Multiplying Ratio: Part 4. Again in Sardinia, Italy
The fifth day
"It was early morning call me at the window, I hear you want to kill Francis ...".
It was early morning and hummed to myself the song that had nothing in common at that time, if not the early hour, it perhaps death that accompanied my ride, but not a real death, do not believe it, but an ' other than that you do not care because intangible, that which always accompanies the man who is not afraid of it. Death as a place that produces and is produced by the transformation.
But I did not know about me would die, and what would be reborn, but how to stop a process that was now beginning, as this glimpse into my simple pedal.
Samana Siddhartha at the three things they were teaching, fast, think, wait. Taught me what my life?
The cool morning regaled my way, my curiosity from the road slipped into those hidden streets, that I were permitted. The west coast watched the castanets me away, who knows what will become of the hill overlooking the ocean which once was dear to me.
But there was no time for memories, the sun now eleven undertook to climb dramatically.
The source was surrounded by trees that told the life that was about it, the coolness that procured this place was huge, almost surreal, I rifocillai undisturbed for several hours.
I walked the streets of the unnamed country (St. Francis of Aglientu) when I saw the shop of a blacksmith, his kindness far exceeded the hardness of his profession, I am presenting all his museum, he indicated to the deeds of old My eyes, the secret alchemical transformation was there before me, there was no longer around the origin, the hammer hitting the metal when heated masterfully stroked the forms that would have resulted from his creative activity.
I left amazed at the people understand it, basically I was making a miracle like her, but none of us could understand him, who had asked me how come the same riding that way, I would have answered in a thousand ways, and each time in different ways, but few asked me, and many if they demand it.
I continued on my way, men barking cork harvested from plants at the end of the descent I found myself with a flat tire, stopped near a farm, on the pillars of the gate was hung mo 'of trophy horns of a bull, I was immediately brought in, few questions and very poor courtesy, immediately resumed his journey.
The walk of this country gave me a great desire for ice cream, but more than enjoying my cone tasted quell'andirivieni of beautiful girls looking for a husband, a terrace garden overlooking the sunset behind the Valley of the Moon.
The moon, beautiful companion, dear moon, moon, love, moon, hateful, murderous moon, moon, goats, moon closer to my dreams, my loves away moon, moon, sage, moon west, the moon that you can not anything. Moon of my life.
Also that night I could rest.