Less than an hour ago I was on 310. Back from a nice evening drink with some "colleagues" in the laboratory. People who do not know much time, but to which I am already so fond of. A close-knit group. Some of the few people with whom I can really be as they are. A little 'gossip business, Chief World Systems, bullshit. A lineup of classic aperitif.
Outside the city in his capacity as night was at his best though. A pleasant warmth warming my skin, and a slightly different kind of warmth warmed me inside.
How beautiful the moment, greeted friends, one is a little 'alone, to sum up the evening.
And I had a thought, a wish. I thought it would be awesome to see, like a Lynch film, the 'buses no longer stop. In that 'empty bus, I could, and wanted to stay forever, forever ago, this beautiful city forever, forever coming back from a lovely evening, forever the warmth inside and out.
I came to think that after all this is the core of melancholy: the desire and the attempt to expand the moments, combined with the knowledge that it is impossible. Forever
evening, the 'bus that travels somewhere, the lights like sentinels along the way, a good memory to be relived. And 'this melancholy.
PS: I always hated blogs pesantoni, teenage gender, especially if the holder of the blog teenager should not be for some year or so. I wish I had the lightness of Valeria (although when she does not feel this lightness), the quiet objectivity of Artemisia, the vis humor of Mark, the couple Unodicinque awareness (which now calls itself Seneca52, and generates a bit of confusion), but we have to do, give birth only after pesantoni: D!
PPS: Throw above and the fact that I was listening I'm Pezzoni, go ...
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