It happens to everyone at least once in their life, to be born. Everyone knows it, just think about it, and very few remember it. Angelo instead went further, he remembers also the source of origin. I enjoyed reading his thoughts, and since has given me permission to share it, the public rooms on my page and thank him.
Yesterday was the day of my 46th birthday. Strange that almost makes me feel to write that number, but I do not make any say or think sopra.Vuol say that more than 16,000 days of that moment in November of '63, when a blinding light of the delivery room 'forced me to the hospital in Varese first curse of my life as if it had not been enough effort that I had done up to that momento.Ho very beautiful memories of my life pre-birth: I was a sperm a bit' atypical spent his days wandering through those two quiet stations that were suspended at the very base from which to launch the huge barrel on alternate days, but more rarely, were shot out all the sperm that can be booked for great race, so they called it. I, however, I was sitting in the lounge area, leaving me dangling from the movement of the station, peering into the tail of some spermatozoina X, chatting with new arrivals in the waiting room. There were those who had tired of waiting and could not wait to throw themselves, who was fearful of what he would find out who asked me what should be done once launched. Not having any desire to launch and therefore having spent time at the station, I knew exactly what there was to know. I knew that when they began to swing dramatically and the walls above us began to turn red meant that the great gun was arming and there was little the speaker warned who was booked to travel to current positions, where it is increasing pressure would break the gate and they would be thrown up in a violent and flow disordinato.Sapevo duvuto what you would do once outside, I had said the bartender of the restaurant area with whom I spent the whole day, she was too frail to launch and then had accepted that employment that also lets you listen from time to time voices from outside noise. He had heard the cries of those who had been catapulted into the void, who lay dying on the ground or somewhere, told me that you had to have luck and a lot of strength to run and get the first "big egg". I was chatting with her boredom of those days (perhaps that is why as adults then uses the expression "that sucks", is an unconscious legacy of waiting at the station told me about the world outside of ...), and as it should be according to the information captured. And it was her with his stories to convince me that it was time to gradually groped for the great race. He said that outside there was a great excitement, they began to feel really good, came from the years when they duvuto get up a war and that he did not know what this war, but it must be something terrible. There was a person that everyone loved and who called Pope John, it seems she cared for children, and another in which the world had high expectations that living in a very away, spoke of a new frontier and rights for all, the Kennedy name. Then I finally had to be told how beautiful to be young, until then the young people dressed like their fathers and fathers were thinking like, but now they were a separate category, they had their own way of thinking, dress, communicate, and it was All joyful and full of good intentions. I was beginning to excite the idea, but it was the music that I listened to the case, which blew the cap. I asked the bartender where it comes from the wonder and she said that it was songs, coming from outside and were sung and played by four guys from England with the fringe on the forehead, all dressed the same way and did all the crazy girls: screaming and did not speak on the other, and that's how she knew all those things. I decided: I would have booked for the next race! I wanted to be there at the time, live the excitement, hear those guys play. I prepared myself for well: instead of hanging out, gym and running, until the time of the call. Came the big day, the speaker crackled the usual formuletta, position us and I immediately tried to gain the center seats in the front row, someone complained, but there I noticed, I could see the parade along the inside of the cannon to upright in front of me. Everything shuddered, up to an incredible force that pushed us from behind and began to ascend at a supersonic speed, everything was uncontrollable and suddenly we came out jumping into the void. The bartender warned me: "if you will not see the light when you jump, you lucky! From then on everything depends on you." I was lucky, no light, but still dark and twisted tunnels where elbowing and I clung to all the tails of sperm in front of me, shock and even banned some impropriety in the way, but I had to go. I realized to be in good position, I tried to keep the path clear for not slow down, I began to see me before the end of the tunnel that had to be "the big egg," inarcai shoulders and lowered his head to prepare for all ' impact, I look fierce and violent gave a knob. Poi persi i sensi e non ricordo nulla di quello che accadde dopo, mi risvegliai diversi mesi dopo mentre sotto altre sembianze ripercorrevo a senso inverso il tunnel da cui ero arrivato, era strettissimo, sentivo urla e frasi concitate, le orecchie mi si erano appiccicate e stortate tutte, avevo il naso pressato alla parete ed un espressione sofferente e stordita. Poi due mani mi presero e vidi quella luce della sala parto, mi tornarono in mente le parole della barista e pensai che ero stato sfigato così mi usci quell'imprecazione che invece fu accolta con gioia e sorrisi da tutti lì dentro, era evidente che non parlavamo la stessa lingua.E così fu per i giorni seguenti: chiedevo dei Beatles e mi cacciavano una tetta in bocca da ciucciare, domandavo della Swinging London and no one in my arm for me to sleep. So I gave up and left her clinging to some rocking shoulder looking out the window. There was the world, Kennedy had been assassinated by 5 days, John XXIII had been dead for a few months and the Beatles had just started a relentless climb. Across the sill instead of dead leaves covered the streets while the trees tinged with poetry that as each fall, cold as hell not worried about the persimmons were alone on the bare branches and even the few passers-by rushed to that in November of '63.
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