"It's raining the silence between us, I want to talk but you walk away." The song is a crescendo of wailing harmonics. I smile, I think of when I was a kid and I was sitting here at the same table that was covered by the same oilcloth tablecloth in front of the same radio with this tape that played and played endlessly. So puffed and replaced the music with something of mine. It was good anything, including Metallica, just to express my disagreement with another era.
"You can stay here, eat and then tell me."
jolt. He rolls his eyes and cough a piece of apple.
"I must go. I'd love to stay ... "I hasten to add," But Mark is waiting for me ... "
actually at home waiting for me there are a couple of unresolved issues, my husband with a long snout and a few practice that I bring to the office tomorrow morning. It does not matter, I am a bit 'stiff and will not tolerate being disturbed my plans.
"Ah, youth ..."
"we remain, but I have to work."
The grandmother does not mind what I just said, rests on the table two dishes, glasses and cutlery for preparing two. Then he goes back on the stove and the fire under the pots. He has so many pots on the gas, more than it holds me in my apartment.
"So while you wait for yourself and for your husband. So bring it home to dinner ready. "
This is not a bad idea ... I earn time. Time is most precious possession, there is nothing that attracts me as the idea of \u200b\u200bsaving it. To secure a few minutes of rest assured it is becoming the goal of my life, slow down the pace at which everything rolls away from my thirty years and so you have time at my leisure.
I look at the narrow shoulders of my grandmother and have followed his long, bony hands, I stop for a moment to watch his slippers are worn. It is always the same. My eyes perceive the same for a lifetime, perhaps misled by the fact that she always wears the same clothes.
The blue sweater with button-shaped white pearls she's wearing now wearing the same for my birthday ten years, when my parents gave me a new bike. Sublime idea for a girl who compiei years in December. I waited months to be able to show off. I fear that my relationship with the passage of time has cracked on that occasion.
My thoughts are interrupted by a high-pitched trill pierces the silence. The doorbell intercom sounds harsh, I think the only glimmer in the darkness of medieval technology where I am.
Continued ...
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