Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Brookstone Helicopter Broken



I took the dog out and the day was beautiful, we went to the park on the left side of the hill, invaded by the sun. It was like spring, we played with a leash, she almost ran frantically back and forth and round, with me as the center of the circle.
four o'clock I went out with my son, but the city was in shadow now, and the streets on Sunday to go to Piazza Cavallotti, where the shop run by Pakistan remains open, is almost deserted. He had raised a lot of wind, Perugia was all completely without even a gray color. Cosimo has cried so much, perhaps dazed by the cold, looking for something fun to show, a flower, a curtain, there was nothing. I crouched beside the stroller to tell him something, I saw my hands very rough in that light insensitive, dull. I continued to walk towards the square Grimana, where at least the trees were green, but a very dark green, and a score between boys and girls playing basketball in the pitch that you have read, recently, in international crime. They passed very few cars, the sounds echoed in a vacuum for me inexplicable from the physical point of view. Cosimo would not stop crying.
It seemed to me to figure out how to be old.

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