Here it is: Faces - Carla Parodi
CHAPTER I walked, slowly, so as not to trip on the strings of his sneakers. Would not have bowed again, not that day.
walked, head down. It was funny, chock-full of raven-colored hair frizzy. They were his blessing. Allowed him, in his step forward in the crowd, too hard to hide features and skin are far from beautiful Italian colors. Even when he smiled dodge the blame for not having joined a decade earlier, the complexion of an elite that much attention to the other, was able to recognize skin. He was ten years old, but the 3 January 2009 brought them their evil. With slow pace
clashed nell'andirivieni of travelers. With indifference, these relentless, chasing trains, waiting not only their time but for once did not dodge. Head down
Amir smiled, a hundred meters of happiness because it escaped the eyes, a bias that the dirty pores even more so indelicate. No pink peach. He could not blush, but only blacken the beautiful Milan. He was a child, no color.
Men robotic s'urtavano without experiencing a touch of skin, the smell, the smell or air that filtered through the 23 tracks of the Central Station.
Men, women and children held up suitcases packed with itself. Do not address, even when they accidentally collided. In the short space
afford their own steps, in the frenzy and power that put their luggage in the hold, it happened that boys and girls in denim miniskirt weave their hands with nothing to hear: a casual glimpse of the surface of others who did not give a flavor sated palates too. Look was too much and was brushing against anything. Not for the sudden caress of lips that did excite lovers, the first track.
, it being on a pier at the first car, had only a moment's relief from the biting cold of the passers in the race. This was not their business, in no time.
That kiss, a caress, were a sort of truce in what seemed a march of soldiers in Milan, a station that reflects the heart. Button loud noises, crowded with machines, bolts, synchronous clocks, and homeless men in uniform who are able to hide in caves hidden.
the Armistice signed a kiss and a bench, twenty tracks farther, from which hung strings of blackened Amir. Gave a different pace to hunt and train a bit 'motion to stasis of a child slumped motionless in his two feet square by 'smell of Liberty.
A little girl huddled in a corner, big green eyes, looked and saw the poverty of his Milan.
Marta, who had done little against a column, followed hypnotized the movement of a pair of strings hanging from a bench nearby. The recalled an old pendulum. This helped to float when, as now, asked for his thoughts on just swinging with hypnotic performance to not display images just turn that hurt.
A man stumbled to the track 18 strings of black Amir. It was then raised slowly. He had not seen the child but not without color had escaped, while mending, long slender legs and bitter that they had captured a 'attention shortly before this guy did not seem to possess. With his briefcase in hand sniffed the calves of Martha as a wolf, and stared with a look hungry when he finished he ran his tongue over his lips staring glassy eyes that were done.
No contact, no touch a rape had made little, nameless, faceless, with no color, a little girl intent on closing the lock of the suitcase. The slow movements of him, the saliva that slipped on the double-el'occhiolino who was able to find time to throw the imprisoned in a body that did not like.
He crouched a few steps from the hustle against cement, two steps from a pair of shoes to the track 21, loose, so muddy as she, a stone's throw from an old bruise on his face that seemed kind, and property. All this assured that column against Marta, and there was lost in thoughts.
Amir had made room beside a man holed up in a green jacket in white hands immediately noticed. Then more carefully dug in the veins of a purple chilling, almost no blood that ran long fingers sharp and rough. The calluses on his knuckles but frantic gasping life takes your breath away was the way in which resigned his hands hanging between his legs, bare, wrapped in a gray suit, elegant.
Amir, coffee-colored hands, what he had to pay 2 € for a crime he did not know, began to count. He and Elder at his side, along with, perhaps, came to more than ninety years. He loved that game because he was the only one that allowed him to see themselves in the future.
took to establish a train stop that would have remained so. That stagnation, lack of direction, they stole the illusion of a moment, a future, freedom of travel. The cars were still a long imprecise, since they were reflected in a man absent, incappottato, waiting.
Amir was then that he saw a slender girl, docile against a wall. His eyes were the only ones who felt the desire to see, were low and she was white. But pure white, he thought immediately. He reminded her that she had seen snow fall in the field via Rubattino. There was no contempt in those green eyes and he returned a ten year old boy.
not lowered more than the look, even she did. She blushed. Amir smiled at the sweet unknown.
Two drops on a black sand-colored leather looked into her eyes with an innocence that Martha felt lost. An hour before resting on his suitcase had feared a silent crime. Now leaning against a column rediscovered radiant, dreamy, Marta, imprisoned by an appearance that sometimes vanished from indifference that not all were brought back as a flower all'occhielllo.
With hands in his pockets Amir turned to long, slender fingers that had not been able to warm up, the ones that stretch to pick up a faded photo. The man looked down. The ten year old boy left at train property to continue to watch and talk to a life that flowed slowly in those dirty fingers now. Amir was not able to string while a young girl had been able to cheer each with a warm smile, a look of unexpected kindness, "undeserved".
Amir had more time, the mother was waiting at the camp for lunch.
The train was stopped, the future of reach. He had only a mother and perhaps a plate of pasta boiling and was waiting at the bottom had just ten years. He left the ninety weight on the bench, tied his shoes and ran up color as his face.
The Municipality promised that electricity would be resumed in via Hydro. They had celebrated late, singing music that had lost the notes under the violent noise of the clubs who had heard the names, his friends who were in the Via Padova 23, "police racial." Viale Doria
walked in a single breath to emerge in Piazzale Loreto.
He loved the intersecting streets, as the rivers on the books of Geography, which always ends in some sea. It was always his favorite subject in all schools that had changed remained a constant. Follow finger with the Tigris, the Euphrates and see where it would cross.
Just then he raised his eyes from the books, the first bank fifth B, came back to see the looks of frightened children who always turned away and felt called gypsy or nomadic.
She could not wait to come back to his two comrades who were to have a bad disease because since he arrived at the "Gonzaga Elementary School" a year before had not yet been able to talk to them.
As rivers flowed in a thousand different seas so a lot of shopping streets flowed into the huge square. Amir loved the shop on the right side of the square, the new Nike's, there was a backpack that would both wanted.
was in a hurry, but came back and stood in front of his favorite backpack and it was there that he returned to Roma by Italian boy in no time at all. An elderly woman took her granddaughter to him and explained that as we do not accept candy from strangers should not be so close to those gypsies full of lice that invade the city. That was also the city of Amir, for ten years, and at least a bit 'he liked.
came out empty-handed as he had hoped not, but with a backpack of insults that injure the back. Taken away and that was when Padua was really scared, felt in the middle of the savannah. A procession of police treated a group of Egyptians as if they were animals tame. He thanked the heavens that were in his city with so much to not understand half a word of those insults, but then passed to the hands, just because they did not understand.
Amir hid in the lobby of a building at number 23. It was narrow and full of windows. Crouched behind a staircase leading to first floor. He stayed there for a time because the fear he felt incalculable expanded sounds or maybe it was just the echo of the stairs.
Time passed forever. He concentrated on the wall to his right and started peeling, the plaster came off it was a wonder. Although he liked to play games as children. At one point, the noises stopped, its hands stopped es'impossessò of glassy-eyed girl of unknown station when he saw an inscription: "dirty Jew." The reread several times because he was under three layers of plaster and was slightly faded. No, it was written was used as the Roma or gypsies now, almost like a game, a pastime for those who are bored, said no Jews. He believed that to be the only dirt in the city.
But how long before they wrote those words that even the weather seemed to clear? Suddenly he remembered the lesson of history that gave him a good report card. They were called Jews, the book said they were dirty, only they were dead.
* "It was again a sunny day and you could play. Daniel was healed and the team was complete. Furthermore we could play in his area instead of the school pitch.
not know why I adore it so much that square, so wide, surrounded by towering buildings. At the center of a small gas station, a house with a high wall that said "AVE Duce and our enormous makeshift soccer field. We built it with imagination and tried to stay as far away as possible from that Dino that protected the veranda of his bar with his teeth. Yes, someone complained, but then said "have children." From Venice we went all
port on the tram. I waited half an hour because we had to take not only the right leading into the square Loreto but the one with the driver from the Green Beret. It was Mr. Franco, the father of Luke, saliva is free.
When the tram stopped on the tracks along the right side of the square, Mr. Franco pulled me to him and said, in one breath: "Fear not, you can hop on the tram when I want." I replied with a hasty "thank you know," but our leader's eyes grew serious.
I did not understand and did not understand the gesture for all three hours and passes that flew while we passed the ball, improvised networks in doorways of the houses of the Renaissance. Passers-by were few, and hit a couple but the innocence of our ten years old she was always tender to women, with the umbrella up hand, the other pulling the gentleman next to them that red-faced him she yells at Daniel that she was carrying in a square so ordered so much chaos.
The seven arrived too early, as always, but I would have made a run to get home for dinner that was served there for 15 minutes. Imboccai Via Padova, lived to 23. We arrived early but my cold soup before I was served. I was still, I did not understand, they began to resonate in his head the words of Sir Frank. The black paint still dripping but not erased the word "dirty Jew."
I climbed the stairs slowly, this time looking back, I went home and then someone took away the heat of the room, the taste of cold soup and smiles from the second floor of Via Padova to 23, Family Yehova.
* When she heard more noises Amir left the stairs and down the street as soon as he greeted his friend who lived on the second floor. At first, when he saw the turmoil and felt the police had decided to go by him but the fear and the writing had changed his sneakers lead. Samuel smiled, but her face. So far away from his friend's smaller than a year could see the fear that swam in her cheeks.
Tie the strings again, he lowered his head again so that the world seemed suddenly heavy.
Chang entered the bar, sat down at a table, forget the pasta boiling no longer hoped to enjoy. The place was empty and the scent of fried Chang became the space next to Amir. She told him that there was no way Hydro still current and that after the mess the night before there were men in uniform, armed, who traveled between the trailer.
was exactly what the child found no color when he got home.
weapons not frightened but could not bear that his house was surrounded by eyes that shrinking, which removes the possibility of being Italian. He loved the Roma, also liked the blonde who was not only Italian but as he had the good fortune to bring the colors. They shared a snack and he loved Laura as white as snow. Amir
not told of his escape in the station, even under the stairs and greeted her mother, who had just finished speaking with the man in uniform. He sat at the table, canned tuna and 'Amir, tomorrow tell your friends not to sing anymore, it's better that way. " He smiled to his mother, nodded, thought of the "dirty Jew", the story that repeats itself, and washed three times that night and then prefers to look at Laura. Perhaps she could still sing.
* "It was raining hard that day so I played with Daniel and Luke in the recreation hall. I was sweating as usual when I got back in the classroom and found the lights of class off. "No, the darkness was not only ate my house but my class," was a fleeting thought which was followed by a chorus of "Congratulations Jonah."
was Sept. 18, I was eleven and light the candles. I had so many wishes to express that the first candle went out alone, then blew with all the breath in his body.
I was happy and feeling that kept me up at night because those were my candles and wish I'd blown on them and not the cold wind that came from the front door. It was so cold that the girls put the sweater and Sara haired silky smooth lent my shirt.
was my neighbor's desk. I liked seeing her get in the morning, put on his apron and smiling with other girls. I liked it. From that gust of wind
Sara became just a memory, and I just dropped a shirt on a bench where a man in uniform after talking with the teacher, showing her a piece of paper said, as if it were an order, Jonah Yehova. I got up, and I prefer to remember that it was the wind blow me away from school and take me away Ruffini in my house not only dark, too dirty.
I did the bathroom, washed my arm for me to come to the skin folds. I'd rather see the wrinkled hands that the bruise that this Commissioner Louis Spartans had given me. The evening was the hardest blow out the candles in the living room, it was a flick without dreams, but not painless.
I was eleven and the hour of recreation to me I could dream, so I soon fell asleep. "
*
Amir still dreaming. Maybe Laura, and hugged him because he was the Christmas holidays that had not seen her. Perhaps before going to sleep without the songs that he loved so much he thought of the day, we could still, despite the sharp eyes of the authorities a few inches from him. But the day after what had to be festive resumption of classes was far less joyful than dreaming. He clutched his chest, the smile vanished instantly when he opened his eyes and discovered that Laura had turned into a mouse. Did not scream for shit but it was only another broken dream.
The mother even when they were being Rubattino there was no electricity and that it was just known for her culinary skills. The pasta was always hot, even the rice and the soup too salty so the smell of burning that felt not surprised. Not before he remembered that the stove was not without electricity.
rushed out of the trailer, uniformed men were setting fire to the mountain of waste twenty yards from him. Huge cranes lifted houses displaced. It was yet another eviction.
was that his land. He had few friends last year. He felt a pain in my heart so hard fall on his knees. The mother ran to his aid, helped him but nothing could stand up against Amir land sank beneath your feet. It was his by at least 365 nights spent under the same roof. It was an eternity for him because he felt a bond with the land perhaps a bit 'rough and ruined, but no more than many of his comrades who I have lost the doubles on the streets during the tasks. So much so that Amir had not celebrated Christmas that year but the year after a Rubattino, which was to follow the year 2, for strength.
History had taught him that life follows a chronological order, the change of seasons and full moons, and these are marked on calendars. And it is that you can stop or reverse time.
He had begun to mark his story in a diary for that day long ago, at school, he had heard not to own one. Waiting for 2 d. Rubattino, not zero after Hydro. He knew he had gave him 10 years but Milan again zero.
looked at the policemen who came to be known as rivers and resulted in his next field. Resigned
looked at them quizzically while taking fingerprints, to him that a story I did not have more. No one answered the questions in the desperate mother, they were, those tanks, to make rapid-fire search and nothing. Why did not own anything except the little land which, as "nomads" and "Gypsy," were tied. The child took no color his address book and handed it to the agent. It was all he had and now worth less than two euro of his skin color of coffee.
She did not weep, and not racing. He walked to the Gonzaga had started the second hour and his classmates were still sick. He was sorry but said nothing.
He thought the only companions of the bench he had ever had. He thought the rough hands of a man with green eyes and a girl at the station. He hoped that he had raised there, which had occupied the empty space left next to the man with the green coat. Maybe Green Eyes warmth that could give him that January 7 was missing. If you imagined them talking because even his love could not warm bench have been evacuated.
The bell rang in the ears small interval of all pupils of the fifth frantic C.
Amir approached the teacher, but only after eating a packet of Pavesini by Laura. She smiled. His Green Eyes had it in class every day and had a name. For a moment he drew back the lock of hair that covered his face and went back to a child, Italian, like his Laura. He began to ask questions to the teacher, if there in the calendar year 2 AD because he had spoken with his eyes but he had seen only 1 AD
The teacher Kathy with a lot of patience and compassion for that child's eyes lost showed all the first hundred years the calendar kept in the cupboard. He just wanted to know or felt a deep need to reach out and touch someone had come second year, which he was again denied.
It was then that she saw her mother on the threshold of the entrance door of school. Donatella and approached the Amir. The mother explained that Gonzaga was too far away from Triboniano 110, the new field in which they were transferred with a little courtesy. Amir took a sheet and marked the first day Triboniano forward, hoping that others would have been better.
In a year he had only made friends with Laura and the teacher. Amir took out a dime, he ran out of school for two minutes alarmed the teacher Kathy. Soon came running by the Italian went as white as snow, and gave her a licorice, with fingers still soaked with ink. She fingers without making a distinction from the licorice made based on the bench by his little friend Roma, separated with knife and reached him half. That gesture that took in the new field to the north of Milan together with Laura's tears were the 'only spark of humanity in the eviction, in that life, it seemed that it always returned a licorice rolled on itself and that men in divided to take the trouble to cut with much less heart. E Amir, Without color, there, on land that tasted and spat, he asked why not they used the gun, the sign remained the same, a life is extinguished and another began again.
0 comments:
Post a Comment