Partners
For the first time in two months-plus, I write from home. Are almost 8 in the morning and before getting into bed, I entertain myself by writing something that perhaps should have written in the hotel. To me, these minutes before going to sleep are the best of the day: After pedaling for ten or fifteen minutes, during which I meet with an unchanging display of characters (that one day, by the way, I will devote an entry), arrived at the gate of the house of my sister and me on the bike. The first recipient is Sita, with his usual nervousness and their unconditional surrender, to take every minute that you can enjoy quiet outside the home. On the street everything is quiet, although a few are beginning to detect sounds that foreshadow the beginning of the day, is like a giant stretching, finding the strength to face the morning. I, on the contrary, I'm done with my duties and, after instructing the dog to re-enter and close the gate, I go quietly to my room and trying to be careful, I deposit my two backpacks on the floor and Wear pajamas. After the windows are the first voices heard, cars that start, hurried footsteps, and believe it or not, roosters announcing the sunrise. At such times, to lay up my shirt after removing the greater in a bucket of water and fabric softener is one of the largest and most ridiculously tiny pleasures that can come to experience, feel the fresh air in the arms, breathing the tranquility of environment and observe the city still sleeps creates a sense of calm and hope hardly comparable. And then, of course, the breakfast, which my sister is with me with such enthusiasm as crusting, and where the plays are discussed our respective nights. Never missing the conversation and, while we devoured the grain, joins the ever-present morning show, not by repetitive and familiar, it is less funny at that time. Finally, close my eyes as I pass the pages of a book, lying in bed and waiting for the new day bring me know things that the previous one left in the room.
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