color, hiding inside an abandoned and the limits of decadence. Single aisle leading to the old altar, no hanging covered the walls. At the foot of what had once been the pulpit, dust and debris were piled. Instead of benches were blue plastic chairs, worn smooth in the session. I was alone inside. I closed my eyes and imagined the baroque splendor of the pipe organ, the white dress of a bride emotions, genuine cry of a newborn to the baptismal font.
He came in shortly after, followed by a small group of colleagues and friends. He wore a black dress, to walk a couple of sneakers. I felt the tension eat the breaths, his eyes fixed on the stage. He looked at me and immediately turned my head away, unable to support his dark eyes fixed on me. Including only then that the insistence his eyes hid the need to give a name to my face. He spoke well, he was smiling at every stop of his interviewer. The tinkling of bracelets around his wrist accompanied the tale of his travels, like a timid music. He defended his troubled mind, shifting the focus away on anecdotes. There was more in his voice, the search for peace ahead. He smiled a smile that drew open deep wrinkles at the corners of the mouth.
Being a few feet from him made me nervous.
The man sitting next to me was clear and damaged fingers, around the nails he drew away layers of skin until it bled. Just beyond were two women passionate and serene.
His voice stirred in me the desire to be alone with him, I would have wanted his words to calm the restless motions of my soul. It did not happen, of course. I dreamed of our meeting the night before, and had not been a good dream. The reality was very different.
got off the stage with an athletic leap. He jumped off the platform with ease, was in a hurry to go out. He turned to me, I looked for a moment that suspended time in the church. I turned on the other side, her back to him. That was not the time, not how. I wanted a minute to myself. I joined him later, just in time for me to surround by a dozen admirers impatient and overheated. I introduced myself to him, and it was useless. He already knew who I was, I do not know how or why, but I had recognized.
was a moment and smiled.
He shook my hand in his, taking a long and solid. His face became severe.
he spoke, of course. I just nodded without replying. His words sank in the muscles of the back, slipping under the skin. I stood motionless, listening to the same speech that I had a dream the night before. The people around me eavesdropping. I felt ridiculed by their looks of pity.
not looked into his eyes, I remember just now. I concentrated on the thin lips. I could describe in detail how insignificant, its mouth. It always happens to fix lips, teeth, chin in my party, and then lose what really counts: the eyes. I greeted him and went quickly, well straight away, head held high. I did not turn, and I abandoned myself to tears of defeat. I had gone over the imaginary wall that he had erected between us. I turned the corner and I appeared before without permission. It was not arrogance, my. I need this damn concrete, the need to put faces to voices. I was ill-balanced thoughts, guided by the desire to meet him. He was my special viewer, the one sitting in the middle of the audience, bored and impatient. I wanted to win as you conquer the smile of a child. I had the malice of arriving, nor the coldness of the calculation. In my heart I had the strength to those who believed in me, embracing the objectivity of Catia, the dream kind of Elisa, the wisdom of saving Ilene, her hands thick Emanuele.
He could not know.
While scratched the wall of my confused mind, he punished my face still.
stupid and reckless I screwed up my dream, leaving for him to throw it land. I cried on my defeat more.
I did not want a yes from him, just as now. I wanted a moment of truth, a glimpse of sunshine in a dark thread of telefono.Volevo him, his eyes on mine, his honesty. I did not care anything about his can not.
not happened, not happened.
the weeks went by, the resentful. He seemed happy, had it not with me anymore.
Something had changed.
If you met him yet, of course, looked into his eyes.
Barbara Greggio
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