A DAY, AN AGE
1 - PURCHASE
My job forces me often for daily trips in the north Italy and not always the car as comfortable, it proves the perfect tool. Today I will leave my house with four wheels in a parking lot near the station, and the train will arrive in Bologna, where I meet people at the fair building. I have already bought tickets through the website of the railways and withdrawn a day before to find no surprises at the time of departure, missing a few minutes and I wonder how on earth will cover my time in the two and a half hour trip. Within the shop near the track that sells newspapers and small toys in a corner and find a shelf with some books.
Usually I go to buy a book in a bookstore, I like walking slowly among the shelves full, pick up the atmosphere quiet and careful, noticing that other people are doing the same thing and probably will gain a completely different text from what I will buy, but they do the same.
This time, a place where everyone goes fast, where trains stop just long enough to get you up and then off rapidly towards the goal, I adapt to the situation and take a book at random, I choose only the color orange Cover and dimensions that make it ideal for the pocket of my jacket. On track 1
wheels screeching slowing climbing the Eurostar on the rails, it's mine. I go up and seeking the seat booked, cab 3, 35 place, close the window. Just time to take off my the jacket, place it in the compartment over my head before I sit down again and again the convoy.
not often travel by train and then loiter me to observe. It 's a first-class carriage and the car is not divided into compartments but as a coach with a huge folding table in front of the chairs lined in blue, and there is a lot of people, ten people at most divided equally between the sexes, all adults, no child, no older. Before you sit down make eye contact with a distinguished gentleman a few seats from me, we exchange a silent nod, then both disappear over the high headrests. I get up to retrieve the book remained in my pocket and riaccomodo, I think the trip will be comfortable and suitable for my position at a slightly wraparound backrest.
Despite the desirability and enjoyment of the moment I can not wait to get to Bologna, and to meet customers at the fair.
2 - FACEBOOK
few days ago, one evening, my daughter asked me to see "the pictures where you used the gun", that the photographs taken during his military service twenty-six years ago. A few glossy leaflets that portray me with some comrades in the barracks of Orvieto, Aviano and Verona. I saw those shots, not without a bit 'nostalgic memories of the boys' names and portraits, however, I realized one thing: there was a photograph with this maid with whom I made friends. I remembered that we were two months in Orvieto, and then we were both intended to Verona, but in two different barracks and we lost sight of them never to meet again, as with almost all fellow naja. But what was it called? Despite the efforts I could not get me back to mind the name. Patience, I do not sorrowed much. Closes the album and you go to bed ... goodnight. That night I dreamed
fighter planes and tanks, and awoke with a start after a massive explosion ... this name Guido G.
I could not believe, that as some kind of hidden in the corner of my memory was ticked off by the smoke of a cannon. Not only that, as I remembered also the city where he came from Bologna.
What happened next is a direct consequence.
now the cone of the shot had dreamed of opening in my brain woke up completely, so at two in the morning I turned on the computer, cliccai icon with the "f" white on a blue field and I'm too busy and in the tormented world of Facebook. I found the area "friend finder" and type in that name found, appeared five contacts and one was definitely him.
The small photograph of her profile was not lying, albeit with a few more years there was no doubt that it was Guido. Now set off the friend request with a message: "5 th tranche 1983, Orvieto, six always the same "would have seen my name in the request.
I went to bed, and despite the gunfire and excitement after a quiet night.
was nearly nine o'clock in the morning when I woke up that Saturday. Coffee and fast way to the PC. Very good, Guido had accepted the friend request, but her reply message to me a bit disappointed '. It is well remembered my name but this was not my face, wow, exactly the opposite of what had happened to me.
stroke of genius and power industry; photographed a picture of that time and I sent it to him via mail. A success, the vision of the shooting opened the drawers of memory to him and the desire to meet again was mutual.
aware that I put them for a few days I would go to Bologna and determined that I would call the day before.
3 - THE BOOK
Finally I can devote to reading, but alas I find myself buying one of those useless books written by comedians on television, a collection of corny jokes that make me laugh hard. I sadly shaking our heads on the knees bent and my sight is lost beyond the window. The fog envelops the landscape and the drops condensed on the glass run in the opposite direction of the train. I'll be back to look ahead, but the blue fabric of the seat in front of me does not communicate anything. In an attempt to return to look at the cover, lowering I see your head there's something about that seat, I lean slightly over the table and ... surprise! A book. Someone has forgotten, or ... but sure, why not, it could be that strange cultural exchange plans to leave his book in a public place, anyone can take a long leave of his own: cross booking.
I would not give my book to anyone, let alone leave him on a train or in a bar. But this morning I bought something that I probably would have thrown.
I look around me and I see no evidence that suggest the presence of other passengers leaving it unattended at the moment to go elsewhere, I know, the toilet or withdrawn as yet is known on the trains.
Good. I feel entitled to the exchange. In these times of a mild pandemic viruses take precautions before handling an object that probably has been touched by many people. A bit 'of antibacterial gel in the palm of the hand, clutch well and I lean a bit' over the table. Stretch out my arms toward that unexpected gift, like a kid at Christmas, I grabbed him and sit down again on the seat assigned to me by chance.
This is a book by Roy Lewis and the title reads "The largest of the Pleistocene ape-man." I'm sure I've already heard about it but the author's name does not tell me anything, but the title reminds me of something.
I pull the BlackBerry from his jacket pocket, and I connect I type "Roy Lewis" in the search of the popular multimedia encyclopedia. The result is quite disappointing, date of birth, death and the titles of three books written. Hypertext allows me to click on the title that interests me and I find a brief description.
"The largest of the Pleistocene ape-man is a science fiction novel written by British journalist Roy Lewis, who tells the story of a group of cave dwellers in Central Africa from the late Pleistocene, their struggles to survive and evolve. But everything is presented in a humorous way, often making use of anachronisms to joke about current topics that Prehistoric transported the reader sees in Africa. " I want to read it. Start my journey.
4 - THE STAGES
The speaker compartment, although discreet, bothers me just as I am aware that the true evolution of these hominids came from when they realized the potential of fire. The train is about to enter the station of Cremona. I am traveling by train and they had to walk miles to go near a volcano to get the fire when their fire in front of the cave was dying for a distraction.
Of course this so strange, hot enough to burn if you touch him, had brought them enormous benefit, not only in physical, for they could defend themselves from the cold effectively, but also dominate the beasts that before then were the banquets of their newborns and especially overwhelm rival groups of hominids expelling them from the caves best.
When I'm going to get to Parma, I feel the smell of grilled chicken; the hominids found that the game may be cooked, flavored with spices and eaten, but also much more easily digested. And now, disappearing the inevitable gastritis, the protagonists of this book improve their mood, they become less violent, and they realize that they can take another major step towards development, look for comrades in other groups.
that speaker again. They are now in Modena and it is finished. They make their appearance the first tools, bows, and intrigues. The author tells me that hominids have evolved into something much more like us: sapiens? Do not say it, but ended his effort with a lapidary phrase:
end of the Pleistocene
as if to say, now begins the history of man.
I close the book and look at the cover smiling as if to say, I liked you, I've read in couple of hours and has already spent the Pleistocene.
This is definitely science fiction, but unlike the usual, instead of being projected into the future, turns to the past that had this great idea that Lewis. As a Catholic
which I can not accept the last allusion fine author, but I also understand that at the time of this writing it was unclear as it is now that man descended from apes of the Pleistocene. All the assumptions made in the evolutionary past have not been reflected in any link between the alleged sapiens and its predecessors.
5 - BOLOGNA
Here I come. I get off the train and I can not help but think of the massacre a few years ago, the erectus were violent, but we ...
front of the portico of the station traffic mad me back to the chaotic reality of our days and wonder which way Guido will part. A hand
check out the window of a Multiple black, say the greeting and the car stops in the only possible position to not block all the others in transit. Before they even get to mention Guido comes towards me, spreading her arms and we gather in silence in the midst of this chaos will probably see that as unlikely as a single poppy in a cornfield. I have goose bumps, I'm emotions from the time greeting someone not embracing him? I do not know and do not care, I enjoy that moment so intense and intimate in the midst of dozens of people who do not see and feel.
We decide to spend a couple of hours together based on memories. Watchkeeping duties, shooting range, people we have not seen, the barracks of Orvieto which is no longer a military barracks, divided in order, the puncture in the chest, the lieutenant bastard and so on until he notices the book sticking out from the pocket of my jacket. He asks me what it's about my answer and exclaims: "The largest of the Pleistocene ape-man, I just read." We look amazed at the coincidence and begin to make some considerations.
We evaluated how much time elapsed from the time of naja to this meeting, but both hominids and we think that much time just becomes a moment in the history of time. Our snazzy overflows from its course and we are surprised to observe the earth from above, forcing us to think that we are about six billion astronauts traveling into the unknown on the most beautiful spaceship that exists ... and there is nobody at the controls. Through us and our thirst to know, thanks to the great minds who want to understand all costs, the universe has become aware of himself and pays a huge round of applause, maybe not by everyone, but me and Guy are definitely clapping their hands.
These arguments lead us far and above all, I realize too late that, as much or little that is, time passes, the sky is already getting dark. My commitment to the fair is blown, it's time to get the train.
Again a sincere and heartfelt embrace with Guido. I went toward the entrance the station, my train is already there waiting for me. END OF THE DAY
