The city I live in is ugly, very ugly, so much so that sometimes when I look at the landscape reminds me of some verses of a song of Celentano

I wonder how people conceive to live in homes today, as canned anchovies. Born children who have already 'wrinkles. I wonder why' people do not say anything to Mr. Hyde to Dr. Jekyll, the manufacturers of such horrors without a face are the houses where the tooth buds already.

Yesterday I was walking along a "final rounds *, or rather along what was left: a street bordered by stone walls which once marked the boundaries of orchards and gardens, just a hint of what was, these steps have not ever had any hope of resisting the greed of wild quell'edilizia that rages in demolishing everything is still beautiful.

As I passed in that kind of a dead dog barked suddenly, making me scared to death.

Without quell'abbaio I probably went without seeing her; ground, hidden in the shadows, there was a woman, curled up on itself, almost invisible.

It was a beautiful young girl. I emphasize this because the beauty is quite rare in this neighborhood. She was crying, it seemed really desperate.

I curled up for his height but maintaining a certain distance to not frighten her.

- I will not bother you - I said - I just want to know if you're ok, if I do something for you. -

She looked at me straight in the eye and, with a slight smile, said:

- No thanks ... go! -

I wanted to find the words.

No not out anything.

Raises are only able to greet her with:

- Well, try not to let you break ... hello! -

And then I left.

I was really struck by the 'meeting, I felt guilty for not being able to help that person, but it is difficult to deal with the pain of others, whether caused by a love gone bad, bereavement or other.

Only later I realized that what I wanted to say to that girl, and that is that there are moments in life when you are alone, alone with your pain.

Colleagues, family, friends ... they can help, heal ... But in suffering, as in many other important occasions in life, you're alone with it 'themselves. It is in those moments that you must learn to live.

After the suffering becomes almost beautiful and acceptable.

* Passage of Ronda: space between two walls where once spent the night patrol officers. In many medieval walled city is a walkway that follows the wall

Article published by Philippe Galard on 12/09/2009 at 1:25 am in the category Articles . You can check out the comments to this entry through the feed RSS 2.0 . You can leave a response , or trackback call from your own site.