The first time was on the street in the evening to half past nine. She had stopped at a cigarette machine, a few meters after that of condoms, where he had left a crumpled bill. Normally did not smoke, had never even bought cigarettes with his money, he was always able to obtain from others who offered them to him for compassion, or sometimes out of gratitude. He put the coins into the slot, they rang in the box inside, then pushed a button that flashes to tell you that the Camel had ended, and the same happened to Marlboro and Merit, as long as the machine decided that the money's not going to genius. The display faded no longer a penny, and so it was that the dealer took a punch in the stomach, while a tall, thin boy approached calmly.
- Want a cigarette?
Diana gave him cast a grimace rather talkative, but when she saw him in the face relaxed pursed lips. The boy's face was so calm and sincere that he could do nothing but add:
- Thank you.
Seconds later he was able to note that the package was put back in your pocket without taking a cigarette for himself. He asked why, and you can say that there began their knowledge: the boy began to quibble abundantly on the subject, saying several theories for which he had decided to quit but felt compelled to bring along a pack of ten, he explained that the package was the same for years, and that filled him transferring cigarettes from other packages . Diana had always hated people who talked too much, but the logic and clarity with which he expounded his bizarre argument, the enchanted, focused on every word, followed his train of thought so easily that only after about ten minutes saw the His legs were going to inertia, parallel steps by imitating him. Noting
to be in the direction of his house, Diana asked him if he wanted to get something to drink: and he not only accepted with pleasure, but what he had proposed was all they did. Obviously she had in mind only a glass of vodka, but when he went away he had already forgotten everything. It happened in a long time as if he poured all the pictures of this world on the surface of the eye. He spoke of old ladies at the post office, continued to speak ill of their youth and their pathetic ways, often children, to pity for the misfortunes of old age, women of unnecessary expenditure in constant growth, such as lip gloss, the waxing, the incense, items of underwear humanly inconceivable, cosmetics, shampoos oil with herbs, ballpoint pens, complete with pink pom-pon, refills telefoniche vitalizie eccetera; delle futili ragioni per cui il cattolicesimo continuava a perdere adepti; della sua personale attrazione per la nebbia autunnale, decisamente il fenomeno atmosferico più straordinario di sua conoscenza; delle sue interminabili attese ai concerti, giunto sempre in largo anticipo; di come gli riuscisse facile commuoversi davanti ad un vecchio quaderno di scuola, o un cartone animato che da piccolo poteva recitare dall'inizio alla fine, ma la cui memoria era stata portata via dal corso dei feroci anni adolescenziali; di come trovasse molto più stimolante cercare delle immagini negli spazi tra le nuvole, anziché nelle nuvole stesse; di come non esistessero più le grandi attrici veramente belle, e di come nessun ritocco professional could make such, the best restaurant in which he had ever eaten, in Amsterdam, the winter afternoon when the bus, for twelve whole minutes, he could not move his eyes red hair that surround the face of a girl which looked like a Botticelli to the coffee break, while the notes of a fantasy of Schumann's gently pounding timpani, how ever no vagabond had ever managed to sentence him as their dogs, forced to a life worse than it normally would be responsible them with any other master of the unexpected benefits of a hot foot bath after a run of twenty minutes in the rain, people did not know how to properly use even proverbs, the oldest beauty of this world, his obstinacy in keeping open the shutters of his room until the time of going to sleep, to have always before their eyes the lights of the street lamps, much more poetic as to tell her, how The French, like La Fontaine, Balzac, Diderot, Voltaire, Proust, Baudelaire, Rousseau, Moliere, and many others had always been damn right about everything, how the adults, as they progress through the years, repurchased substantially the wonder at the simplest things in life, the subtle touches of color in their gray routine, whose efforts could be alleviated only have come home after work, a smile of their daughters seienni; the deepest depths of memory, capable of smashing up a scent for days or decades before a melody seemingly forgotten, the free afternoons in which he went for the less busy streets of downtown, and sometimes stopped to chat with the girls sitting alone in a bar, or on the curb, asking them how they were, how things had gone the day, if they were happy and if somehow he could make them so. These and many other things that sleep forever removed.
The confusion of the morning, an accomplice of the absurdity of that unprecedented, Diana led to the conclusion that this was never really happened.
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