That evening we both had been drinking a little too much. Maybe even two. They had to be passed when I put the 3 in a hurry my papers and my books inside the bag, I paid the bill and walked out from the wine bar. I do not even realized he had left more than ten euro tip.
We went to that place because I needed a meeting, a clarification and understanding. She had agreed, as always, and had followed me like a shadow up to the little known but very popular tavern. I had not even need to ask for confirmation and I ordered two glasses of Falanghina. A group of twentysomethings from the air snob obviously prepared to take a round of absinthe, with small glasses ready on the counter after the quick combustion. A guy on my right quaff a stout, alternating with short sips of Polish vodka cherry and cursing in a language that I recognized to be Portuguese. I should not seem too strange, then crossing the room with two glasses of white wine between his fingers. Always choose a small table near the entrance, so as to facilitate the numerous outputs to smoke cigarettes. Or maybe he chose her, I do not remember. The particular element of that place was the music. Predictable and non-classical jazz, which by the way I loved how my life, but electronic music very well selected. In this place the ancient and modern meet in a way that I can not explain without becoming verbose.
She had not expressed until then, too focused on jazz-quell'electro so refined as blasphemous to the ears of some purists. I also listened and sipped wine. I looked around. I looked around. Watered my narcissism curarmene but without much, as I was so taken by some personal obsessions. We went outside to smoke their first cigarette, because I was hoping that a little 'of nicotine to help me with concentration. On the narrow stairs, other people talking and smoking near the door. I smoked without talking about setting three-quarters of a clouded moon. She seemed quiet waiting to see where I wanted to end up, I put forward. Back below, taken from my bag that I used to work in a notebook of sketches and notes, a wallet with some prints of documents beaten the computer and some hand-written letters with red ink. It was a collection of material written by me and a woman who had loved in a happy time in my life. Letters, notes on interesting conversations, drawings made at the time, listened to records and recommended and even messages sent by mobile phone. I thought it would be like with the sequences of a movie with quiet concern after it was shot, being able to linger with a point of view more 'objective' about things escaped the previous visions. I had to relate the movie to see if I could girarne a new or burn the film and I had to start all over again the same script. It 'obvious that she was demanding whether they regarded the film as an unedifying, not to forget, but rather to pass it without delay. He began to talk to me like a raging torrent; of a Suddenly I was surprised at how far the silence before his monologue. After I read each sentence and as new parts were added to the memories then flown over, you make matters worse. I was already on his second glass of white and we were fourth in practice. I could hardly hold back my tears, realizing how much the situation had gone out of my control, and the same as all the glory had not been removed by me after all this time, but had continued to flow under the skin, enriching the fantasies created by ' failing that, by distance, by doubt. You would have to help me in all this chaos within. I think they want his opinion, of being able to accept the objectivity that I have always recognized, but those tears Falanghina deleted and the third made me realize that I could not hear it. I did not want, even if I could. And this marvel to see me upset, convinced he wants to put to rest, I made my blood boil and plunge in a chronic state of catatonia. Now his 'Shoot out' and his 'forget' the mingled sound of glasses, cutlery, laughter. I knew it was because he loved me, why he was there to save me, but my reasons, I feel stronger, even though, paradoxically, much less stable. I had always learned to trust my instincts when I was convinced, and I had always gone well.
Contemplating neon on the sign of a brand of beer, I jumped up and placed all my things in the bag. I waved to one of the barmen and left the money in the account on the table, without waiting to rest and receive the ticket. She followed me like a cloud of words around the head. I started to shout at him, climbing the stairs, and ask her to leave me alone and go away. People who saw me out on the street looked with puzzled looks. 'Please, stop, shut up'. the repeated whining like a hysterical. 'Where were you when I needed you? Eh? Reply! ' Add after each claim or request for silence. She screamed words that seemed to insult, but not lost, as was I was doing, the calm. I was exhausted, tired, disappointed, I ran away to pee, I had a headache and the world around me had decided to rotate around me. Spectacular manifestation of my ego. I lay down next to a fountain with a large bath and large illuminated statues now scroll left hours squirt water from their perfect shapes of the Hellenes. So was my body that I seemed to start spinning in the background property of a plaza paved with stone and visceral fears. She was going to attack me again, when I got up on his legs and began to chase it around the edge of the tub. He was able, or perhaps imagined to succeed, and to grasp began a violent confrontation. For each shot infertole I felt more tired and I could see less, I felt terrible pangs of body and my mouth was dripping with blood and saliva alcohol.
I pushed her into the water. Only a few tens of centimeters deep, but they were enough to fill his mortal body of water and resentment.
Thus ammazzai my conscience.
And so I took off my life that night I had drunk a glass too. Maybe even two.
Listening: That Night (Wahoo Mix) - Jazzanova
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