Multiplying Ratio: Part 3. From Corsica to Sardinia, Italy
The fourth day
The day promised to the best of its ability, the sun was already high, a slight breeze allowed to taste better his royal majesty.
The country was looking in the eyes of the indigenous periodicals, a possible accomplice, not realizing that this would never have been possible, because our eyes would never meet, between us was the same difference that exists between those who are now come to the mountain and who is still in the valley. The energy that flows from these opposites allows me to reflect on themselves.
The force of the sea but above the wind have carved the rocks of this place, you can imagine all the different figures that fantasy offers you. There the Indian Ocean, beyond the elephant, the dolphins in the bay below you grant to childish games.
The scent of the shrubs now dried by the sun, a delicious mixture t'inebriano ranging from licorice with thyme, oregano but you can only grasp the memory.
A narrow strip of sand, on which the mainland has built an asphalt road, joining the head to the island. The vacationers are starting to swarm to the beaches, but they are surprised more than anything, they prefer the taste of beer to that of brackish. Useless music set the pace of the day, and now drunken evening at home to go and disappear wash all this unnecessary feeling.
Today my friend John speaks of sintopia, then I was rather taken by these ghosts, those that occurred were acting in me places in my excitement that almost paralyzed my thinking and my actions. At the bar of the camp a nice girl sat across the table that afternoon was more bored than usual so he allowed himself a bit 'well-earned rest, talk unite us into the vortex of our dream differently, she one day a few years ago loved the music of Mahler, were protagonists of a great love-spectators, the same.
The thought of that encounter took us for a few hours, but now we had forgotten the evening of that love lost when we met we were struggling to identify.
The appointment was with my German friends for dinner, I would have given them a bit 'of delicious Italian cuisine "la carbonara" I do not remember what language we conversed, but for them I was now old and tired, I could at most be a high school teacher, a matter of little importance and even boring.
I spent the night shaking the hope that a professor can give a night of love.