Friday night.
quite demanding work week behind.
The weekend approaching, with its cargo of blacks hated clouds after a thousand suns glimpsed in flashes from the windows of that cube filled air and artificial light in which we move from Monday to Friday, leaving only and strictly in dark also, as urban vampires.
have time to think a little, 'you wait for dinner time.
It is a moment pretend to be nostalgic.
When I was at university (which attack, per se ', reveals the manner of an aged ), I was surrounded by people who repeated as a prayer, during exam periods, phrases like "I can not wait to finish," "when work is completely different, once you go out six without worries," and so on. I always thought they were crazy but, of course, I was not eager to have it confirmed.
In the meantime, and ages, one season after another (skipping the half, which no longer exist and with a view to the current, not to get chilled to the bone then you drag it through the winter), "and suddenly start to lose hair around and I saw my twins combed still equal the same" there is a long time to imagine that, slowly, it is becoming a little old.
I write these lines not to share this incredible early midlife crisis, but to try to justify why you find me, for about a week, a phosphorescent green rubber bracelet on your wrist right. They are called Silly Banz (though maybe it is not original), are of many different colors and, above all, forms. Oh yes, because their characteristic is that, once removed, they recreate the shape of an object, an animal, a means of transport.
When I was young I (I know, I exaggerate, but to create more atmosphere) we still think Brazilian good luck with those bracelets of string. "Love? Money? Friendship? Hope? Peace? Freedom? Luck? Everything?" - Propose the most troubling as the August sun (which were valid accomplices), unlikely to umbrellas walking the beaches or in the streets invaded by tourists. There are still, I know, but become overwhelmed by the frantic world around them, are a bit 'sad and anachronistic, like a Vasco Rossi, who played the good guy after a dissolute life by alleged rocker.
Now, however, to dominate the scene think about these principals colored rubber bands, a standard among teenagers (it seems that Berlusconi even have one!) And on the whole, quite enjoyable.
There is a very special taste in pretending to still be children of the medium, in the middle of that vast target industry from which, willy-nilly, with twenty years comes out a bit 'on tiptoe.
Mine only regret, on the table, it becomes a plane. Military junta! I like to think that might be what will that tamarro Gaddafi's far from the country that is killing a day after another right before our eyes a little 'powerless.
I found the box of fruit juices. Since then, I confess a bit 'embarrassed, I'm drinking them one after another, sometimes almost reluctantly.
Tomorrow is Saturday. And on Saturday, you know, is a day of shopping and I can not wait to put others in your cart, hidden by her mother.
