Di Aurelia Merola
I pull the blankets away. It's a new day. I hear a rustle beyond my small window and as if I am hypnotized, I walk in the wake of the call. I peek ... I look out: there is a dove and a pigeon. They greet me by flapping the wings they use daily to distribute energy and freedom. Lucky them! They run, chase each other, squabble. Now I'm here in front of me, now I'm on my window sill, now on my neighbor's balcony, now on the roof and now ... now I don't see them anymore! I am nestled here between these four fixtures and they are there, in a serene world that I can only imagine.
I'm relaxing; they started singing harmoniously and the ink slips on these white lines. As I write, I have my second mother next to me, my inspiring, imposing, protector and loving: my mountain.
Here, it is 15:00, the bells ring and as the sound becomes increasingly faint, I hear the water of the fountain in the square flowing in a peaceful atmosphere, perhaps a little too much.
Here, my friends return. The dove seems to whisper in my ear that a strange world without humans is strange, we lowered the volume of the world as suddenly as when in summer we listened to Lucio Dalla and in order not to disturb the neighborhood, we lowered until it went out. I feel like this. I feel caged in a radio; who knows how bad the voice of Pavarotti or the Pooh was when we turned off the radio because I had to deal with other things ...
I hear footsteps. He is a passerby, perhaps some restless soul. He speaks for himself: "It's like a war, worse." He stamps his feet on the ground. Nobody hears it. The rumble returns to itself and vanishes.
From the Quarantine Diary section: