now nine years ago, I saw for the first time in Naples. I was with a friend, still alive, too.
Overwhelmed emotionally from southern cities that, like other (Lisbon, Barcelona, \u200b\u200bRome) made me think of some way to come in there, with clear reference to the Hindu doctrine of transmigration soul, one afternoon I separated from Giampiero, to forward along the lonely roads of Toto, Diego Maradona and Massimo Troisi.
opposite the university, a square was the scene inhabited by a small library that instead of giving plastic bags of brown paper bags to put inside the books, as if they were bread. Bought "The Swimmer" by John Cheever, I was sitting on a wall to read it, and while the hero dives and emerges from the pool of the villas ten miles from Bullet Park, children are challenged to balloon in an area of \u200b\u200bminimum cement , surrounded by cars that were on the sidelines.
Unlike what I was taught as a kid, every so throwing bombs against the doors and hoods, and that their insubordination against the universal laws that made them fascinating and fun all in all, mostly because I was not one of the owners of the machines.
Swimming with John Cheever, discovering one of the most extraordinary writers never met before to find myself, after a good walk, sit on some stones thrown at right angles to the waterfront to the empty blue.
Here, I was surprised after some time writing a poem. It had to do with broken bottles by drunken teenagers and thrown into the sea, with a cap of various blues, and with the fear that someone would steal the notebook where I wrote poems. Rereading
"The swimmer" after ten years, I noticed that it has lost none of his brief perfection. Giampiero I thought about calling to tell her, I agreed.
must have thought the same when Edinson Cavani, the ninth of the second half, dived into the sea to hit the ball and direct it for the third time behind Marco Storari. The head, or perhaps heel. Napoli 3, Juventus (post 2006) 0.
At the end of the whole stage was set to sing the love life of a soldier, and also through the television screen, I felt the same goose bumps that I would certainly have tried according to St. Paul because, for some mysterious reason, probably due again to the doctrine of transmigration of the soul, the soldier's love song always made me the goose bumps come in normal, let alone sung by sixty thousand of S. Paul.
after the race, President De Laurentis has issued statements on Cheever's swimmer, but felt compelled to point out that it will win the Scudetto, however, AC Milan, because Berlusconi will do everything to get it, also influence the referees decisions regarding the validated networks without going through regular offside.
This statement, recalling some 2006 phone calls between "insiders to the arbitrators' Rossoneri and linesmen, and other correspondence discovered phones (I wonder why only a few months) among the saints Moratti and Facchetti and designs of that time, I was saddened for a moment.
Want to see the leagues are all made up and we're still here to watch the games as of fools? Or want to see that the samples are not loaded but the Italians are the best in the world to always think the bad faith of the black jackets? And finally, what the points of the story of John Cheever was not convinced by Aurelio De Laurentis?
in doubt, I preferred to follow Neddy Merrill, the hero of the story, until the final pool. I have seen the collapse of beginning to cry. Unhappy, cold, tired, dismayed. I followed the swimmer and could hardly get home, finding immersa nel buio e chiusa a chiave, fino ad accorgersi che era disabitata.
