Ti invio breve racconto del 2008. fa parte di un intero libro di racconti,
legati tra loro da una serie di personaggi. questo è uno dei più brevi. nasce
dall'esperienza zen, che a sua volta è nata dall'esperienza dello iaido.
SESTO RACCONTO APPARENTE
La signora col cappello cercò di raggiungere il luogo dell’appuntamento, ma le
case erano completamente diverse dall’ultima volta e c’erano rotonde dove prima
sorgevano rassicuranti semafori. La signora aveva un cappellino grigio, con una
fascia di fiori rossi. Pensava a quando tutto era più riconoscibile e
decifrabile: gli uomini, le donne, i sentimenti, il deserto, la montagna, la
metafora. Tutto più decifrabile. Ma ora, ora c’era quella nebbia, che avvolgeva
tutto, e nessuno sembrava accorgersene. Il passato had lived in a puff
and present him as he was dragging a dead weight, which did not know what to do with
. But really everything was going to end? Tomorrow really were so few
now? Really there was no hope of redemption? The word redemption
the like, she was always the church, engaged in all oratory
afternoons when he was twelve years old. But now the church was no longer
that. There was only superficial and envy and a lot of new things, which
did not like.
Marjorie leaned over the railing of the bridge. The river was slow,
tethered by debris and neglect. The woman thought that flying was beautiful,
that even as a child wanted to do so with great difficulty lifted one leg, pulling up her skirt
that prevented movement. He soon
astride the parapet, there was no one on deck, all out for the weekend, a word he hated
. The woman with the hat he tried to remember who he met shortly before
. Had in mind the figure of a boy and a dog.
He dropped down, thinking to be a leaf, and indeed, while
approached the surface of the water, began to feel slightly light
like a leaf, and had become conscious of being a leaf, a small leaf
who knows sprint da dove.
L’acqua lenta del fiume l’accolse, la portò con sé e Marjorie finalmente poté
raggiungere il mare, che non aveva mai visto.
Di Alessandro Quesada
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