A slow step to ultimate goodbye

- So, Alcor, how are you?  How much  from the last time, old loony  foolish?!

- Hi John, I'm very very glad to see you.

- Uhm, I'm finding you a little slimmed...

- Yes... I'm trying the ascetic life according to Schopenauer, in order to get nolontà status...

- You'll never change, my friend...

- Why I have to change?

- No... But you are limping!

- No, it's nothing, my ankle is just joking... Shit...

- Did you run?

- Sure... 20 km, just tonight...

- Tonight? Are you mad?

- I started at 18.30, and I came back at 20.30... it was growing dark while I was still so far from home... It's wonderful running in the darkness, It was also raining... I can't stop one of the most pleasant topic in my life...

- Alcor travels at a speed of 10 km/h! You should work hard to boost your performance... Take a cigarette, idiot...

- Thank you, John. Usually I don't smoke, but I'm learning to heal about it... John?

- Yes, Alcor?

- What do you think about people?

- Could you restrain the issue, please? (smile)

- Yes, you're right (laugh)... Do you think it's possible to comprehend them just in few days, by few glances, by few words...

- It's possible to live being sure of knowing perfectly somebody along several years, but you could always find out something strange in her, something new... Go together somebody, I think, it's really don't cease to learn anything of new in her to wonder your life, every new day... People should not be understood... but felt inside us...

- Yes...

- Are you sure to be fine, Alcor?

- Sure, but give me another cigarette, please... Don't you see how I'm fine?

- Yes, you are like a cloud before thunder... I think you are waiting for something... isn't it?

- Maybe... life is waiting, a cursed and useless waiting for someone...

- It's very clear how you are... (smile) Here is your second unusual cigarette... Però basta a parlare inglese che mi sto rompendo le scatole.

- Come vuoi.

- Scotch?

- Doppio. Con ghiaccio. E lascia pure la bottiglia.

- Ti sei fregato forte.

Non posso allontanarmi da questi percorsi per una decina di giorni che mi ritrovo le ciliege arrossate ed i gelsi acerbi e precoci sugli alberi.
La pioggia cade inclinata dal vento che spira da nord-ovest. Il Sole è una ferita tra le nuvole che brucia questo vento.

Tutto quello che mi rimane di una serata calata troppo presto.
Esiste un punto in fondo a tutto dove l'egoismo e la voglia di vivere gli altri spariscono entrambi. Diventano la stessa identica cosa. Ha pure un nome, 'sto punto.

Che fregatura.