Third and his hustle, nice return. He had to come visit and bring the story personally, but could not because "it is a short little story that goes wrong because it does not end."
Perhaps it will never end and who knows what it is. Or maybe we do not we ever see the end. This is
The Rigattiere , good reading.
We turn the corner drugstore and here we are at the front door of the house, decorated with beautiful wooden door inlaid arabesques, Aldo turns around and says, "My loft is third floor. " Well, I'd call it more than loft apartment, or better yet a garage, warehouse, perhaps it is a huge room without walls that m'annuncia as his home. Invites me to come and lay his jacket over his chair, pointing to a pile about two feet tall jackets and coats. Looking at the house I realize that is really a warehouse full of various odds and ends, there's even an old sidecar WWII "nice eh? What I took almost thirty years ago by a group of gypsies who passed by here and think ... when I took walking again! Now I use it as sopramobile. "
I do not care more than that heirloom and I go to the table near the kitchen stove where Aldo is making coffee. From a belief seize a pot of ceramic ones with the closure of metal, then another door, takes out the pot and to my amazement I see that is the Neapolitan model, you know that once you turn that ' water boils. I take out the tobacco and beginning to make me a cigarette to break the ice and start talking about me, what I do for a living, what I study, my interests. He listens as she prepares coffee and ends just turns around, sits down and tells me that you can not smoke.
Poso by a smile and a cigarette in silence, wondering if he can make an exception to the rule; Aldo seems to understand me and my head tells me "no," I stopped smoking fifteen years ago, you think I'll smoke here? It is fifteen, but it is not as hard as most people think. One day you get bored and quit smoking, some people do not get bored and continues. "He started talking about how he was in power in the seventies, he was young and ferment of those years can never be forgotten" were beautiful, young and felt we could really change something. In hindsight I can say that we were afraid at the best time, but then people closed their eyes, others have been convinced or have been teased by the union and some have used the secret services. I diventatati many leaders, many are dead, then that is the same thing, me and my wife went to Latin America to make us a vacation. "He says of the difficulties of that journey: can not afford a plane ticket are parties in ship, he also worked as a waiter on board to pay a portion of the ticket. Arriving across the world have started working inch "as you say when you hitchhike? We came to Cape Horn with the steps. Without money we had fun, we met many nice people, of that village, that the margins of the major roads. Beautiful villages and good food, lots of rain and the immense skies, skies enormous t'inghiottono, those dense clouds, a sheep, ragged clouds like cotton on the head to make you be a stiff neck. It stretches of nothing, as far as the eye reaches there is nothing for two days we were alone on a road did not pass a car, not a truck that is with us a little further. When we came back in Italy the situation was completely changed. It was the eighties, we realized he had traveled for almost ten years and did not recognize any of our town, everything was different, we looked like strangers in the house. The friends had changed, now had a family and instead of jeans had pants and jackets. Not so much for clothes that have no value in itself, but what about the way they thinking. I remembered them rebels and not civilians, but now they were trapped in their concepts and preconceptions, forget everything you were giving way to things like the head office, the machine wider because you have a baby on Sunday at the stage where you can be yourself. "
This man of nearly sixty years tells me about the past, more than twenty years ago, and I review the current. And while I tell Aldo makes a bitter smile, "once there, after America, I had to adapt too. I did not know how though, there were difficult times and did not want to end up inside an office, I still had the smell of those skies in the nose and end up inside four walls aseptic was not my aspiration. My girlfriend, she like all women, has made few efforts to readjust and eventually after a series of quarrels and tears we parted. Now I know that he is happy and he had three children with her husband. Just think ... when we were together he hated the wedding! Never change idea is not always consistent, often change is not always a sign of adaptability. It takes a measure, and one day I met a Croatian who was a junk dealer. "
