had supported the photograph on the desk in front of the computer, after it turned and turned over a hundred times trying to get me to be an inspiration or 'any idea. Certain that the examination of the course of Italian literature had a most pleasant thought for the story to propose the final exam. Instead of the usual written record, which had always been given in previous years, this year had provided a photograph in black and white: a porch with a century against the figure of a man who was advancing. And on this we should develop our narrative.
No, I would not have ever made, two years of being thrown away without even receiving a diploma, this was the expected result.
Okay, today was enough, so it was not anything out of acceptable, it was better to go to sleep hoping that the night brings counsel.
turned off the light, and with my eyes closed I still think of photography, my mind floated between sleep and wakefulness and in that situation it seemed to me that image was not entirely new, it was like in that place, under these arcades were already there I was, because that was not for me any one photograph, but an image that was digging into my memory for a distant memory. And while
sleep took over I was sure that I really under that porch was there already.
No, I would not have ever made, two years of being thrown away without even receiving a diploma, this was the expected result.
Okay, today was enough, so it was not anything out of acceptable, it was better to go to sleep hoping that the night brings counsel.
turned off the light, and with my eyes closed I still think of photography, my mind floated between sleep and wakefulness and in that situation it seemed to me that image was not entirely new, it was like in that place, under these arcades were already there I was, because that was not for me any one photograph, but an image that was digging into my memory for a distant memory. And while
sleep took over I was sure that I really under that porch was there already.
I was eight, I walked with my father holding me by the hand, I do not know what city it was, remember that the day was beautiful, but cold. Suddenly we saw coming towards us a man who was advancing with firm steps, which, when we pass, I touched his arm, then after a few steps he stopped suddenly, turning to look at me. Even I stopped and turned detaching from my father. The first figure that had seemed dark and heavy and now he was no longer looked at me with a smile. Then, not to mention the man held out his hand, inviting me to follow him I do not know why I did it, but I followed him. We turned in a side street where the porches were gone, and we entered a doorway which gave access to a small courtyard surrounded by high brick walls. At the bottom there was a passage closed by an iron gate, and we walked right into that, with a firm step: it was as if the man knew exactly where to go the other side we saw a garden full of trees and vegetation. We entered the garden, seen from the outside did not seem too great, but once there seemed to be rather wide, indeed we could see no boundaries.
- Where we are and where is my father? - I asked if finally with fear.
- Do not worry, Your father will see her soon - she said - now you have to take me to a place.
- But you, who are you? - I insisted again.
- Who are not important, then you will understand, now come and visit this garden.
I was not afraid because the man's tone was calm and then I was particularly intrigued by that place so strange, that now that I looked better, did not seem even more of a garden, but almost a forest, a forest rather large, but how was it possible? - Since we were in a city, or so I thought.
We went into the forest that was full of oak and beech trees, through a winding path. As we advanced the forest became more dense, so that not even filtered almost the rays of the sun. At one point we reached the edge of a small clearing, I was now convinced that he ended up in a forest, on the one hand you could see a small brick building, on the other hand, a bigger house. The man took me up to it. Had two floors and it looked very old, it was a great rose garden in front of the facade and two framed windows. We went, there was a large room, with the rather high ceiling, a table and some furniture. It seemed that the man knew the place well because he went to the back of the room and took a piece of a cardboard box, covered with red cloth.
- Sit down - I said - See what's in this box.
He opened it, was full of very old photographs and yellowed.
There were portraits of people, men, women and children who had never seen, all dressed in clothes that were not used more, more pictures of objects and houses of some unfamiliar places.
I looked at those pictures and I did not know what to think, what meaning could have for me, then I came in my hand a photograph of a child. A
it was about my age. Even my hair was as clear and slightly wavy. Contrary to good look at him just like me, more if it were not for the dress I would say that was me. I was impressed to see the photograph of a child who looked like me so much. The man caught the wonder of my eyes and said
- Preview That's me as a child.
- I ... I like a bit '- I said, stammering.
- Yes, a bit '- the man confirmed.
I turned the photo and read a date: 1912 and then a name, Candido.
- Even my name is Candido! - I cried.
The man smiled, then rose again from the same mobile and always drew a biscuit tin, opened it and invited me to eat:
- They are good - he said.
I tasted one, it was really good, as I had never eaten, I took yet another and another, man ate and laughed. When the box was finished he said:
- Come we go, your father is waiting for us.
He put the box with photos and even the cookies, even if it was empty, then we left the house and went back into the clearing, when we entered the woods seemed smaller than before, perhaps because we had already passed, so that the space a few moments we reached the iron gate and went out into the yard, and from thence into the street.
When I turned the corner of the street I saw my father in the arcades that looked the other way.
- Hello - I whispered to the man - now go.
- Hello - I answered.
- Dad.
- Candide Oh, come on, do not remove, that the gentleman you already have nearly knocked to the ground. Who knows where he went so fast, it's already gone.
- But Dad did not you tried? - I asked.
- No, why? I only turned for a moment - he replied.
I was impressed by the response, then I realized that even though I thought that I was away for a long time for my father that time was not spent for him and I had always been there. So what happened?
- Dad, we have been in this city? - I asked.
- No is the first time that we come from, but it is very beautiful, I think we will come back again.
- Dad, listen, but how come my name is Candido?
- Ah, what a question is ... a strange story, do you think your grandmother had a brother who bore your name. Accadutogli an accident while helping his work in the fields that died was a child, just eight years. Then no one in the family, for one reason or another has given this name as his children and only at your birth, mother and I, we thought it would be good to remember that distant great-uncle.
- But when his uncle died exactly Candido?
- Oh I remember, I think in the early years of the century.
- In 1912?
- Yes, in 1912, right, but how do you know?
- Nothing, nothing, I took a guess.
After sleep I woke up early and noticed that the picture leaning against the desk had fallen. I lifted it and giving it a look before going out again I was sure that today an idea for my story, I would certainly come.
- Where we are and where is my father? - I asked if finally with fear.
- Do not worry, Your father will see her soon - she said - now you have to take me to a place.
- But you, who are you? - I insisted again.
- Who are not important, then you will understand, now come and visit this garden.
I was not afraid because the man's tone was calm and then I was particularly intrigued by that place so strange, that now that I looked better, did not seem even more of a garden, but almost a forest, a forest rather large, but how was it possible? - Since we were in a city, or so I thought.
We went into the forest that was full of oak and beech trees, through a winding path. As we advanced the forest became more dense, so that not even filtered almost the rays of the sun. At one point we reached the edge of a small clearing, I was now convinced that he ended up in a forest, on the one hand you could see a small brick building, on the other hand, a bigger house. The man took me up to it. Had two floors and it looked very old, it was a great rose garden in front of the facade and two framed windows. We went, there was a large room, with the rather high ceiling, a table and some furniture. It seemed that the man knew the place well because he went to the back of the room and took a piece of a cardboard box, covered with red cloth.
- Sit down - I said - See what's in this box.
He opened it, was full of very old photographs and yellowed.
There were portraits of people, men, women and children who had never seen, all dressed in clothes that were not used more, more pictures of objects and houses of some unfamiliar places.
I looked at those pictures and I did not know what to think, what meaning could have for me, then I came in my hand a photograph of a child. A
it was about my age. Even my hair was as clear and slightly wavy. Contrary to good look at him just like me, more if it were not for the dress I would say that was me. I was impressed to see the photograph of a child who looked like me so much. The man caught the wonder of my eyes and said
- Preview That's me as a child.
- I ... I like a bit '- I said, stammering.
- Yes, a bit '- the man confirmed.
I turned the photo and read a date: 1912 and then a name, Candido.
- Even my name is Candido! - I cried.
The man smiled, then rose again from the same mobile and always drew a biscuit tin, opened it and invited me to eat:
- They are good - he said.
I tasted one, it was really good, as I had never eaten, I took yet another and another, man ate and laughed. When the box was finished he said:
- Come we go, your father is waiting for us.
He put the box with photos and even the cookies, even if it was empty, then we left the house and went back into the clearing, when we entered the woods seemed smaller than before, perhaps because we had already passed, so that the space a few moments we reached the iron gate and went out into the yard, and from thence into the street.
When I turned the corner of the street I saw my father in the arcades that looked the other way.
- Hello - I whispered to the man - now go.
- Hello - I answered.
- Dad.
- Candide Oh, come on, do not remove, that the gentleman you already have nearly knocked to the ground. Who knows where he went so fast, it's already gone.
- But Dad did not you tried? - I asked.
- No, why? I only turned for a moment - he replied.
I was impressed by the response, then I realized that even though I thought that I was away for a long time for my father that time was not spent for him and I had always been there. So what happened?
- Dad, we have been in this city? - I asked.
- No is the first time that we come from, but it is very beautiful, I think we will come back again.
- Dad, listen, but how come my name is Candido?
- Ah, what a question is ... a strange story, do you think your grandmother had a brother who bore your name. Accadutogli an accident while helping his work in the fields that died was a child, just eight years. Then no one in the family, for one reason or another has given this name as his children and only at your birth, mother and I, we thought it would be good to remember that distant great-uncle.
- But when his uncle died exactly Candido?
- Oh I remember, I think in the early years of the century.
- In 1912?
- Yes, in 1912, right, but how do you know?
- Nothing, nothing, I took a guess.
After sleep I woke up early and noticed that the picture leaning against the desk had fallen. I lifted it and giving it a look before going out again I was sure that today an idea for my story, I would certainly come.
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