Gianna has ruined the small face of age, a hoarse voice and a smile alcohol.
arrived to find the same table, because you're not the ocean to choose the table but the table you choose.
He asks me where I am and how old I am, I do in Pisa. The usual play.
He asks me if I smoke and I do not smoke I say good, otherwise you end up like me. I say that ocean between smoking and not smoking is not much difference, she nods and lights a cigarette.
I speak a little 'me. It will be the beer that you will be able to listen. I say a few things, those right. She realizes it.
"You know how old I am?" He says. "Fifty-five, and I have a son your age."
"making a living?"
"working in a restaurant in Riccione. She has a son with his girlfriend and live together "
takes the phone and shows me the photo of her nephew.
"beautiful"
He puts the phone in your pocket and continue to smoke.
"want something to drink?"
"no worries"
"force, might be my son, what you take"
"beer is good"
Order a beer at one of the girls behind the counter. Then comes one of the maghreb routine of the place.
He puts a hand on her shoulder and whispers something. She smiles and gives him a slap on the hand as he walks away laughing.
"why are you here alone?"
"I could ask you the same thing"
"do not have a girlfriend?"
"no"
"why?"
"why should I have it?"
"you're young"
"I do not see the link"
"someone who loves you not?"
"doubt"
comes the beer.
"you have boredom in your eyes, boy. You lack the desire "
I drink beer. There is a lot of foam. I remain between the whiskers, I wipe with one hand.
"you know what I do before going to the factory, boy? I go to the balcony and watered my plants. They are delicate, I take care of the everyday. "
I look at it.
"find your roots, man. Are profound. Keep them alive. "
He rises.
"If later you need a ride call Find me,"
smile. She goes to the corner before the bath where they are sitting the maghreb to say something and start laughing. I finish my beer. Greeting ocean, I press play and I lock myself in the coat.
Jeff Buckley takes me back home, under a rain almost non-existent.
picture Flavio Q. www.flickr.com/photos/16962049 @ N05 /
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