Reading is good because it distracts, but sometimes the distraction has consequences that we can not control.
I was with my backpack in a large and crowded train station, waiting for the train that would take me to a seaside for a few days of vacation with some friends. Pending the regional train to the track in late 10, I stood perched on the backpack with a book of adventure, which was about exploration distant lands, full of mysteries and dangers. "Ah, how nice it would if I were taking a paddle boat to take me into the rain forest instead of the train that will take me to a beach crushed by millions of tourists," I thought to myself. I felt something scratchy speaker, but there I noticed. Then I saw several people dressed in flowered shirts move towards the underpass in the opposite direction from which they were people wearing the usual clothes of those who go to work. A few minutes later came a train with three carriages and went up faded and rusty. He soon fell asleep. I woke up only when the train reached the last station of the line: a small house with peeling plaster, from which ran a narrow road dirt, in a landscape enclosed by high mountains covered with pastures and forests.
A man who was exiting the train, the last of the few passengers, who assured me, no, it was the station-Santa Maria-the-Sea, but that of Valle-Selva-di-Buia. Afraid of being alone in the isolated station, I asked mannikin to give me a ride in the country, where, he assured me, I could spend the night waiting for the train that I would return the next day, the big city station, and then the sea.
While the little man took me to the village driving his van across a road with hairpin bends, I called my friends with their cell phone telling them that, for some strange error of the railways, was finished in one block posto di montagna invece che al campeggio dove avrei dovuto raggiungerli. E mentre dicevo questo, capii cos'era successo: il gracchiare dell'altoparlante diceva che il treno per il mare era stato dirottato su un altro binario, per questo i viaggiatori vestiti da vacanza avevano lasciato la banchina; mentre le persone provenienti dal sottopassaggio erano quelli che dovevano prendere il treno su cui ero salito io per sbaglio, ed erano scesi uno dopo l'altro alle stazioni sparse lungo la linea ferroviaria, tranne me e l'omino che mi stava conducendo al paese.
"Lì può mangiare, e hanno anche delle stanze per dormire," mi disse l'uomo lasciandomi di fronte a una drogheria-bar. Lo ringraziai e entrai nel locale buio e, mi sembrò, anche abbastanza reeking of rotten wood, stewed cabbage and smoked cigarettes at a time when you could still smoke in bars. In the room there were only
the old bartender, a couple of young woodsmen and, sitting at a table in a dark corner, a man bundled in a coat out of season, I felt that as soon as you enter, with his face turned a little upward, rather than looking at me, seemed to smell.
The lady had a way of making offhand, but not quite rude. He assured me that the night I could sleep there without paying a fortune and he promised that the next morning, his nephew m'avrebbe reported to the station. I was just lucky, he said, because he had just warmed up the soup of pork rinds Pork and cabbage that had prepared a few days earlier. It was not just a light dinner of fresh fish and salad that I had imagined before leaving, but had to settle.
As I was sitting at the table in front of pork rinds and fried cabbage, the man with the coat got up and was on my side. Limping, appeared on both legs. "Failure?" he asked, sitting down without waiting for my answer.
"Leave the young man!" shouted the bartender from the bar.
"Do not worry, do not you eat your mica tourist," the ring behind him.
"You want some?" I asked him moving into the pan too full.
"Thank you," he said, and turned to the woman, "Orpheus, bring me a plate. "
He put a scoop in its bowl of pork rinds, then began to clean them up patiently every little piece of cabbage." A food for sheep! "he said to himself, putting the vegetables in the pan," Sheep! " . It seemed to me that saying the word "sheep" his eyes sparkled with joy almost.
ate in silence, he drank a bottle of wine at least, then looked at me twisting his head from bottom to top:
"This is a place unfortunate where people come just by accident. How unfortunate, she can not know and it is better not to know. "
And I, in truth, I had no desire to know, but he kept talking and he told me this story.
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