I wake up early in the afternoon; I did the night shift. The alarm clock on the bedside table the marks of 14.30 on Aug. 6. Like all those times when I feel sleep long in the mouth a taste of dead rat, and head for a pulsating headache on its way.
The air is still, in this sunny August afternoon, from the only window of my studio apartment I see the wall of the building across the street, a faux marble that was once white but now looks clean only when the sun more directly over the beats. The old stereo
transmits only surge, the wave must have missed while I slept.
I take a shower, in the vain hope of dispelling some 'stunning me pervasive, and miraculously this time the gimmick works. When I leave the bathroom full of steam I'm awake, and I decided to take a walk under the blazing sun.
In the stairwell gasping for air, the heat and humidity, which mixes with the smell of urine in the woman's son on the second floor, it seems that when playing ball in the yard never fails to reach his house to do the needs. Fortunately
down the steps as the heat that builds up to the upper floors clears slowly, until you reach a semblance of coolness.
The feeling lasts until I open the door to the street at that moment all the 37 degrees of the outside assail me roaring. I almost change my mind, but the desire is to walk a lot. At worst I'll just make the shower on the back. And then tomorrow I fly to New York for four months and most will not see my city, I like that in the end, despite the traffic and pollution.
Four months in the Big Apple for a training course organized by the parent company where I work. I do not want to go, although it appears I officially "voluntary." You know how it works in these cases? They call you from the office staff and say, "We are looking for ten volunteers for an internship in New York, she would be available?" No taxation, no obligation, but between the lines, perhaps in the tone in which you ask the question, you know that if you do not agree you're doing a scorched earth around you, and in this period of crisis is certainly not constructive.
I go out into the street and sunny desert, heading towards the park where maybe I'll find some 'coolness under a tree.
Everything seems unreal in the shop windows with colorful signs "closed for vacation," the lights that continue undeterred their work, regardless of the fact that there is no driver to follow their commands. Force of habit compels me to wait for the green to cross the intersection, and when I do I realize that I could lie down in the middle of the road without any danger.
The feeling of alienation increases: even in August it is difficult for such a long time does not pass even a car.
beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable: I'm out for ten minutes, and only now I realize that I have not seen anyone, I did not hear any sound. It seems an episode of "The Twilight Zone."
While a sense of uneasiness comes over me, I hasten to the park: there is always someone who looks a bit 'of refreshment, at any time of day.
turned the corner and finally I see the gate of the park, which is closed at night to prevent access to couples or high on drugs or a drug addict when he killed a couple secluded. Even
park you hear a sound, not a bird, not a breath of wind, not a chatter of children playing.
last the oppressive silence is broken by a sound: the cooing of pigeons, and at that time again I hear the noise of the stream. But the first really does not even feel that? I'm not so sure. Suddenly the world seems to noisy again, I also hear a jackhammer in the distance engaged in his work of destruction.
On the bench near the bridge is sitting a little old lady who is feeding the pigeons, it seems that he is also talking with them, but getting close I realize that as she is singing an old song to himself. No, it is an old song: is singing "I wish I had the beak," Povia! It strange to hear someone sing a song so old so new!
suddenly gets a strong wind that makes the birds fly away and take away the hat lady. The superhero in me does not waste time as he rushes to the rescue: I run after the hat, flowers, flying like a kite. Here it is, I'm going to take a leap ... and ... Ciaffa! I find myself with hat in hand and feet in the stream! Looking for air I had not realized that I was away so much from the bench!
With sodden shoes I headed to the bench, taking my trophy, and the old woman gives me a sly look as I approach her.
When I offer my hat she laughs, a contagious laugh that eventually also involves me.
"Thank you young man, young man! Nearly forty years I never thought to hear no one calling me that!
"Just imagine, Madam," I reply politely, and I'm about to leave when she starts talking.
"She does not think he did something special? Sure, it's just a hat, but we live in a world where everyone mind their own business, and few would have helped an old lady in distress. Come, sit a moment with me. Maybe you can take off your shoes and leave them in the sun on that rock, so they dry and does not take a damn "
It seems to me to be with my mother! This caring lady treats me like I was a kid! However, I follow his advice, and I sit next to her.
I'm not a very sociable person, indeed, I am quite defined "bear", but with this old woman feel at ease, and begin to chat about this and that. As in all the speeches you make to someone you do not know that we begin to talk about the weather, the hot weather, the cold that made up just over a month ago, the fact that there are between seasons. The story also of my work and my upcoming trip. Hearing about the plane smiling lady goes, "Do not be afraid of knowing so high? I do not trust these things. As someone said, if man were made to fly would be born with wings! "
" Madam, "I replied," For years now you fly, and it's still safer to travel by plane or by car "
" Sure , the plane is safer, but not the flight tomorrow! Do not start, indications of a day! "
The voice catches me by surprise. Suddenly I realize that the old does not seem to have all the wheels in place. One person in the park and I have to be the descendant of Nostradamus tune?
A sense of uneasiness comes over me: I suddenly realize I've told the old everything about me, and she stopped talking once the heading "weather", and resumed only under the heading "impending disaster".
I look at the stone where I left my shoes, which are now dry, and threw out an excuse to get away from the park.
The old seems a bit 'serene and greets me with his hand, saying "I'm glad you decided to follow my advice."
When I get home I recall the strange affair, and I almost laugh. But where is this output? Yet there was something familiar!
Arrival in front of the stairs, despite the heat I did not sweat, but the steps they can in order: each step as you ascend, the air becomes more humid, and when I get to my sixth-floor landing of the shirt has become a second skin.
Patience, I'll do another shower. Within the apartment
tiny, but enough for a single person like me, and throwing his shirt into the basket of laundry. In the bathroom there is still steam in the shower this afternoon, I have to decide to adjust the fan of the vacuum, or begin to rot around here.
As I open the tap in the other room I hear a noise ... it seems the TV. You can not: I have not turned on and also last night, before leaving for the night shift, I unplugged the antenna cable for the sky is threatening heavy rain, which never arrived. But the facts contradict me: the TV is on, and shows images of a plane broke in two, wrapped in flames on the runway of the airport, while the reporter said: "It 'is still pending on behalf of victims of air disaster this morning. The flight FR650, to Paris, crashed for reasons yet to be discovered during take-off from Rome Fiumicino. For the impact of the plane broke in two, and between the passenger seats of power there are no survivors. The workers are still searching through the rubble of the black box, which will discovering the incident. "
But the old woman had almost guessed it: this was the route I should take and then I go to New York, and also to check in I always try to give me the center seats. But it is also very likely that you have already seen the news in the morning and TG only be impressed.
to view pictures remain catastrophic, while in the shower the water continues to roar.
continue to pass on the screen faces distorted by the accident, stretchers that run in the vicinity of the plane and come back with their load of despair, as has become customary for our news. The pain and the agony are always audience.
After the news I'm still stunned watching television, until the weather begins. As always we start with this evening, August 7. SEVEN
August? For a moment my heart skips a few beats ... I turn the alarm confirming the date specified by the TV.
The plane ... the old ... she was right! But ... how is it possible? I look back the clock, this afternoon marked a day less. Somehow one day of my life is gone. Possible that the old ...? I can not comprehend what happened: one day, 24 hours of my life have vanished into thin air with this ... but my life is going on ... And suddenly
I can think of why the old woman seemed so familiar: I'm going to look in the drawers of the old family album ... I flip through, and here's a photo of my grandmother, not just before I was born, who smiles at me with the same sly air of the old park.
This is crazy, I feel the heart beat wildly and I feel suffocated. I look out the window for a breath of fresh air: on the road doing the rounds a few passers-by, and some car runs like a Ferrari taking advantage of the empty streets. We hear the sounds of the low traffic, passers-by, the ongoing work in the parallel street. In the distance, towards the airport, you see a cloud of dark smoke that slowly dissolves in the air.
Torino, 03/31/2009
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