di Magda De Luca
Risvegliarsi altrove
‘Svegliati che è tardi, perdi l’autobus stavolta non sprecare questa possibilità…’
Canticchio camminando con passo spedito, sto rischiando di perdere il treno.
‘Potrebbe essere un segno del destino’. Penso beffarda. E’ il 21 marzo: il primo giorno di primavera. L’aria è dolce e il cielo azzurro mi infonde una strana consapevolezza. Sono euphoric, I am moving for work. I took the decision after months of sleepless nights to explore the pros and cons. Arrive at the station just in time, I get on the train to my place. I look around at this hour of the morning the car was full of commuters. Phone ring tones in the background and discussions of work. Get a book from her bag and I try to read a few lines. I can not, I find it hard to concentrate. The euphoria has turned into a slight uneasiness. 'A last-minute afterthought?' I wonder puzzled. I am leaving behind a number of unresolved issues. It has become my specialty. 'Four transfers in eight years'. Quips. Every time is like awakening from a dream and start from scratch, retaining, however, latent feelings, ready to surface in unexpected places. I begin to fantasize about what promises to me, how to decorate the house just rented it, the people with whom I will share the new location. I calm down, turn on your MP3 player, close my eyes and starts to sing 'Being lost today only takes a few moments ...'
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