II
Amsterdam imagined to find all hippies and people that lived above the rows. Well, I was wrong. Here too the family and some solid values \u200b\u200blike house and car were the most popular. What can I say. The man follows a prototype and squeeze the juice a city that is the other. A little 'as changing zoo gorilla carrying the cage where they grew up. Gaetano, say, had found the woman in Castellammare or end of the world, would lead the same life, with the same pace, exactly the same expectations.
Me and Gary had not brought anyone. One evening, dealing with a drunk in a bar down the sea of \u200b\u200bSean, I met him by chance, he made more than me, and we spent the night pulling out shit. That's it.
Gary had moved to Amsterdam in love with a Dutch tourist on holiday in Sorrento. Gone to visit her was not returned. He now had a secure job, a house with a garden, and was expecting a child by his girlfriend, Hamber, who showed a blind adherence.
Gaetano kept a certain nostalgia of Castellammare. It thrilled a lot while I spoke, and added: "Saints' in the Netherlands at the end you live in peace, without worry. I figured that I forgot the keys next to the van one day and go off. Of course, the sea sucks, the weather is worse, and the kitchen have to invent. But in the end the two-hour direct flight Transavia landing at Capodichino. Do you understand? When it comes to birthdays or celebrations get out of the race, "
was happy to chat. He told me the garden, the location of new furniture, sometimes Hamber wore out to dinner, a football match in Serie A from the satellite, and was proud of his white van to: they were all there in the back garden tools. He spoke of that damn van, so slowly, savoring every word, stripping from me. The calm, that I wanted to quickly change register, bothered me. Probably his life project was said to be complete. But honestly, I was sitting there listening to him sick. I could not help it. That expression related to the same happy face fucking my sister when I complained of being inconclusive, she was instead framed as a paro paro Gary: work, family and blah blah blah. I hated their looks senz'affanni! A
say around Gaetano was a straight. One of those who have understood that it is better to step aside as soon as possible, that things are going badly. A loving person, which is pursuing the perfect scheme, dreamed that the majority, and succeed just fine. The minority - which I believe I belong - is out wrung from this perfection of questions like: "What I would do in real life?"
Meanwhile the world goes round and round without being aware of our lack. Objects that eventually become unnecessary. Strangers.
Gaetano began to speak of the unborn. Hamber then made him a surprise. He held his breath and reveals the miracle boy. At the news Gaetano did not stay in the skin. Amazing emotion came out of the round eyes and sincerely.
Watching those two hugging affectionately touched me too. And a drop of pure light I rested on the heart. The anger that rotted in the chest for a moment of affection was covered in some way and freeing the soul illumindola. I put aside the grudges and I found myself coming to terms with the truth. Oh, yes. I hated Gary because he was happy while I navigate between existential doubts and purpose of life away from being perceived. Envy is an ugly thing, but the envy of the happiness the worst.
left Italy I was not madly in love or the pleasure of traveling or who knows what else. I came out because it was the only thing to do, the only remedy to avoid going crazy, as soon as I got the impression that the people I was going around like vultures, and I lay there on the ground lifeless, the carcass to finish. Gaetano
if they beat the power of Dostoyevsky and lived equal in peace. So much so that I would have traded her life with the hours spent reading, filling my head with myths and ways of understanding, just to cheer. Fortunately, the evening
straightened. Sometimes there is a need for someone to hunt out of trouble, that alone is hard. Was not for me I continued to squeeze your brains out without cavarci nothing, but to celebrate the good news we got in the van all three. Soundgarden
We went to a local on Marnixstraat. Ten minutes later he was rolling a joint and playing pinball.
evil thoughts vanished. At least for a tot.
roll While we were there met him two strikers insisted that the Dutch in the challenge. They won the Italians and we paid the ride. In the meantime, some friends joined us for the party and Gaetano widens: Sacha, Karol, Sonja. They organized a football league as at school. Italy v Rest of the World.
One of the guys from the rest of the world, having lost all the matches, said: "What we are so many happy and I invite you to our office to drink champagne and eat sandwiches,"
We looked into his eyes for a moment, just a second , grabbed the coats and followed them.
The office is located right in front of Soundgarden. They opened the door. We went down a wooden staircase that led us into a spacious living room with hardwood floors, spilling the bar counter with a juke-box, and black leather sofas. Outside the terrace (which was at the level of the channel) was moored a boat, a barge of the ones I had often seen between the channels loaded with drunk people, especially on weekends. He
one of the Dutch: - We organize boat parties with music, wine and girls. Our company is doing well. We have the money, we must spend them!
I asked if I could pour a beer.
- Make yourself at home - Bright said. It
spillai three. Occasions like this captain so seldom there is to take advantage.
The girls pulled out of the smoke and started to taxi. The party took off. From the wooden staircase that descended continually someone new without embarrassment mingled with the group towards a drink or taxiing a barrel. They put on good music and started to talk and dance and go up and down, and here and there. These, and those who continued to arrive, filling the room, came from all over Europe. What happened reflects the essence of the city.
Amsterdam is the hub of dreams and itching of young Europeans united by the desire to meet and exchange views, an Englishwoman by using more or less crooked, bring with passions like painting, photography, writing. And I put myself there for a half. I, yes, I wanted to be a writer, I had met a couple of guys that give me to do and take off after a few drinks strong, to those places where it is said to happen, the miracle of art, when the thoughts of two strangers mix and the result invisible until you take it home, and creates, giving it the shape you create something that you bring with that bit in more that the meeting leave you impressed. As the fund in a glass of wine, like a slap, like an orgasm.
I had the impression, although I lived in town recently to be part of a large tribe. A young tribe. To meet an old man in the street could be a ragazzzo dress with a carnival or a wax statue. The cane, alcohol, prostitutes, something struck me from the beginning of artifact, the mirror for the skylarks for tourists and idiots. That was the crust. One way to make money. The juice was very different.
to take was the spirit in which the boys were looking for a way in life, the answers they gave, and I perceived squottate practice in art galleries, from street musicians, from places like the Schoum Overtoom 301 or, in which for a couple of money listening to music, bevevi beer, and walls the artists exhibiting their works. This word was that I caught the essence of Amsterdam. And I was fine.
During the evening I met a guy. His name Mutongo. He was twenty years or so. Well, this Dutch guy almost seven feet tall, slim, blond and pale as a candle, called himself after Mutongo have lived six months in a religious mission as a nurse, just Mutongo, a city ravaged by poverty in Rwanda. It was after watching a TV documentary about the civil war that had taken the spring: he could not remain indifferent, had to do something. He felt the overwhelming need to help. I had told so many about the war in the days that followed I could not sleep. With the same charity, once a week, would leave for the Philippines where he met with misery, death and famine. I wished him good luck.
Then, as the sun rises, the rooster sings, the wave that washes the shore, after talking about maiming, rapes and diseases, Mutongo completely done beer and smoke started to flirt with a English girl. At that moment I saw life and death walk hand in hand so that I could not distinguish.
The room was full of boys, and came to last a couple holding hands. She was not a great beauty, but had a great body. Immediately started to drink and smoke like everyone else.
The girl went up from the body exceptional speed. I snapped. We started dancing together tight. I liked it. The girl was playing. He put a hand between her legs rubbing well.
"What are you doing? Out here there's your boyfriend, think a moment! "
He would not listen to reason. He took me by the arm and led me upstairs. At first dark corner, we found that we gave to us to do.
It was as spontaneous exchange Christmas greetings.
After finishing we went back in the lounge. Nobody seemed avercene bad. Spillai me a beer and sat on the couch to rest the knee, above the medulla. The girl from the body exceptional poured champagne. Then he went off at half staggered terrace embraced and delighted to see her boyfriend.
When the evening ended, the girl from the great body came up to me claiming my number. The boyfriend there, watching while I was writing, without batting an eyelid.
Mutongo, meanwhile, had gone away.
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