I light a cigarette.
I sit next to E. and together we raise our eyes to the MAXXI, the national art museum of the twenty-first century.
We bypassed for the architecture as two mice on vacation.
Contemporary art is a carousel.
We sat in front of a theater built by a South African artist, noted plastic wires and we were bombarded with "untitled".
In the evening, we are still sitting on a white wall designed by an architectural genius of the new XXI century.
Peace.
There is silence, but quiet at this time we are not lacking. Like when we come out to the terrace of the garden of oranges in February of the last millennium.
The morning was warm at that time, the orange trees laden with fruit, and the world quietly ran away, you cross that line noise that is created between a dead place and dedicated to the memory and the road that runs button noise of life.
observe the light coming from windows that spit not long before I was retained by the desire to jump. I
phone rings.
wait V. which should leave the show in minutes.
When she says, V. I speak calmly.
"I was stuck on the third floor gallery 5, have closed, you may come to rescue? "
answer yes.
we observe E. I smile to the happiness brought by the knowledge that soon all end up in a nice restaurant.
"V. is locked on the third floor gallery 5.
Informo E. with the professionalism of an FBI agent acting in some TV series from the late evening, in the meantime I got up, threw his cigarette, and picked up the coat of velvet.
E. raises an eyebrow, thin dark eyes and looks at me, his brain is recording the information. We look
. Both
we do not know how to take the news, that moment is unreal becomes real.
The hoax. We had only imagined just before "you'll see in the close."
We have repeated since we left home.
V. has a slowness of particular importance in certain types of exhibits to visit, you lose.
is no longer the only time of the joke.
We looked again and I'll take a deeper breath. E. understand that I was not kidding.
"What are you doing?" She asks with air still flaky.
"I'll hurry up and look for a guardian before we close in here, you say? "
E. that includes not kidding, that was not a game and the last look, burst out laughing.
A laugh that draws us into a series of harrowing images and grotesque.
trudge toward the door.
Between the two I got the part in diplomatic E. plays another role, reflected and occasionally whispered to me something that the world struggles to understand.
I discovered that, with a certain circle of people around a table can change and turn the talk about themselves as if they were nailed to a fixed axis.
An electron that orbits the nucleus.
thousand different directions, but always the same distance.
I've always loved the atoms.
I've always found it fascinating to think that something with a force so large as to make every part of me.
It 's a theory, maybe in five months someone will find another and the atoms go by the wayside in the archives of scientific bullshit.
I remember the days when I was asked to turn me from standing to that of "bridge".
I never managed from the top, I was just perfect picketing with your palms on the ground.
I tried again even now.
the first attempt my cat looked at me pity.
The second time I felt a certain shame.
the third finally see the world from a different perspective.
my atoms must have considered the idea of making fools of themselves.
This morning I had a meeting with the staff of a local tour operator who will call here ... um ... I think at the moment will remain anonymous.
know that my career as a freelance began.
Let's be clear a free-lance is a nice way to classify those who do not have a fixed salary, do not ever take a loan and will not be entitled to Social Security pension.
Sooner or later I'll be moving from this house by the sea to another in the midst of wolves.
not really a metaphor, if not we can speak of wolves of foxes.
That house has no phone line, internet included.
I am working to understand how to organize.
I need an internet connection, as for most of those who now live with some constraints. Let's face it, if they had notified me of the working calendar, half pigeon is always faster than the postal service but as Apparently the mail is faster.
I considered the idea of a USB stick and while the idea of making a connection in the new house. At some point I realized that for the connection it will take at least two or three months.
I came an attack of existential longing for Germany.
I'm going into one of Escher's works, one of those where we find ourselves in the midst of the infinite around and wonder how did we end them.
The difference is that I am the "why" I know him very well.
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