Ben pathetic back champions of the imagination, had been a while that I saw there in the attic, do not really know if you were simply missing or if I saw there. E'da a while that I write on this digital map, tired of cocks of others, tired of listening to people crying, people complain, people crying because he has a shit to complain about. Today after I do not know how long I looked out the window and saw that the sun was out, after some hesitation I found the courage to open it, just a fresh breeze embraced me, young, bubbly, positive, I pointed out that the snow on the peaks shone in the sun, invading my lungs seemed to say: "See here, I come from the" I immediately closed, but oxygen has awakened my memory brought me to something I had read a long, long, long time ago, said:
... I did a little 'hard to figure out what it was then and there: a reflection of this sun, which has invaded last days, he played with the crest of the waves, creating reflections that did not allow me to focus. Attacked by an irresistible curiosity, I took off my shoes and I plunged my legs up to his calves into the sea in May, the first feeling was of frost, then, walking on the sandy ground soggy, my feet are tempered. As I approached, the shape became clearer to me: what had seemed for a moment a man was actually a large log drifting. At seven o'clock in the morning, although by now the sun was already awake for some time, the beach was deserted, so I have not hesitated to embrace his trunk and drag it to shore.
The cold water, its weight, the thousands of cigarettes perched in my lungs have requested a minute's pause before the breath stopped, allowing me to analyze the find. Length of about six feet, freed from the outer cortex, exhibited a color very similar to mahogany, dark, gloomy, but with reflexes that had nothing to do with the mahogany. At the base and about half its length, two arms protruding broken, around which the sea had twisted the algae. At the point where it was broken, Instead, they found refuge, a small colony of sea shells, clinging firmly to the spikes of wood torn. In a flash my imagination ran for miles and miles of seas, rivers, lakes and forests to stop pounding on the edge of a mountain stream: on the edge of a colony of tall trees climbed in the sky, looking for the sun. Supported at their roots, the stain of snow that can melt even the summer. Among them, my family tree and his dream, his insatiable desire to know, to know, to escape and find out. I've seen the good Lord heard her prayers, I saw his hand to give instructions to fate because it would create the storm, I saw the lightning strike and leave, I feel the pain of the tree and then cut away from there ... to me miles and miles of seas, rivers, lakes and forests, photographs of a world that have foundered on this beach, close to me, at my feet wet and cold. Offhand, I thought I'd take him with me in the attic, paint and place it in a corner of the window, its shape articulated, its smooth surface it would make a wonderful ethnic sculpture. I saw my blind selfishness, and there I understood: with a boxcutter I recorded a sentence on the wood of her belly, I prayed that someone would find her and then dressed, I plunged to the waist and I pulled off ... Good
journey, my friend.
Be Ambassador in a world far from my little thought.
God willing, someone will read it.
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