Document
003X.
Patient No.32.
Aspect-creative fiction for therapeutic purposes. Experimental method.
supervision of Dr. Linton.
text first. Protocol sheet of A4 paper. Rows 1 cm . Blue ink.
I remember the rain on the windshield. Drops as big as walnuts, and wipers that move the body of water. The country road was deserted, even though they were seven in the evening and the road was busy commuters return home. All came back from the city. Deliberately chose the path that passed secondary Sant 'Alberto and then followed the campaign, to be able to spin fast and quiet. Often at dusk you could enjoy a magnificent landscape. The adored. The sun seemed to throw up on the gold fields - I do not know how else to describe it. And sometimes, when the sky opened up huge mounds that suggested the three-dimensionality of the dome of heaven, we could swear on the existence of God that night but it was already dark and the side windows could be seen only extensive black surface. Nothing and no landscape God Only rain.
Nicholas was silent on the seat beside him. The seat belt's coming under the chin and looked straight road. I think he was trying to win his sleep to be prepared in case a rabbit or even a deer crossing the road there. That day he had to return to school and then football practice. It smelled a little 'sweat, but overall was nice. Even as a baby had the vague smell of talcum powder and feet. I always thought it should patent a scent composed of essence of a child and that a women's group aerobics leaves inside a gym. I think she will be a great scent.
filavo straight and fast that day, and it rained furiously. It is not difficult to imagine what happened. To write it seems trivial. To be honest to the end, I doubt the effectiveness of this therapy - I do not want to cause any offense, however, the eminent doctor, who followed me with perseverance and dedication and great professionalism. But if the goal is to distance myself from happening and to put the incident as a trivial episode basically and almost always, even in its tragedy, then all this is irrelevant to my current emotional state and mental. I already know this is trivial. Do not make it any less terrible. We need originality because a memory can instantly get the vomiting?
Text seconds. Protocol sheet of A4 paper. Rows 1 cm . Blue ink.
The doctor urged me to continue and conclude the story in the manner I have indicated, despite my misgivings about the method. The doctor still refused to provide details on this treatment and its alleged purpose.
However, he says.
Nicholas was silent, abandoned on the car seat. I was driving weather. The rain has always calmed me. A mood of euphoria mixed bliss. If I had to equate it to a musical composition, I would say a string quartet by Ravel.
shooting in the fifth, breaking the wall of water pouring from the sky. Sorpassai the trivium and oak. Affixed to the trunk was the depiction of a Madonna. I remember the leaves shaken by strong gusts of wind and spray that raised. I looked at Nicholas. He was drowned in the jacket one size larger. Half-closed eyes were rimmed in black. The football training was the coup de grace. He had made it flies as cream cheese.
I was proud to play football. Not because I like football. It 'a sport that I find very exciting. I can not even understand what could push a person to feel a sense of loyalty and belonging to a football team. However, I was happy that Nicholas was playing there. Reassured me think he could become a normal person. One of those who go to the stadium and can cry and cheer for their team.
Watch that there is a hare, I said.
Where?
there on the left.
Where?
Love, on the left. See the eyes?
I pointed a finger to indicate this. He reached out as much as possible to see over the dashboard, but now we had already passed the point. He said nothing and went back to relax on the seat.
Nicholas yawned. Only at the end of the yawn remembered to put his hand to his mouth. This is the last full image I have of him.
I smiled and said: Come to bed early tonight. You hungry?
horn. A van which I had not noticed. I was frightened and ruotai the steering wheel to the right, to get as close as possible to the dock. The pull was too strong and the car skidded. I heard the sound of tires on the water. Horn extended. The van skidded, with the wheels bent to the left.
The impact I pulled the ribs from the body. The seat belt I sawed my neck and my head exploded against the dashboard with a tremendous shock. The wind came from the void left by the broken windscreen and blew on his face. My body trembled helplessly, following the movement of the car out of control. It took a while 'because everything stops.
My head was bent. Labored to keep a cool head. I was breathing heavily. I heard something metallic creak for a rocking motion. I lost consciousness.
I opened my eyes. Barely breathing. I tried to move but could not. I had forgotten how to send the message from the brain to the muscles. Slammed eyelids and they fell by shards of glass. I was still inside the machine. The airbag was not activated, still can not say why. I was staring like a camera at the foot of the seat of Nicholas. I did not see anything of him. I tried to move his head. Still lost consciousness.
opened my eyes. In the distance the sound of sirens. Thank goodness someone had called for help. I called Nicholas. There was no answer. I was not allowed to look anything other than the mat at the foot of the seat. I was afraid I would faint if I even moved. The rain continued to fall, I hear the ticking on the roof.
Nicholas, I called. Nicholas speaks.
The sirens grew louder.
breathed deeply. I could not even conceive of my position. It was as if I had something abstract, without a body and weightless. Thunder rumbled.
Nicholas, said.
still did not feel bad. Neither fear nor regret.
soon go home, I said.
When rescue arrived, sirens and lights illuminate the inside of the machine. I breathed with difficulty and wait for a free us. What are available on a stretcher and that I communicate the conditions of Nicholas. I began to feel ill. I thought of Ilaria. I wondered what could be angry with me.
I heard the excited voices of rescuers and doors that closed. I noticed something on the pad. He grew up the ribs and back hurt. In an attempt to focus the object I had in front of me was a terrible pain in my head. I made out a lock of hair. Smooth and thin. End was attached a piece of bloody flesh and bone.
soon go home, I said. We will go home.
Rescuers pointed at the lights inside the machine. I could not take my eyes off the lock that once clung to her head.
soon go home, I said crying.
I detach the seat belt. The chest pain became unbearable and I cried. When they put me on the stretcher, still screaming. But this time the name of Nicholas.
nothing more I can or want to remember.
The moment the last moment and that yawning occurs to cover your mouth, is the last full image I have of him. But if I think about my baby, what you see is only a tuft of hair clinging to a fragment of bone.
document preserved in the archives of the study psychiatric hospital in St. Orsola, Bologna.
Contact Dr. Linton.
***
He put his fork to his mouth and chewed slowly spinach. Ilaria, sitting with his elbow resting on the table and hold hands with his face, waiting for him to finish eating in order to clear the table. They felt only the clock and the sound of him chewing. A gray light filtering through the window.
He put down his fork on the empty plate. He filled his glass of water and drank. Ilaria got up, took the dishes and carried them to sink. The man decided to sneak some walnut before getting up and helping his wife. Once you eat lunch every Sunday home of her parents and eventually they had to rearrange the kitchen, not the parents. Then they used to go out and go to the town square. Cross a few friends, talk about this and that. Things like that.
A bird outside to let out a rusty. He could not indicate which species of bird had produced. He turned to Ilaria for questions, but he saw her bent over the sink. She trembled, shaken by sobs. Often burst into tears without giving any notice. He got up, picked up towels and cheese rinds scattered over the table and went to throw them in the trash. Once you have made the collection, not anymore. It was one of many habits that they had lost. Water continued to roar from the tap a spoon clinking inside a cup. Ilaria there cared. He kept his eyes closed and clutching his nose with two fingers.
The man left the kitchen. He put on his coat and went out into the porch. He felt the cold sting the skin when you cross the threshold. He took the packet of cigarettes from his pocket and put it in a mouth. He lit it and inhaled the first breath with closed eyes, as if enjoying a good wine. He leaned his elbows on the parapet and watched the trees beyond the neighbor's yard. The leafy tops danced driven by a light wind. She covered her neck with the jacket. A baby cried out from somewhere. That shitty day.
threw the ashes in the garden below the balustrade. He returned to watch the trees that stood out from the gray sky on a uniform. Created smoke rings from his mouth, trying to get us into the image of a branch of the linden. It was a difficult task, but was increasingly refining the technique. Once he had managed to quit smoking, just before the conception of Nicholas. He had started over three years. You could say that his smoking had to be always coincided with the absence of the child. One night, while on the veranda of the bracket that was made in solitude, he was asked if Nicholas would be able to return if he stopped smoking.
's door Ilaria veranda opened, and appeared wrapped in sweater. Her eyes were red. He sat on the top step and lit a cigarette. Sniffed, then he cleaned it with the back of the hand.
You seem angry with me, "she said after a while '.
looked straight ahead. She was beautiful. He wore a tuft of hair behind her ear. The two earrings sparkled from the lobe, reflecting the pale sunlight. His skin was clear and almost translucent. A dog barked at the neighbors passing by. After the man had gone quite, the dog stopped. The dog barked at every holy time of day.
crying, he said.
Ilaria continued to pull up his nose and dropped the ashes in the middle of the foot.
Yes, I cried, she said. And what is the problem?
I can not.
You can not forbid me to cry.
you do not forbid it.
Ilaria wiped a tear on her cheek.
Shit, "he said.
barely repressed a gasp, then dipped her head in her arms crossed and remained so for a while '.
He had almost finished his cigarette. Needless to point out that just came out not to see it cry. At least they were talking about. He tapped his foot to the rhythm of music that does not exist, then turned and leaned back on the parapet. He looked at the beams above him and the cobwebs that united as wireless carriers architecture.
I think you continue to give me the blame, he said. Ilaria not budge. She burst into tears out of nowhere and give me back. It 's the way you accuse me.
Did not I ever said.
But it's like me saying the same.
not true, "she said. He always kept his head buried in her arms.
Admit it. Be honest with yourself at least.
Fuck Mattia.
He remained silent. He heard the crackling of burning tobacco and the taste of plastic towards the end. He threw the cigarette over the steps and it rolled to a stop on the sidewalk in a hole.
pity you when you do that, "he said. He would not be so dismissive, but could not avoid it.
not say a thing like that or kill me.
But that's what I think.
I'm not accusing you Matt, I'm not accusing you of anything.
He had to get back into the house.
Are you that you feel guilty, she said, before he shut the door behind him.
***
Title: European folklore and legends. Traditions of a continent.
Author: Adam Kerenjui.
Edition: Bompianti & co.
Publication Year: 1998
[...]
In the calendar of Coligny, as previously written, there is a solar-lunar calculation, a detailed calculation aimed at structuring the reconciliation of two different frequency with the minimum. The reason lies in the need to respond both to agricultural needs - vacation time - that those rituals - lunar time. For further details, see the References (Appendix II, Part III literature, theory texts astroarcheologica).
The year was divided into two parts:
- Geimhredh. Winter weather, which lies at the start date of November 1.
- Samradh. Summer weather. The start date is May 1.
The agricultural year coincided with the onset of winter weather, celebrated by the community as the Trinuxtion Saimon. In Ireland, they called it Samhain, the Isle of Man instead Sauin; Samonios Celtic in other provinces of northern Italy and France.
the eve of the festival (October 31) was the highlight of the community, the most sanctified, and, in some respects, even the most feared. We not only material interests converged (collection and storage of food for the winter, livestock selection, awareness of future economic insecurity, seed), but also spiritual interests, designed to dispel fears and to sublimate the psychological tensions of the community. Samhain suggested in the collective images of cosmic recycling, degeneration, and finally at the end of archetypal death.
[...]
As shown by A. Brelich and folklorist A. Van Gennep, each party is seeing a reversal of values \u200b\u200band social norms, customs and habits. The reason lies in the nature of religious holidays, perceived as a time beyond time, a foundation the exact moment of time itself. Samhain meets all these requirements. The normal time is suspended and open a hole in the veil separating the worlds, the so-called gate of the sidhe, the Annwn, brings the spirit. The size of land and ultraterrestrial lose their boundaries and overlap. The dark world of the underworld, the world of memories and ancestors, falls precipitously on earth, swooping to the world of men. During the period of Samhain, the dead walk among the living and living is no longer safe.
[...]
During this night the living honor the dead by offering them food, not to incur the wrath of the ancestors back from the grave. They prepared a seat at the table and in most community members were forbidden to eat the food intended for ' Embassy of the dead. In some regions, some people were designated to represent the dead and eat the food as ritual. In this way the reconciliation took place between the living and the family lost returning to their homes.
All the fires were extinguished prior to symbolize the dark period, and were subsequently reactivated by the sole drawing sacred fire, fed with the bones of slaughtered animals (animals that they would not hold the weight of winter). In this way, the renewal was dramatized, bringing it to consciousness and symbolic of the community.
[...]
***
What is bullshit?
For you my things are always crap.
I was the first to propose it, how would you know?
I see your face.
Mine is a worried face, Ilaria.
A face that says it's bullshit.
No. A face that says, worried.
Concerned about what?
We suffered a lot Ila. I do not want to risk, that's all.
What's to risk?
Disappointment? I do not want to go back to those moments. We should ... we should ... I do not know, I do not know shit.
I do not understand Matt.
He will not return, either that night or ever.
Matt, give me your hand.
What?
Give me your hand.
... He is not coming back, love. It is not anyone's fault, it was fate that would go well, right?
you do is say so. If this is so obvious, why do you keep repeating it?
Mattia ...
Sorry. Sorry, I'm nervous.
Give me your hand.
Mmmh co 'is fucking hand.
He will not return. But it will always be with us. We love each other and together give us strength. Ok?
... I know it will come back. And it's not a game, not just a Halloween. I just want to say hello. We can not forget it, but we can say goodbye.
do not need all this to say goodbye. Can you talk about when you want, in bed, the toilet, everywhere.
You never tell us about him?
... We can talk at any time, but this is a way to do it together. Grimaldo says he can do well in both.
do not know ... I do not trust much of your analyst.
Do you trust me?
What does that I trust you?
factor.
Can I give my hand now?
No. I want you to know that there'll be okay.
right.
's just a dinner between us. There'll be okay.
right.
Nothing.
***
They had hardly touched food, and had spent most of the time outside on the porch. They pretended to have both wanted to being outdoors, even if it was so cold that froze fingers and ears. He smoked his sixth cigarette of the evening and Ilaria had not yet told you not to overdo it. Far away, on the road, a group of children took off with shouts and shrieks. One was wearing a sheet with two holes for eyes, another was dressed as Scarecrow. The most audacious pirate skeleton with a three-cornered hat on his head. Who wanted to be grotesque masks. Each carried a bag. It seemed that they had scraped together well. That fucking dog barked course as soon as the children approached and stopped their chatter when they no longer felt.
If we were closer to the road would be safe, "said Ilaria.
Yeah.
Too bad they do not pass.
Why, I prepared sweets and cakes?
No.
And then it's better that way.
You're right. Ilaria breathed on his hands, then slipped back into the pockets of his jacket.
They were silent for a while '. It was ten something. The bells had already played half an hour.
Fa 'very cold, "she said.
Mh mh.
When you finish a cigarette we go home?
There was a window open. The proximity of the house in front leaned over the windowsill to close the shutters. When he saw them greeted them with a wave of his hand. Ilaria replied with the same sign, he only smiled.
Come on, I'm done, "he said. He put out the butt in the ashtray.
At the table they said word for a while. The silence between them had reached the size of habit. But he felt that they had to say something as to restore normalcy. The point was that it had nothing to say.
Ilaria sported a half smile, as if to convince himself that the dinner was a great idea. He stared purees left in the pot, carefully avoiding looking at the third place ready. The food in the third dish was not to be touched. The ritual involved as well. That was the mashed Nicholas and just for him. Nicholas went crazy for mashed potatoes, like Nutella or camomile.
Ilaria took the fork in his mouth and took a piece of chicken. Chewed it slowly, reluctantly. He played with mashed potatoes, lifting up a spoon and then let it fall into the pot. Plof, did.
what we do tomorrow? Ilaria said.
do not know. What do you do?
certainly want to rest. Then we go to the cemetery?
Okay.
We could also go to the movies. It 'been so long since we go to the cinema.
not do anything.
Make the new Woody Allen.
Oh yeah?
Yes
I had not noticed.
have made two more of Woody Allen that we lost.
I have not even noticed them.
The bells rang eleven strokes. They were listening to them all, carefully. He lifted a spoonful of mashed potatoes. Plof, mimed with his lips.
I'm tired.
Me too.
But first I want to start a fire.
Before what?
go to bed. I'm tired, I go to bed. She smiled. He too smiled.
Okay, he said.
stay in the wood had already been arranged for the ignition. Ilaria bent down and placed in the middle of a symbolic pile of chicken drumstick that had eaten for dinner.
You know, women were having to turn on the stove at home. Have you read?
Yes, I read when I had spent the book, but I did not remember more.
The lit with the bones of slaughtered animals. Ilaria firelighter broke off a piece and put it under the pile. Make sure the vent was open, and then got up and went into the kitchen. He stared at the mouth of the chimney. She could not wait to finish that day.
Ilaria returned holding a sheet of newspaper rolled up and the lighter. He sighed. I'm going?
How do you prefer.
you think is necessary to say something?
do not know.
But do you think?
I have no idea, I said.
Say something.
I do not know what to say.
Whatever.
He thought about. He looked at the slippers, then looked at her. Ilaria's face was really tired. She had been out all day with his mother, had not understand what to do. Was watching him, her lips pursed in a smile struggled. Ilaria there really was putting the whole.
He lowered his head and expressed the hope that the fire could release them from all that.
From all this, he whispered.
said no more. Ilaria approached and shook his arm. He lit the end of the sheet of paper and placed it near the firelighter. The finest woods and soon caught fire crackled and blazed even larger pieces. They stood watching the flames and heat below the fire, until she came up and kissed him on the cheek.
'm much happier than before, you know.
He said nothing, staring at the tongues of fire and stir peak. She stroked his head.
I go to bed, he said.
Okay.
What are you doing?
still have a little 'here.
What do the dishes in the kitchen? she asked.
do not know. What should we do?
Mh ...
A piece of wood fell, a hovering swarm of sparks.
Let's do this, she said, take away our dishes and leave to - his.
Okay.
Then we're going to throw the remains in the country tomorrow.
Okay.
Good night.
Ilaria Good night.
I love you.
Me too.
was left alone in the living room. The fire had reached such a height that the heat of the burned face. Ilaria heard in the bathroom preparing for bed. He heard then turn off the light switch and close the bedroom door.
from tools for the fireplace and picked up a piece of iron with this widened a bit 'the logs, to lower the flames that had erupted with force in the meantime. Listened to the crackle of the fireplace. The heat was intense, he felt the skin of the face crumple and burn the sweater.
He shot the stroke of half.
position the protective screen in front of the fireplace and went tidying up the kitchen. He put everything into the dishwasher, threw out the leftovers in the garbage. Also cleaned the sink and stove. He found nothing more to do and sat on the side of the table uncluttered.
Eleven-forty-two. She put her hair back and stared at a corner of the chair. The boiler behind the door was a buzz that sometimes escalated. He turned to look at the empty seat at his right hand, remained intact. From the edge of the plate protruded the end of a chicken leg. The cutlery was perfectly aligned with the edge of the towel and perfectly parallel. The still water that filled half the glass suggested the idea of \u200b\u200btotal aphonia. He looked the clock on the microwave. The eleven forty-seven.
was sleepy, but do not want to go to bed. To get under the covers would be a final action and he did not want any kind of final action. He tried to hear the distant sound of people or cars on the road, but do not identify any external sound. He scratched his ear lobe and tried not to think about anything. He was not difficult. He had learned to do after the death of Nicholas. Took refuge in the emptiness devoid of thoughts or concepts, to escape the remorse or remembrance. He had much to do during the day if you do not keep the house in order, so do not think of anything he had become a necessity. Ilaria advised him to get a job, but there was no economic need and in addition to writing he could not do anything else.
drummed his fingers on the table.
He shot the first solemn tolling.
midnight. He followed the second, then third. When he reached the twelfth, after which the echo was consumed, there remained nothing but the hum of the boiler. He looked up from the table. Nicholas was sitting in front.
***
fixed. The boiler was still buzzing like a fly dying. The wooden planks snap and looked like someone was walking on the roof, but it was just the house he breathed. The child sat composed, with a quiet expression on his face. He wore the jacket one size larger. Each button was closed.
He tried to get up, then changed his mind and sat down again. Are you?
The boy nodded. Every hair was combed, each clump in order. It was all whole, no missing pieces.
... Oh ... You're back?
Tonight, I have to go away.
had the same voice. The man reached out to touch her son lying on the table, but the child withdrew. You can not
touch me.
Why can not I touch you?
do not know, but you can not.
I do not want to hurt.
The child looked at him angrily, as if he had not understood. He had huge eyes and brown hair. Can I eat?
He looked at the dish again son. Sure you can. Sure.
The boy smiled and skipped excitedly on the spot. Grab a spoon and dug in mashed potatoes. He began to eat, always composed and very polite.
You hungry?
The boy nodded. Her mouth full.
He smiled and wiped her tears. He had not noticed star crying. She put her hands on her cheeks and stretched her face. She watched him eat and mess up the chin of the yellow puree.
It 's a dream? he murmured.
Nicholas did not hear him. He showed great interest in food. He put the spoon on the plate with both hands and grabbed his glass and took a long drink. He put the glass in front of the plate and belched.
Sorry, I hastened to say.
The man opened his mouth to say something but not knowing what, shut it. Could not take eyes from her blond hair. When he was alive he always called the little prince.
I do not want you to die, he said.
The child hesitated for a moment with a fork in hand, as if in thought, then began to eat.
I swear Nicholas. I would die a thousand times I'd rather. If I could die for you back, oh Christ. He put his hands to his mouth and remained so for a while '.
The child took a little to clean up the pot. He left the bones of chicken on the tablecloth, shiny and thin, arranged in regular rows. Finally picked up the plate and began to lick it with some effort. The only rest when no longer had to have been no taste. He wiped his lips and chin with a napkin, folded it and repositioned it as he had found. He did the same with the glass, cutlery and the platter. Made sure that the spoon and fork were exactly parallel. He turned to his father, giving himself satisfied on the back. She smiled. Now seemed calmer.
I really hungry, he said.
little I've seen, I've seen.
Dad?
He wiped his nose and tears with his hand. He could not stop them. Tell me, "he said. Tell me, darling.
I did not feel bad you know.
Nicholas Christ ...
I know you did not want it, Dad. It 'was an accident, I know you wanted me all the best in the world.
I'm sorry, "he said. Burst into tears and could not help. Back to Nicholas, come back here.
No Dad, do not be afraid, because I'm not angry. Dad really, really, I'm not angry.
had to wait until the crisis passes by to talk. So he could not.
Dad, remember when you broke the castle, even if you were just kidding?
His father nodded. Yes rubbed his eyes burning with the salt.
we were playing and you did you fell over? said Nicholas.
The father smiled. Yes, he said.
I was so angry but I was laughing too.
... I want you to come here.
The child, however, looked at him as if he had not understood. Dad?
Tell me ...
For me it is. I laugh at the incident as a fool when you fall on the castle.
I can not ...
Think car. Look what you have been so stupid! Nicholas laughed, with that loud sound at the end that characterized his laughter a bit 'forced.
I would love to hug you, "he said.
You can not touch me daddy.
only once.
You can not ...
I would die.
The child was followed with the finger the length of the handle of the fork touched the metal teeth, then back down again. If you die you can not remember in this world and I can not eat mashed potatoes, he said.
The man did not answer.
not dying father. Remember me.
His father nodded, silent. The boy looked around. He studied the kitchen, shelves, stove. He returned to follow the contour of a fork with a fingertip. Dad?
Yes
my regards to the mother?
Yes, darling, anything you want.
promise that the idiots from the river as it once was?
Promised.
Those that you gave when it was his birthday, then when she laughed so much that he put his arm in the cake?
Promised.
You do really?
I swear, I will.
Nicholas sighed and shrugged his shoulders. Now you must go to sleep. If you do not go, I can not even go away.
not want you to go.
But I have to. Please dad, otherwise I will have so much pain in my head to explode.
I can not ...
Daddy I'm afraid to feel bad, please.
not nothing will happen to you ...
not true, you do not know.
He stayed silent. With the sleeve of her sweater her tears falling on the table. Wool Sweater not absorbed and left a strip of wet marble. He looked at the child.
Okay darling. I'm going to sleep, he said.
Thank you, "said relieved. When you go out you never have to turn around.
Okay.
The boy smiled.
When should I go?
Now.
Right now?
The boy nodded.
We can not wait a while '?
The boy shook his head.
His father sighed. Go well, he said.
She bit her lip, wet with tears. Slowly he got up. Stepped back and walked to the door. Never took his eyes from the child, as not to miss any time. Where are you okay? churches.
Where am I not as important as you are. I do not even know how I am, "he said.
I want you all the best in the world.
Me too Dad.
The father was about to leave, but turned again and waved. He saw Nicholas sat composed, wrapped in the green jacket largest of its size. The infant smiled and raised his hand to greet him. The light from the chandelier created golden blond hair. The color of wheat, as the little prince.
through the door and turned the corner of the corridor.
walked in the shadows. He said he did not turn around. For the sake of Nicholas said that he was going back. If repeated it several times, while the tears kept falling. He lingered at the door of the room, her hand resting on the handle. He opened the door and entered. He sat under the covers and the mattress took a bit frozen 'to heat up. Ilaria breathed deeply. He kept his eyes wide pointed to the ceiling, listening to the beat of his heart. He saw the swirling darkness for some strange optical effect, as if sprinkled with stars. He tried to formulate a few thoughts, any one, but could not. The ticking of the clock was not with the regularity of breathing Ilaria, were scanned with two different speeds.
Ilaria? she whispered.
you are not aroused.
Ilaria? whispered louder.
her breathing stopped. Mhh? muttered.
He approached her.
What is it? she asked.
He touched her forehead and stroked her hair. Then he raised, leaning on his elbow, and head gave those stupid kisses.
She grinned. Fuck you, "he said.
