[from Behind Blue Prat, 17.11.2009]
Si alza e si volta, si avvicina lentamente al letto e sorride al micio, lo spalma sul plaid e gli regala un paio di carezze ben somministrate, ne ride. Poi torna al computer e pensa che, sì, potrebbe anche scrivere qualcosa dopo tanto tempo, anche se gli manca l’impulso (ma d’altronde non è forse questa l’essenza di un esperimento?).
L’ora di filosofia a scuola quel giorno era particolarmente soffocante: fuori era già maggio e il prof continuava ad urlare qualcosa su Hegel che gran parte della classe aveva già rinunciato a capire da un pezzo. Il prof non urlava per rabbia, il prof urlava e basta, era la sua appassionata maniera di fare lezione; was not as irritating as it may seem. The lesson he cared little, but pretended to have it imported, so will have had to be there to do something in class. The main character, I say, not the prof. He, the protagonist, his eye was oscillating in a fairly regular basis by the three lights that imprisoned the spring outside of the building up to her dark brown hair, a little 'toys, a little' playing to speculate on the fiction that his brain elaborated by the minute, and he stubbornly persisted in seeing how their immediate future. Of course, once finished Hegel and all his trouble with his conscience about the French Revolution, would not have occurred none of the idyllic scenes that bounced off the revelers from the cerebellum to the temporal area, but he was perfectly successful in the difficult enterprise of this largely under-consideration. That day, indeed, ended as such with many others, this was not a bad thing, of course, but it was not and was not the point. The point is, and discovers him turning back to the cat, irresistibly drawn by the silvery cloak, that neither the time nor the many other times, he remembered that he never even had the inkling of what path his life would take in future, and not even the next. This makes him laugh a bit, 'and some' does also feel superior to everyone - There are many, and even then there were many - they waste half their time to plan and think about what will become large, or even just a few years.
And a little 'instead makes him sad to think of being like a dry leaf floating on a lazy puddle, without the slightest idea of \u200b\u200bwhat to do once the water has dried.
L’ora di filosofia a scuola quel giorno era particolarmente soffocante: fuori era già maggio e il prof continuava ad urlare qualcosa su Hegel che gran parte della classe aveva già rinunciato a capire da un pezzo. Il prof non urlava per rabbia, il prof urlava e basta, era la sua appassionata maniera di fare lezione; was not as irritating as it may seem. The lesson he cared little, but pretended to have it imported, so will have had to be there to do something in class. The main character, I say, not the prof. He, the protagonist, his eye was oscillating in a fairly regular basis by the three lights that imprisoned the spring outside of the building up to her dark brown hair, a little 'toys, a little' playing to speculate on the fiction that his brain elaborated by the minute, and he stubbornly persisted in seeing how their immediate future. Of course, once finished Hegel and all his trouble with his conscience about the French Revolution, would not have occurred none of the idyllic scenes that bounced off the revelers from the cerebellum to the temporal area, but he was perfectly successful in the difficult enterprise of this largely under-consideration. That day, indeed, ended as such with many others, this was not a bad thing, of course, but it was not and was not the point. The point is, and discovers him turning back to the cat, irresistibly drawn by the silvery cloak, that neither the time nor the many other times, he remembered that he never even had the inkling of what path his life would take in future, and not even the next. This makes him laugh a bit, 'and some' does also feel superior to everyone - There are many, and even then there were many - they waste half their time to plan and think about what will become large, or even just a few years.
And a little 'instead makes him sad to think of being like a dry leaf floating on a lazy puddle, without the slightest idea of \u200b\u200bwhat to do once the water has dried.
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