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The dress is not the Monaco, but protects from the cold (3p.)

Hugh managed to struggle to control the codate trout, the heart was beating a thousand and the seizure of the moment boarded a fair amount of water in his boots and was about to slip on a stone covered with moss, but he succeeded in some way to regain the shore with the trout still hooked. Then he examined it carefully, (Damn, was really a big trout!) But his face darkened immediately seeing which way the wire was twisted and who knows where he dropped the hook ...

Annoyed threw cane and trout in the dry river bed of the river and sat on the bed of stones.

He took off his boots with difficulty, the socks were soups, frozen feet were gnarled and wrinkled like the skin of an old man. Were reddish as sour cherries, while the skin under the nails and on the bones was white and everything seemed to be on view from meat butcher.

He felt in his pockets and pulled out the catalytic warmer, it was still loading, hand contact was pleasant. Then came the soles of the feet against each other causing a crack in the knees and feeling a sharp pain in the groin, put that thing between your feet warm with the same style with which you put a slice of ham between two pieces of Fresh bread and keeping the big toe with one hand, squeezing his socks in the other, so he remained motionless until he felt the blood backflushes purplish veins and bulging of the feet. Then drew a deep sigh of relief.

In that moment of bliss Hugh went in spirit to the black figure against the light that he had seen on the train framed the window as a future framework or a shadow of China.

the passage of the convoy had been intrigued by the fact that he had stopped right there on it: it had never happened, then he immediately got out of the stack to see what was happening. Finding a quiet scene, he resumed his fishing, but every now and then, however, the gaze rested on that train, railway carriages of those lacquered wood with white and blue, the puffs and especially intolerant of the boiler at that window where you could see more unrest: figures moving through from one location to another, meet, mingle, stopped face to face, passed over to other windows. Finally all was quiet, still, still. Only a black figure of a woman was extruded from the window, a sunbeam was able to highlight only a black scarf around her head, as well as black in the shade.

The rest was prolonged and Ugo pestered by the steam engine that had failed to break his peace, he thought that there was no place to flee, but was increasingly drawn to this window, attracted by the silhouette slim, but powerful, elusive to the woman, neither young nor old, neither beautiful nor ugly, neither notice nor blonde: black!

alternated gaze between the flickering glare of the water and changing the black outline of the shadow in the window shut as desired Smoke and tongues of flame. And the heart is warmed. Then thought better of his loneliness, his inability to deal with women, his indecision, his thoughts, the missed opportunities ... Counting now find that the adventures were not few, but for the fact were only adventure stories without substance, everything was fine as long as it remained superficial, non-binding, but as soon as there was a hint of depth, the birth ties, with proposals for the future, even simple projects, Ugo lost its security, its calm, its peace.

The true knowledge of a woman, to accept as a whole, its strengths and weaknesses, hands and feet, flesh and spirit, past and future, blocked him, scared him until you feel the chills on your back and chest in a cold bleak. Even the sinuous forms and abundant of her body, her silky skin, especially on this exciting and irresistible became secondary, eventually becomes completely indifferent as those of a stone statue of a perfect and subtle beauty. They took the body rather than invisible and intangible characteristics that are the true appearance of persons before nuanced and promising, then clear and contrasting, and finally net unchangeable, with irreconcilable desires.

So he had gone from his mind, and his life, all his women, and all his stories were finished, leaving only thin and meandering track. It was only with women! In the same way it was over with family, friends, companions of the movement, co-workers ...

Ugo did not want to be explored, probed deep drilling from outside, the conversation about himself made him more naked than I can do the physical nakedness but he had always accepted with extraordinary ease, talking of his feelings made him more ashamed of any immoral act, not being inclined to take was more than willing to forgive and understand. It was also why I had no interest in drilling the others, no desire to discover buried treasures, veins or a secret underground rivers.

The closed, narrow, dark, had always provided a strong physical discomfort, the caves had been the terror of his child. He preferred to remain on the surface, the light, under the sky.

of this surface would prefer the least altered by man, pristine nature as a child she had at hand and then over the years had started to look further afield, more and more desperate.

The mountain, forest, brook, fisheries derived from this. But another fact justified the choice of fishing instead of other activities such as looking for mushrooms, climb the highest peaks, walking just for the heck of it: love for the ritual.

Life planned, no surprises that unfolds according to a predetermined schedule in detail and which does not escape even the most stupid action, the most banal gesture was receiving over him an irresistible charm, hypnotic. The fishing was a ritual or better fishing for Hugh was a ritual, nothing was left to chance or the unexpected, the important thing was not to catch the fish, but play just as it was thought, every action in the best way possible and in due order of time without forgetting anything. During the ritual, the time spent at high speed, the greater the more the gestures were slow and thoughts were light and calm. The fishing was a ritual positive because was imposed by others, but chosen by those who officiated, the stupid job of warden was negative because it was a ritual developed by the master and now by Ugo who was to act, in fact you had to attend, without being conscious of the smallest step or activity particular. However, even this silly ritual work was always better improvisation, dell'insensatezza, the chaos of modern life.

At one point he turned the black shadow of the side for a moment, and Hugh saw the supple lines of her body stand out like a distant horizon in the light of the window, the woman was confused with nature. It was a moment, then resumed the contours form a squat and nameless until almost disappeared from sight was just a ball wrapped in a handkerchief.

Hugh tried to think of who belonged to that shadow, who was the woman who wore, but this was anything but an exercise in ritual, but required considerable skills of analysis, intuition, imagination, but this was not the most worrying: the difficulty was not having a single reference, the more uncertain path forward that was not black shadow that changes form every second.

soon exhausted Hugh thought of nothing else, the fact that this very thinking these thoughts were not part of the rite of fishing, were unexpected, as was the rest of the train on the bridge, as it was at the bottom of the capture trout.

Suddenly he turned and looking at the fish gills was surprised that in alerting you inflate and deflate at the same pace with which employed his lungs still out of breath after exertion unexpected, emerged from the mouth of a trout thin wire, its a slight puff of breath.

Suddenly the trout gave a last gasp, and then stood still, and matte gray as so many other countless stones.

The sun was already beginning to fall between the peaks of the old wood.

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Latimer: the words of Carlo Pignatelli and the fear of dreaming

In an interview with Catena Fiorello (http://dellamoda.it/articoli/2009-01/catena-fiorello-intervista-carlo-pignatelli.php) Carlo Pignatelli, the question "where were you born?" The the famous fashion designer said " to Latimer, a village 15 km from Brindisi, very small, but over the years did not even great efforts to improve. So every time I go back I think with profound regret that nothing has happened again and nothing beautiful . "

Carlo Pignatelli's response is both sharp and realistic that I will not conceal, he yielded in me a strong effect of disturbance, and because of the contingency the next elections may give rise to thoughts and intentions which could make a fresh start in community Latianese. Far be it from me the desire to manipulate the statement of the famous designer for electoral purposes, but I would like to share with you some considerations that are essential to shape a constructive approach. What

Latimer is under the eyes of all: the local politicians, citizens, children helpless in front of the ugliness and lack of structures aimed at their growth. Latimer is a suburb of the South, where young people just want to escape, perhaps not far away, sometimes enough to live in Lecce to play the opportunity to try to realize a dream, which often has proven a fine project. Latimer is the place where more and more young parents dream that in the future will escape with their children, even in cities where they are going to study.

Latimer Today may very well be the ideal laboratory for some sociologist who wants to understand the effects (negative) impact of aging. Direct effect of senility is the uncontrolled spread of unhealthy "wisdom", such as sorting the worst effects of unconsciousness, as the force (because of constraint they are) who presents a new way to go if he wants to give himself an opportunity.

But the thing that paralyzes most of Latimer is fear. An atavistic fear that I believe we latianesi send us for generations, which once was to the bosses, then to the Mafia, now for the future. A fear that, for more than twenty years, makes us totally immobile. In this stagnation were the only ones to move the politicians, a sort of pathetic but effective individuals motivated by careerism, which have plunged the country into an abyss of intellectual and economic poverty that makes it increasingly difficult to lift.

Latiano What do you need today?

1. A commercial and entrepreneurial class that supports this or that politician just to get a personal return, often to the detriment of the entire community. Besides, many of the current politicians have learned, in various forms, to make employers and therefore be unfair competition for entrepreneurs to professional.

2. Of a political class capable of formulating a project and made so as to create conditions for real growth for the whole community and not to promote an individual or a particular group of friends.

3. Of a citizenry that is shaken off the torpor in which she has fallen, not swallow all the daily hardships, the result of administrative disaster, pushing down with the phrase "And got it to but lights!?" As if they were pills to swallow with the usual glass of water.

4. Of a class of professionals who do not exploit the higher level of education to win votes from citizens, or favor from politicians

5. Of intellectuals who stop living in a world of ideas and speculations that traversed the brain, producing only sterile criticism of the small world around them. I believe that it is this group of professors, painters, poets, sculptors, writers, musicians, intellectuals can be decisive for the number of awakening and a revival of Latimer

Finally I would urge the younger ones to believe strongly in their dreams and not to lose hope that they can be realized even in a country like Latimer, since most of the good politicians, honest businessmen, intellectuals, Latimer needs of their own dreams. Eleanor Roosevelt said: " the future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams "

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The suit does not Monaco does, but protected from the cold (Part 2)

gray-green eyes of a woman looked out the window dirty green surroundings. The car was closed to air, the dusty curtains and pulled the stove to a thousand, making the air breathable. Maybe that's why, maybe because it was a beautiful day, perhaps because at that point the railroad climbed the hillside and offered a wonderful view (but why you should always find a reason?), The woman opened the window, took a deep breath, put his iron frame arms, elbows pointed to the faded cardigan spring, chest pressed against the cold glass, looking at the marvel. So its gray-green eyes with long lashes, light brown, curly chestnut color of dried, rolled, pointing zigzagged here and there while the train was running. He ran, but not too much, because the climb was challenging. Like two flies in a closed glass jar these balls gray-splashed second unpredictable trajectories, but still enclosed in the folds of the eyelids. These trajectories correspond sudden, as related by a giant, invisible pantograph, so many points, objects, plants, animals observed. Among these things happened at one time a fisherman who was fishing in a stream and the image did not last, like the other, a few seconds as the train and hobbled just as the coach of the gray-eyed woman was enclosed by two lines stretched the key the bridge, making a big puff steam, stopped.

The woman immediately took to understand what was going on, but the controller reassured her by saying that the line was blocked, there was the red. You can understand then how the woman had plenty of time to better observe that fisherman fully dressed and with the scarlet beret.

Without even much effort saw him once in the skilled angler, the great hunter, the famous explorer, in short, the man who live by hunting and fishing and, with this unique activity, can feed a whole family, full of hungry children around. A man like that could afford the children they wanted, and even women ... Who knows how many adventures could tell, how many times had defied the doom, how many times he had brought home the skin by a whisker ...

At that time Hugh entered the creek, took a few steps until the water washes over the edge of the boots, because he wanted to try to get in the pool downstream, but throwing from behind the gengone without being seen. Also taken the initiative to relieve foot, jailed for several hours in those blocks of rubber, were inflated.

the gray-eyed woman almost oriental highlighted cheekbones, this gesture seemed of the utmost audacity, as the one who dared to cross a swollen river. He felt cold to the fisherman and took refuge for a moment inside the compartment, but sitting with my nose stuck to the glass. It embraced sharp elbows and a shudder ran down my spine. At that time he also felt the other to the fisherman, a sort of admiration, it is estimated, envy, love ... (Spots imagine!). Ah

because her husband never went to either fishing or hunting! and now, he had lost his job after the car was invented, it was always locked up at home doing nothing and if it was just coming out to drink or go out of the tavern loafers? Why not touched in the slightest desire to find a new job suited to the new times, the desire to get busy at any way to advance the family, to give a steer to their existence, to seek at least a taste for adventure?

The elongated gray-eyed woman, strong cheekbones and mouth surrounded by thin lips, identified in that fisherman's boots, plunged into the icy water all that was not his man, had never been and never would have become . He saw in him a set of qualities, characteristics, attributes that had always sought a man, and she felt that if the fisherman could carry them, hung like Christmas tree balls, and occasionally shone intermittently, it was enough beat for a moment the gray-green eyes.

shifting gaze the mesh bag with expenditure made at the market square of the clock could not help but think about his children and their insatiable hunger, their desire to live. In them he placed all his remaining hopes, as the years went by recognizing that they were the only promise that life had kept: they were healthy, beautiful, blond like her, in their time reflected his wishes. On the face of her man instead reflected his anger, his fear, his anxiety. And now what to think about what fisherman? He thought for a moment, but did not know what to answer, was troubled, he could not stay with our heads in the passenger car, his memory pureed whirling in the maelstrom of youthful memories: childhood in his grandfather's farm cold, adolescence Professional Institute of the valley alone among so many men, dreams of becoming a secretary, the first sweethearts and the rude awakening with a child in the womb ... Here

suddenly stops his memories, the time to look casually hands long time ruined by a lady, frost and the ground, turn around three times around the finger of faith and start over again with other scenes, other faces, other lamps, but in the same period of time. What he thought was not the woman, but the little girl with gray-green eyes, round cheekbones, the girl who's stuck in conjunction with the breasts (also round and strong), the girl that the whole country looked as we look at a rare beauty, the girl that everyone does not find it difficult to predict a bright future and important to a marriage.

He was starting over in another day of memories when the fisherman there suddenly came to life, she stood up to see better. The fisherman pointed boots firmly in the gravel, legs, pelvis and torso forward slightly bent back, the cane firmly in his hands. This rod is flexed to alternate movements of a few seconds, each time more, in the intervals, the fisherman picked up the thread, the drag of the reel screeched. When it seemed on the verge of breaking, shook violently and then the curve softened water and left a big trout taking a silver wriggling its tail almost on the nose with rapid lashes, but he could not escape finding the air instead of water.

At that while the skin flaky, but stretched to bursting in the spring sun reflected the light like a silver cutlery, the train jerked slowly move. The woman left her ball on the gray-trout fisherman and still vibrant with life as long as not all disappeared behind a green bush, his big hands were attached to the glass and tapered for a longer time ...

(continued)