Multiplying Ratio: Part 9. Arriving to the village of Fluminia Maggiore
The tenth day
The sun was high in those places in early morning, a fountain could refresh my body of that dirt, inevitable. Temperate resident who met me emphasize the fact that I would not share with everyone my happiness, I pretended to be surprised, but in his way was right.
A shepherd with his flock broke my lazy way, I stopped to fraternize with a kitten, we had soon made friends, we tried to leave together, but the ghosts assailed my thoughts.
So we left without any promise.
I bring my vision to a bump coming out of the plane, and had the form of a single breast, Las Plassas.
That day I walked the walk so my breath, as if the plains I bring nothing but disappointment, maybe now I understand the true meaning of piattume, not to be confused with trash.
But everything was not completely behind me, it was as if I had tied an invisible elastic thread that from time to time as he could stretch, always brought back what was unwanted baggage.
My journey took me to the sunny hill, they could find the testimony of a past runic, lovers of the site and discovered that after long and painstaking research by digging below the current level when the territory is presented.
Historical research allows us to relive it in places, of which we know to exist, but an intuition that goes on the level of knowledge allows us to feel able to assert our existence through our fathers, this program is basic existence individual.
We are what others before us have lived, sometimes ignoring them get us very far, so far as not understanding why you had to leave. We see many people who live around it, without understanding the why of things, and try to achieve their desire to see him in assuming that object but the object is not the desire, it is only a means of further confusion.
The road that led me toward the west side of arid land, was rising so pronounced, it is now no longer surprising to me, rather than uphill basically gave me a certain pleasure, almost defiant, no longer with myself but with the territory.
During the climb came to my mind with trivial matters, such as the memory of that house meets quality was all hung with shells, shells, clams, mussels, clams, hard clams. All goodies for those in pleasure. Sometimes when I buy these fruits Serbian I always taste a small amount of raw, incredulous to possible infections.
People by nature believe that evil is the symptom of which he is terrified, but does not recognize what they can infect the mind without being noticed.
Some guys on a motorcycle that I collected during the transition from a small town, accompanied me to the junction that divides us for ever, do not ask questions, tell me that they will spend the night on the beach.
I only see them in the heights, but I know they are right.
The horns of the handlebar have become my only grip with reality, I move swaying more and more, it's almost an attitude that helps me to overcome the challenge of the climb. But I can see not far off the slope of the hill, which will be my bed for the night.
A noisy farm does not give me that quiet that I wanted for myself, but I can not arrogate them are foreign rights, for that matter I wont even more in the area and maybe there's a lot more silence.