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CINQUE AGOSTO 2010 (a cavallo dell’Appennino granducale):
un giorno “poietico” e una notte poetica.
Il giorno: poiesi e flashback.
La “lussureggiante estate marradese” ha delle cadute autumn.
Today I was in Florence on a scooter and I wore long pants and jacket and the fresh air has accompanied me as far as Via Tornabuoni. Only about noon I felt a bit 'of warmth on him.
After various committees and meetings, I left early in the afternoon under a storm that has darkened the whole city and the puddles cut from the traffic I was often flooded the legs between the fortress and Freedom Square. A
Ronta I saw the pace of glue dominated and partly covered by black clouds and the cool morning temperature has become almost the month of November: I felt cold in my legs and arms, so I wore a second jacket.
I stopped at source Alpe water I drank down one's throat seemed less fresh than usual. After the pass the sky above the valley of the Lamone appeared dominant in the blue spotted with white clouds.
the curve of my scooter Cencioni the thermometer marks 13 °: generally in this period and this time (about 17) it is very hot here too, at least 30 degrees, my hands hurt from the cold and would need a couple of gloves. After
curve Cencioni triggered the flashback and go with the memory to 1979 I was in professional training in Vicenza and I was following the Trust area (the one in the bank grants loans to companies and is the highest aspiration of the young bank), the my destination official future was already decided by the Directorate General as a specialist in the foreign sector. A bad (or good) day I was given a practice of trust to set up and submit it to complete the signature of the Director, who then, in a branch as important as Vicenza, there scary as God Almighty, especially "that director!
The practice of trust was committed twice rejected by the Director (by adjusting Oscar Wilde: inexperience, the name we give to our mistakes!). At the third delivery, I was called by the Director and sbiancai not only I but also my neighbors, someone muttered - likely to be expelled from training -.
I went into that room and the Director of nightmares fantozziani sat me down and gave me his hand - are welcome and she is Marradi - - Yes Mr. Director, I apologize for all these errors of analysis, comments and suggestions, but I never developed a practice of trust before that -, - errors are less serious than they think, because she took the key aspects of this' company, the form is acquired through experience. If he were willing to change specification, I propose to include it in the Directorate General Trust -.
in front of my stunned silence, dr. Welcome me another question: - you know the curve Cencioni? - - Mr. Director, I will be fine because we passed hundreds of times -
- Well Cencioni was my grandfather because I'm Borgo -. **
the night: the poetry of lightning and clouds ....
I am a bit 'try your stay in Florence, but happy to have dinner with the family.
After coffee and grappa, Viprati load the pipe and sit on the terrace. The darkness is early tonight, because I dragged behind the clouds Florence: they are immersed in complete darkness. While
rekindles the pipe for the third time ("a vrai Fumer it rallume jamais sa pipe" means you are not a real pipe smoker, although the use of 30 years), branched lightning illuminates the sky and the clouds rising from the bowl of my Viprati. Below is a grumpy thunder and a wave of wind shakes the house of birch and walnut.
The wind stresses and the thunderbolts of Zeus repeat closer to the zenith, the loud and deafening thunder now, then come back a bit 'of calm that allows me to hear the sound of the lips, intent to regulate the draft in the pipe. The respite is brief thunder and lightning, are lined up from east to west, the wind continues, the trees sway in all directions and the rain comes the storm. The light from the lightning and 4 sounds (thunder, wind, rain and lips) become the time "very upset" of a symphony without an author, but Vivaldi, Rossini and Beethoven would think even those who are not interested in "classical" music. Rain non cade, ma sbatte contro i muri, sulla strada, fra le chiome e sui tronchi. Il piazzale è già allagato, la strada sta diventando un torrente, i lampi affievoliscono, i tuoni ora si sentono oltre i crinali. Riprende più forte il vento, la pioggia cessa repentina com’è arrivata; sto terminando la carica di tabacco dopo un’oretta di tiri e nuvolette. Mi appoggio alla ringhiera per scaricare la cenere della pipa e noto sull’orizzonte uno squarcio di cielo sereno blu plumbeo: lo spazio libero da nubi è dominato dalla costellazione dello Scorpione e al centro brilla la stella di prima grandezza Antares: la notte di San Lorenzo è vicina.
VAAP (Antonio)
** Ringraziai il dr. Benvenuti per la sua generosa proposta, ma continuai il corso di addestramento, specializzandomi nel settore estero.
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