close yourselves in the street, between the slots cut out silhouettes of passers-by, grab handfuls of deplorable vacuous and dull eyes, between the wakes of the cars launched 'against each other in the lanes merged with the nearby pavement exhausted from a full day of talking and shopping bags, I remember when I bought my first heavy jacket, was for the trip to Russia, was the first day of work to be boss, for his niece was allergic to dairy products, are very happy to find you well, better get some phone calls when you ignore it, pretend to be anything, take ten minutes to think about the last dream, she left the house and had a stiff neck and caressed her back and you scratch a little, as designed, go to the cinema tomorrow if it's free because we are the number plate, ten minutes to focus on the figures opaque filtered out of the tent, the window dall'acchiappasogni of wood, from the terrace, from tablecloths into large squares hanging from the railing, trees and telephone wires, so light that they appear in the morning shadows or stains from the kitchen.
ten minutes to imagine that around lunchtime, in front of a mirror, she observed the reflection dell'appendiabiti distracted by the door and an anonymous brown umbrella, which will become a December evening huddled in the shelter of a roof to ' entrance of a cinema, which will become a wall of pink flowers climbing in a cottage near the lake, which will become a story by Pasolini, discovered one of the last exam, which will become a meeting-so intrusive and laws-this-piece-than- is-really-nice, which will become a small smile, cloaked in a white face and thin red hair.
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