I leave home on notes of Ludwig Van today. The sky grayed as it goes hand in hand a few times, and even the flowers the trees in my street seem more bleak.
I still do not understand how that happens: it will be a special blend of music and mood will be one of the stars, will be a factor in the economy (as economists say): the fact is that to my right opens a vortex and poof! through me a glimpse of reality appears before the feathered hat Brunello di Ser. "Hey, this young man," she smiles while leading a donkey on a dirt road to country. "Treats, Ser" I reply from my asphalt. "You go to office together?". "It will be my honor," he says subtracting the tip of the sword free newspaper that I just started reading. I let him do a little 'because I like chat on the facts of the day and a bit 'because you never know what you can combine a mad knight from another reality. "Ha! Therefore lady has run Polverina won the duel ..." begins. I do
dark. He knows how I feel, and teases me: "But you who have the right to vote, can not exercise? Here says," and point the finger on a paragraph " that half of your fellow citizens back home " . Grunt. "By chance Dama Polverina was revived by some sorcerer? It looks like a rag stuffed and painted" a picture is then contemplating. I try to change the subject: "And that donkey? The last time I wore a beautiful palfrey, Ser. He sighs, "There is a crisis, boy, you do what you can. The palfrey ate a fortune in oats and I do not even have a penny left for the tavern on the evening." "But your right, my good" then resumed inexorable "must one be attributed to abstention? O priests? A Messer Grillo? Or what?". "Look, Sir," snapped "I'm not saying that there is someone who has not voted for Bonino history of the bicycle pump !" "Well, but there is also this Messer Capezzone who spoke ill ..." "Please, I do not talk of that being." "And also, please, nominate one who still goes on hunger strike!" He enjoys, Ser Brunello, and also see some wrinkle of concern on the wide forehead. Only then did I notice the red light that leaked from his reality in my gray matter. "But it's not morning to you, Sir?" Seems surprised. "Oh?" Perhaps you are referring to the flashes fuocherecci which darkens these lands "Fuocherecci?" "A knight is in need, my good," he confides, didactic. "My office today is a village molested by a fire-breathing dragon and ribald. I already have the iron ready" and strokes his long spear secured to the saddle of the donkey. "Anyway, your King had said, to vote. Just the other party does not have heeded, it would seem." Ignore the comment and the momentum. Re? Which king? But please. Then I reflect a bit 'on: the reign of King Silvio. We have a little 'closer.
"And that a little blonde lady 'elderly? The one who gave a display of boxing skills? They voted in many " notes Ser Brunello, turning the page. "It 's typical: Italy wins that hits hard," I reply as I see salvation: the entrance to the metro. "Well, Sir, I'd arrived. Thanks for the company and good ... a dragon?" "Yeah. But I do with lance and shield I will manage it, as always. Here you, boy, it takes more" smiles under the mustache as I return all crumpled newspaper. I bowed and the final notes of the Fifth the vortex shrinks. The last words that I arrive, like a distant echo, are "Wait, I have not read those who won friends ..."
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