A HAND IN THE FOG

                                                                          XXIII

Sometimes the phrases arrive before the concrete idea.

Sometimes write phrases or have a thinking seems to be just words on a paper or random ideas.

And the Future blinks for demonstrate that it is not absolutely blind.

She was in the end of the afternoon – after hours and hours working with no time to lunch or to drink water. It was one of those hard days that the Universe must help the brain and the body to be alive at the end of the day.

But – job is job and must be well done. She did her best – as always. The day was cloudy and a little bit cold. A so soft rain made her feel a little bit quiet.  In some moment before left the room – she looked out of the window behind her. Suddenly – and without understand why exactly – some specific memories came so fast.  It seems just if the memories were there just waiting for the moment that she would finish her job. Or just waiting the free time that she would look at the window – as a play.

Who knows how strong can be a memory.

She remembered the Island – la Grande Nave Veloce and the dark blue sea – and also the Castle. The beautiful Castle they were together and the tourism that they did by bike in that so far city.

She almost could see his face when the lady opened the door of the Castle’s suite. She could see his smile – he knew she was amazed.

Then came the bike’s memory. The bike was white.  It was winter and she was with a black coat. She almost could hear his advice: so many time without drive a bike you will have so much pain in your legs tomorrow.

She had no pain. And they laughed and enjoyed together her safe legs.

Both memories came together – even separated by the time. She smiled – a new discovered. The memory doesn’t care the time – or the space separated for the time.  She could feel all the good sensations on her skin. And a surprise about those memories: in one it was in the summer and the other it was in the winter. And both came together – almost in front of her eyes – like a movie in third dimension: a film inside a film inside a film.

Memory is so simple: or it is good or it is bad – can hurt or can caress.

The geography or climate is just part of the scenery – but not the protagonist.

She smiled – the branches may be in any direction – to receive sun or to be in shadow – but the root is only one.

This is memory.

And at that so fast moment – the memory brought the caress.  It was a fragment of the time – but the sensation it was like a lightning – and the thunder echoed inside her.  For half a second she tried to understand why she looked at the window and those memories came. But she knew that the answer – perhaps – would come later.

She turned her head – closed the door and went away from the job.

But a little bit before close the door – she looked again out of the window. And felt so warmish and said the word – yes.

She thanked because only her was still in the job at that so late hour – someone could listen this – yes – for the window and make terrible judgments about her health mind.

She smiled.

The time. Yes the Time. It always makes its own play.

In the sequential moments the answers arrived.  A message came. I will be with you during 20 days – I will land in the early morning. We will enjoy the parties together. I bought just now the flight tickets.

She stopped the car to read the message again – and again – and again – with calm. Probably calm it was not the right word – her behavior after the message was very far for being described as calm.

She couldn’t believe. He would come.

They would be together again. Another time was coming with smiles and pleasure. And he made as always – a surprise. Then she realized why the memory of the Castle and the Island came a few minutes ago. Why an almost hallucination came suddenly. Why the time and the climate were mixed in only one root.

Fantastic.

She came back inside her self because of a horn. She stopped the car in front of a garage and the poor man wanted to get out and waited for her finishes the – one hundred times – lecture of the message. For sure he was a so polite man – or maybe he thought she was a crazy woman and was fearfully careful. He was a wise man.

She looked at him as just had awake – excused smiling – and went away back home.

After the message – she didn’t want to do anything. She didn’t want to work or to write. She just wanted to lie begging for time pass quickly – faster than the time of his flight.

And began to organize – first her self and then the meeting.

The meeting was easy to organize – but inside her self for days and days all was in state of happy celebration.

To be concentrated that always was so instantaneously deep – for now it was a job harder than the job itself. Many moments during the day she made the check in and checkout and sequential count of the days.

It was funny – first because she smiled from herself. Second because – when she told him – he also smiled from herself. There were two persons – smiling for the same person – her.

Molto divertente.

One night she woke up suddenly in the middle of the night – frightened because an horrible storm. The strong thunder and lightning seemed be almost into her ear. In an attempt to calm down she wrote a message for him – maybe it is not the end of the World but maybe the end of this City. I am writing just to say – yes I pretend you are here close to me and I hold your hand.

She looked at the calendar he had given her and that was on the table: today lack less than yesterday. Soon he would be in fact close to her.

She concluded that if the Future is not blind – it is not also myopic.

And she nevermore repeated that phrase.

A HAND IN THE FOG

XXII

It was afternoon.

She just came back from her hard job. All home was in silence. And she was mute.

Maybe for all her life she was mute and in silence – of course until the concert’s evening.

She began to organize her next day while waited for his call. Every night he called her. She was there listening music and just waiting for him. She loved this.

Separating clothes and papers she remembered the evening in the park – when she saw his hand disappearing in the fog. She remembered the book. She remembered the first time she saw his landscape.

She didn’t know if the Life is constructed by metaphors or if the metaphors construct the Life. Not an existential problem, but a no-solution problem. It doesn’t matter if one or another situation happened in fact – if someone thought – it was happened.

So much time has passed since their last meeting.

She remembered how was difficult to come back. Say goodbye to him it was one of the most cruel moments that she had to live. But she made a big effort to be – or to seem – strong. He hugged her also sad and almost ordered – do not make any effort to pretend be strong – I know exactly what you are feeling.

He was sure.

She began to remember the trip when they were sat at the airport. Remember sometimes helps – because put the Present cloudy. She learned this when she said goodbye to the dark blue sea and thanked also it companion. Gratefully. But in that moment she needed really for help. Memories. Smells. Photos.

They were hugged and in front of the board way – he kissed her. And she went to the plane.  Remembering that hard moment – alone – she suffered with the same pain of that moment when they said farewell. Before cross the corner – she looked back. He was there saying goodbye. A kiss.

And her first poem came back inside his mind – again.

I cry for your absent hands/ I cry for your present back/ I cry for the clothes on the hanger/ useless and meager/ I feel the warmth of the tear/ that run down calm/ disguised/ slow. I cry to know I am.

The truth was in the last line.

At this time she thought in that poem by the end to the beginning.

I cry to know I am / disguised slow / that run down calm / I feel the warmth of the tear / useless and meager / I cry for the clothes on the hanger / I cry for your present back / I cry for your absent hands.

The truth was in the last line.

The volcano. The dark blue sea. The cockroach. Each detail had a space in her memories. His shirt hanged on a bC ruins after washed because of an act of a pigeon. Her smiles and laughs. His jokes. His smiles. His decided style to cross the streets. His elegant style in the restaurants. They lost on the maze road.

During fifteen days she had to decide nothing. For the first time in her life she had absolutely all the confidence in a Man.
He decided all really perfect. He decided all that he knew she would love and celebrate. Above all – or below all – he knew her deeply.

She knew him discreetly. She decoded him – but of course didn’t want to be invasive. She knew that he hated be questioned or pushed against a wall. He appreciated the noise when the noise did not disturb. She smiled. This was his right description: personal philosophy.

A part of him was in silence inside himself – and he just broke the silence or perhaps the muteness when he felt that could share. She enjoyed and loved his elegant way and style.

One morning he made one of his jokes. Please – can you write my biography – it would be sensational – I would be described as a perfect person.

And she answered so calm – but you are perfect person. And both laughed. The morning began – as she usual said when they were together. All the mornings woke up with smiles and smells.

For days and weeks – after came back to her routine – she felt some different – as she was not landed. She was there. Or better – she knew she was not there – she wanted to be there. And the line of the desire and the reality seemed be deleted. Or clouded. And she understood the true meaning of missing – or the true meaning of distance. A confused sensation that made her feels as in a limbic space.

For days and weeks when she walked she looked at her feet to understand the space – to understand the place. She went on trying to be strong and to live the Present – as the Present needed to be lived.

And it was – at that time – the feet that made her come back inside her again. Once a long time ago – she recorded – that were the arms that made this same job. But it was a Past of the Past – a long time ago.

So it is true – the body sometimes helps the mind. She concluded and blinked to her image at the mirror in front of the place she used to talk with him. Va bene. She wrote a short message to him – the words and the numbers are similar when the account is correct.

Suddenly she heard the recognized noise. She jumped fast – It was he calling her. She smiled happy looking at her feet – and landed – for a while.

Outside the window – it was dark. The night became to close the day and the memories. And they became to talk as the Geography was nothing. Nine thousands, nine hundreds and forty-three kilometers were cloudy – for a while.

Thank you Universe.

But – the Future sometimes can be myopic but never blind.

A HAND IN THE FOG

XXI

She didn’t remember how many times in that fifteen days she said thank you and the name of the dark blue sea!

Countless. Several times. Sometimes thank you Universe, many times thank you to him. And the name of the dark blue sea each every corner when she could see the sea circulating the little and beautiful cities.

The ruins, the temples, the food, the wine, the history, the churches, the ice creams, the forum… by all and for all she said thank you. And in the moments that he touched her so soft – she said thank you for the Life.

He smiled after every thank you and after the name of the dark blue sea.

It was delicious to watch his joyful smiles. After all that happened – his smile it was the best gift to her – a wonderful pleasure. She enjoyed his smiles like it was the first smile in the beginning of the Life.

All the evenings – after the delicious dinner with delicious wine – they walked back to the hotel. And they sat in some square close to the sea – and smocked cigars. And they talked about themselves or their memories.  The night covered the colors but the city ​​lights drew the salty aroma rising by walled that circumvented the squares. At each new city – more surprises and joyness. Only the sound of her voice repeating the several thank you and the name of the dark blue sea was the same.

They smiled and laughed from everything. They enjoyed the casual and the programmed.

But it was unbelievable the last night in one of the cities.

After the fantastic restaurant and the delicious food and the perfect wine they went to the square to smoke the cigar.  After all and full of a warmish sensation they come back hugged at the hotel. Inside the beautiful room – she decided to charge the cell phone battery.

In seconds a slight explosion left them in the dark. A short circuit put out the room. She screamed and laughed. And laughed.

It was a wonderful hotel – all starry and they were in a gorgeous room and in front of such dark blue sea. And she almost exploded all the stars. He was so pragmatical and within few moments they were in another room that the manager organized to help them.

But it was not enough for that night.

When she was on the corridor between the bed and the toilet of the new room with many lights on – she screamed again. A scream that all the opera composers would have loved – deified.

At this time it was not because an electrical short circuit. At this time she screamed without a laugh.

He knew her style and understood that something really tragic was happening.

He jumped off the bed so fast. Beside her he understood immediately – worst than a big circuit.

Calmly a cockroach without absolutely care screams or any kind of circuits – walked. Just walked.

It was a dance much faster than a tango could be – and of course much more efficient. Legs went to the right place. She jumped on the bed and he jumped on the cockroach.

And with this isolated pas-de-deux – it was killed the calm cockroach instantly – that died probably without any time to understand the line between a ride and a death. A Shakespearian cockroach – at the end all is silence.

And never a tango was so well appreciated.

He was as always – if you want we can get out now from here to another hotel. But she said no – the killer made a good job and all was finished.

And they smiled together – laughed. After an almost fire – a murder in the middle of the night. It was perfect for the style of the island.

And the rest of the night was celebrated with the dance of the legs and different of the volcano – they were mute but not in silence.

In the next morning very early they went to another city of the Island.

What a wonderful place. She was sure that it was the most beautiful place all over the Planet.

That was a really unforgettable trip.

When they went back to La Grande Nave Veloce – she began realized a new list of difference. Yes. Veloce.

If in the beginning it was a philosophy – now it was a hard and iced word. All was so fast. The ship skirted on the way back the small islands.

She looked it cutting the waves as the cut that she felt in her heart.  She was happy and sad.

And she understood that when memories began to work it is because the reality is changing. Or then when much more memories come – farther is the reality. Look back makes the Present cloudy. And many other sensations came to her very fast – much larger and faster than La Grande Nave Veloce. And a kind of grip caused an immense pain in the heart and shared with the bones as a sensation of a rheumatic disease – all hurt and all was particularized.

She looked sadly when said good bye to the dark blue sea.

They went back to his beautiful bedroom. It would be their last night together after the fifiteen nights.

The Future sometimes can be myopic – but never blind.

A HAND IN THE FOG

XX

When she saw the ship – she was surprised. Beautiful. And a wonderful name was written on the white hull of the ship: La Grande Nave Veloce.

She thought immediately: a Philosophy.

The trip began. For fifteen days they’d be together in many kinds of trip.

The part outside it was well planned for him – all and each detail.

The part inside they’d build together – all and each detail.

Looking at the sea – with all that dark blue – she almost cried. It was unbelievable that situations like that could really happen. All began with a concert – and they were there – inside of La Grande Nave Veloce with the sea by witness. Another kind of concert – the sweet sound of the little waves when the ship cuts it – seemed like a chanson.

The sea was calm. Soft. The sky was so blue. They will be there for about twenty-one hours – so fast she thought. After these hours – they’d travel around the Island on his car. It was his idea – I know you love travel in the opened car. Come on – we will put it into the ship and make our trip with our opened car.

She smiled happy.

And that was done.

When they landed on the Island – the sun was perfect. The roads around the blue dark sea were like a film. The green of the grape farms finished when the sea began. Or vice versa. The smell was delicious.

The sun and the wind on her body made her feel a so special energy. He smiled because she repeated several times the same: she repeated the name of the sea. It was funny. But she needed this. It was like say and listen her own voice put her inside the reality and also a way to believe that she was there.

After the first day – she was tan. Immediately. Another skin seemed born – like her soul. Happiness it was the name of the change. Happiness.

Many amazed situations happened.

She never would forget the day that they were lost into a maze of little roads. She was surprised – and loved be lost. Many farms. It was a wonderful road and nobody – just his car and at that moment with Bach by witness.

The silence outside was a partner.

She took off the shirt and with the arms up for the sky she said – thank you Universe. And they laughed a lot – a delicious and particular moment.

After two or three hours they found the right way. She thought: again another Philosophy.

On the right road he pointed to the left side and said to her – look at that mountain – it is the volcano.

If she could list the specials feelings of that trip – she’d put the magician of the volcano as a most surprised point.

She said so much touched – I want to go there. So this volcano exists. It was not only a story from a book. It was not only a part of school lessons.

He was partner.

They went to the top of the volcano a part by car and a part by cable car.

After some minutes – finally – her feet where on the black ash of the top of the volcano. The cold wind antagonized the past hot of the black ash. The sound was different – silence but not mute. The nature exploded with beautiful yellow flowers between the black rocks and the lava. The craters made almost a nature trademark. There was a magician mix of so much colors and so much energy. She never felt a sensation like that. It was some between sleep and wake – so much intensity inside and around her. On the top of the volcano she could see the city and the blue dark sea at the end of the view.

Thank you Universe.

And the retina and the skin were together to make all her body and soul – enormously sensitive.

She held his hand. He smiled.

Unforgettable.

She was different when she went down from the top of the volcano. Feel all that energy that comes inside the Earth is so much strong.

She sat inside the cable car – to begin the descent back – in front of him.

Behind him it was the second beautiful landscape – the city and the sea.

Behind her it was the volcano.

She held his hand.

Looking and feeling the volcano she understood the Life and the Planet. She understood the fine line between the strong and the weak. She understood the lost and the gains. She understood the courage and the pusillanimity. She understood about the fire and the void. She understood all about all – looking at the yellow flowers growing among rocks and craters.

And maybe for the first time in her life she was proud of herself.

He held her hand – as if he was read her mind – and with a so low voice he said yes. And kissed and hugged her.

Perfect.

A HAND IN THE FOG

XIX

She remembered the description before go.

“Since the moment she began to separate objects to the suitcase to go – she could see like a background scenario – his face in the airport at the moment at the meeting. She could feel his hands on her. She could relax in his hug so strong and soft. She could feel the delicious smell of his kiss. They would talk about trivialities on the way to get the car – but with the arms touching and hands by hands. She would look at his face and would smile so happy. And during the journey from the airport to home – the joy of being together again was expressed in caresses on the skin – as if to make sure of reality.

He would put the suitcase into the car and after on a delicate chair into the beautiful bedroom.”

And it was if she could see the future.

They were together.

When they hug each other – she felt that each meeting was a different meeting but also a similar meeting. Only the love sensation permits such ambiguity of the emotions – she was sure of this.

She was happy.

With a smile and opened arms he was there waiting for her – like a poem where the rhyme was done without precaution or metrics – but a real rhyme.

He took her picture coming into the exit door from the airport as a joke. A ludic action – and hug her. Delicious meeting. They made a silence for a while and she could feel so warmish in his arms. And her breath became calm. And his hands support her.

They were together.

She knew that she could never describe exactly that feeling. Impossible. Feeling is much more an act than someone can suspect. It’s an inside act – and for inside acts the words are not necessary or even be feed for grammatical rules. That’s the moment when a word or thousand words – didn’t reach to say anything.

She discovered – a moment after – some about words. Words are worth than mathematics. Numbers can multiply, add, divide or decrease and translate correctly. But words need absence to be present. And almost smiling – she discovered why she hated numbers. The numbers showed her the fragility of the words.

The act of a meeting – much more deep than all the words in any language could describe or translate – is constructed in some else moment that is not clear. Maybe in a moment when both were not close – or in a moment that just the hand or the eye made the perfect movement. And this inside act was constructed in slumber of the consciousness. Beautiful.

She was touched.

He was holding.

He was touched.

She was holding.

They were together.

And they went home like she had previously drawn.

If the languages can’t translate, the bodies can decode. She just was not right if the opposite works also but it didn’t care. Ecco li: cioè la presenza in assenza cancellata e dimenticata!

She smiled trying to make a joke or revenge to the – at this moment – abandoned words.

The sound of their smiles, their voices inside his walls, the music, the smell, the noise outside – all these so soft details put her in state of calm. But she didn’t tell him – just was close to him, touching his hair and kissing him with so much pleasure. A lot.

And she finally understood herself through his skin.

They were together.

When she went to sleep in that first night together after so many time separated – in the dark of the bedroom she turned her head many times in the night to see him.

With the hand – touched softly many times his body.

Moving her body close to his body she could feel the warmth of his breath. And there was not one only of these movements that he had not “answered” the touch and the movements to be close.

She smiled in the silence of the dark of the bedroom.

Yes. They were together.

Looking through the window she saw the thin crescent moon. She knew that in the first night of the full moon – they would be separated again. And moved her body so closer to his body.

But much more would happen in front of the crescent moon in that first night together – after so long time separated.

In the morning – very early – he woke up and called her name. She smiled remembering the first time of all the time. In the beginning of the beginning he made the same – called her name. At that time she was thanked – she had forgotten who was she in fact.

Of course so much changed in her mind – she went on trying to identify her self. She was sure that she was being rebuilding – in general or in details her style of Life was changing day by day.

She learned much more about the Past in this Present time. With him the Past was first well naked – and after well dressed – and sent to the right place. Fantastic.

And the Present – they were together.

She hugged him and said – yes. He smiled.

A HAND IN THE FOG

XVIII

She stopped for few minutes all the organization and looked at the floor.

It was as if the time had turned ago. She didn’t understand why – but the memory brought an image or a situation from her past so objectively.

She remembered one night – so many years ago – when she still lived there.

On that distant night she was alone in the living room and looked at the floor as a glance.  It was a hard time and she became to write poems. Many. Only poems. All free time she wrote poems.  When she suddenly looked at the floor in a moment she stopped to write – it was almost a big insight. On the floor many papers where fall down. Many. She saw all the papers with the poems that she wrote – maybe a way to survive – on the floor.  She smiled sadly and thought: maybe is me there.  She remembered that for some minutes she was paralyzed just looking at the papers with her poems – but she didn’t move. After all she decided to stop writing and went to sleep.  Sometimes an insight needs more dark and silence than light and sounds to solve or understand what the senses bring.  Only in the morning she picked up the papers and stuffed in a drawer. And they were there for years.

Many years passed away.

Life changed. She changed. Time changed.

The feelings changed. The smile changed.

And a fog and a hand came after a musical and a concert.

Now she was looking at the floor of the new home.

It was night – she was alone.

She was very excited with the trip. Next week they would be together and a new time would begin. So many hours inside a plane – but she didn’t care. Much more than hours would wait for her. She was quite sure about this. In the first meetings was as if they were tight encounters. Now it was different – they felt a sequence after they were separated like an hifen. It was a delicious sensation – because they know each other and the style of thinking and act of each other – with intimacy. That was the moment she looked at the floor and remembered the past – when she saw all on the floor waiting for a space – gifts – clothes.  She smiled. In the past the papers with poems – like her – had an important Time but not an important space.  Now looking at the things on the floor she knew that the things – like her – had an important space but the Time – at this situation – it was not numerically evaluable. It was true – all changed inside her – as should be the real changes.

At this time she had a new and pleasant insight. And at this time she didn’t want to sleep.

She discovered that much more than clothes a suitcase carries dreams.

And of course – different dreams when goes – from the dreams when come back.  Since the moment she began to separate objects to the suitcase to go – she could see like a background scenario – his face in the airport at the moment at the meeting. She could feel his hands on her. She could relax in his hug so strong and soft. She could feel the delicious smell of his kiss. They would talk about trivialities on the way to get the car – but with the arms touching and hands by hands. She would look at his face and would smile so happy. And during the journey from the airport to home – the joy of being together again was expressed in caresses on the skin – as if to make sure of reality.

He would put the suitcase into the car and after on a delicate chair into the beautiful bedroom.

An open suitcase not still organized – seems as if the suitcase was a rehearsal of an orchestra – isolated sounds trying to make a symphony. Each shirt or each sandal looked for the partnership to compose the correct combination.  It was funny. It could happen in the beginning – because after they were together the values changed fast. Nothing could be more incorrect. She doesn’t care – he doesn’t care. Clothes and shoes could not be found in the middle of a sudden mess – only their desires and happiness were in the right and correct way.  The rest – it was just the rest.

And finally they would be together once more. And the beautiful bedroom would be the true image of the meeting.

She learned one new more lesson – there is a huge difference between dream and fantasy. Dreams become in reality most of the time. Fantasy – never.  Dreams are for sharing – and can not be changed. Fantasy is selfish – it is just for one person – the other is just a complement – and can be changed.

Delicious Time. Delicious Life.

At this time she apologized to the Universe and said – thank you Reality.

A HAND IN THE FOG

XVII

That was the first time they would be without talk for some days.

Nine days.

She tried to make jokes with her self to decrease the feeling of lack.

Nine days. A woman waits nine months. A whale waits twelve months. And the nine days seemed so fast. But of course she was not pregnant and she was not a whale.

She was just waiting for nine days.

It was so easy.

No. It was not so easy.

She remembered their beginning. And she was surprised. It was in the same month and they were nine days without talk.

And she remembered when he came back and wrote a message: good morning. She never more forgot that morning. She felt a huge happiness.

But now it was different.

She missed him so hard. But pretending being a caring lady she said to him in the last day they talked – do not worry. Please, do what you have to do and we can talk later – when you come back. Have fun and enjoy.

A lady.

But after nine minutes they didn’t talk – she became to miss him. But – more but – she knew that he needed that time, he had so much problems and it was a time for him and his self. Perfect.

Perfect in theory.

No. Perfect. She remembered one of her phrases – we know when we love a person because the level of selfish is low.

It is true. It was true. She missed him but she asked for nothing. She just would wait for the nine days.

She had her own life, her hard job, unread books. Of course all together would make the time fly away. Much better than a whale, poor whale that had only the ocean and nothing more to do. And must wait for twelve months.

So many philosophies came to share with her the missing. Time is inside the time. Time is private. If you think in the future – the future stopped to exists and just the present exists. Maybe something similar – it didn’t matter.

The important it was be calm and wait.

Be calm and wait – what a terrible pair. But she obeyed this authoritarian partnership and went on with the days in the same style that the days went on with her. She complied the routine as if the routine was a theatrical script. And she tried to be a wonderful actress.

During the hard job – in the first day of the missing – she listened a sound. A message.

The message came from him. Less than 24 hours. She was happy like a child. She was completely happy.

I tried to remember you the coffee time and a pause in the job – but there was no connection – I miss you my love.

She read several times the message. She smiled to the cell phone as if the cell phone was a close friend. And during all the day she received so many messages from him. And she made jokes inside the script she invented to help her and her missing – maybe the land of the ice made him miss warm and love and hot skin. Or the land of the ice burned his heart.

From that day on – the land of the ice was elected her preferred country.

She smiled to her close friend cell phone and looked at the calendar.

They would meet each other in few days. Exactly nine days from that day.

She smiled again. The next trip together it would be to a hot place – an island.

They would be together in the island for nine days.

She looked at the clock: nine pm.

Better sleep earlier.

In the middle of the night she woke up suddenly. Something awoke her.

A dream.

She dreamed that she was inside a maze. The maze it was in her job. She tried to go to her room but she could not get out of the maze. Many stairs with obstacles prevented her to continuing. There were many men working and blocking the stairs. Some men were lowered repairing the stairs while either standing gave the orders. She slipped in narrow spaces trying to pass. Just she was there – the only and lonely woman – trying to get out going down the stairs. She stopped for a while and looked trough a window in the middle of the maze. She saw – in the opposite side – the place she wanted to go and decided – to get out I must go up the stairs. And she didn’t wait – and went up fast.

Awaked – she smiled alone. If she had a glass of wine – she would toast the Universe and the unconscious. It was a perfect and simple resume not only about the nine days but – of course – about all her Life.

At that time – she felt calm inside her self – and the calm was not a theatrical script. And she was not trying to be a wonderful actress. And of course again she was not a whale with only ocean around her.

She just closed her eyes and went on to sleep. That could be the end of any story to anyone. But not for her. She knew it was another edition of that wonderful story.

In the morning a new message from him woke her – with a big smile she said her habitual phrase in such pleasure moments – thank you Universe.

A HAND IN THE FOG

XVI

Looking at that picture she felt something different inside her.

It was a beautiful view from the terrace – of course not so beautiful as she used to joke with him about another perfect landscape – but even so a beautiful landscape.

The sea was blue. Some trees made shadow on the floor. Between the sea and the terrace there was some roofs and at the end just the sand and the sea.

They were far one from another at that time of the picture. Not only because of the kilometers. In kilometers it was a little bit less than the usual – just nine thousands, three hundreds and twenty-two kilometers. There were six hundreds kilometers less – but of course and for sorry – so much distance.

The climate put another point of difference.

He was in summer. She was in winter.

He was at the beach. She was inside home.

He was tan. She was grey.

She smiled at that moment.

Not only for the description of her skin but she remembered her summer time at the beach – for many years and so many years ago.

Summer for her it was like a smile – a free smile of a good surprise.

The sun was hot, very hot. She woke and changed clothes so fast like an emergency. The preferred beach it was so easy to go. She went always walking. A not so long hill separated her from her beach.

Early in the morning she went down the hill almost running. She had long hair at that time and the warm wind made it flies around her neck and shoulders. It was a delicious sensation. The way until the beach it was bordered the sea by a side and by elegant buildings at the other side.

She never looked at the buildings – only to the side of the sea – like a magnet. She walked with the head directed to the right side.

In the right side she could dream all she wanted – this is one of the best permissions that the sea gives for someone who looks at it. She went down the little hill like she was inside a cloud. That was she.

She constructed stories. She imagined different countries with the same sea. She guessed how many different languages were trying to dialogue. She almost could hear the sounds.

Sometimes small white waves made her look to a specific movement. Many boats slithered crossing from one place to another.

There was an island in front and close. When she looked at the island the feet stopped the run to the beach and walked slowly. During sunny days it was possible see the island sand. Wonderful. She began to think about what the people in the island could imagine about the people of the continent.

Downing that hill alone she constructed a wonderful private world and when she finally arrived at her preferred beach it was like she had traveled for days or months. And it was only fifteen or twenty minutes walking.

And the same happened every day in this way to the beach. But not the same stories – at each day a detail changed the story inside her mind.

She looked at all that landscape like it was part of her body. Since she was born – or since a memory was born or created – who knows – inside her – she walked in this way to go to the beach. She was grown there.

Finally at the beach – when she sat on the hot sand and after went to feel the warm water around her skin – it was a sensation like she was re-born. She loved be inside the water, she loved walk with no sandal on the sand. The wind around her it was such a pleasure that she stopped her walking many times just to feel the wind on the skin.

But the most delicious it was walk on the sand at the end of the day. The sand was soft because many people walked during the day. The water was clear and calm. The sunset was beautiful – the city was located on an isthmus so the sunshine and sunset was at the beach. The colors of the sky, the sea and the land were fascinating. Wonderful.

It was really a delicious time.

When she went up the hill back to her home – the head turned at this time to the left. And she went on with her dreams and imagination.

Now it was another time.

One day she moved from that city and her beach was there, without her. For many years she thought about the sea and the island. About what people was doing or if the landscape changed.

The beach and the route to the beach it was the only memories from the city that made her almost cry when she remembered both. At that time she never looked at the buildings – only to the side of the sea – like a magnet. She walked with the head directed to the right side.

Now in the new city – she just had buildings to look. And she was sadly surprise one day when she went to a city with beaches and turned her head to the buildings instead of the beach. Yes. She changed inside her self – maybe because she lost the routine or maybe because the routine was lost for her.

It is the Life pointing the behaviors.

And in that morning that they were so far one to another – he sent the picture from the terrace. He was there with his summer.

She looked at the photo many times during the day. At each new look – she discovered a new detail she had not saw.

She was at home alone and with cold. Outside the window it was a dense fog.

She sat and looked once more to the photo in the computer – and decided to print it.

Yes. An excellent idea – said her to herself.

She printed in the best and big style and put on the wall in front of the place she used to sit to write or to eat something.

Suddenly she felt as she was looking at the window – through the window.

She almost could feel the warm breeze and the sun’s heat. She could swear that she listened the calm sound of the summer waves.

And she felt him close – much close. She knew the position that he took the picture. She could see what he was looking. She could know also that he was standing on the terrace without his shirt and with short and flip. His hair was flying because of the wind. His knees slightly bent. She could feel the smell of his skin and the eroticized smell of his kiss.  And she was absolutely sure that he stopped in some moment to listen the sound of wind in the leaves of those trees that were advancing on the terrace. She knew that he loved that sound.

He took the picture for her – and she was so much happy because of this. Sometimes the most beautiful feature of a photo is to exchange absence in presence.

At this time she didn’t close her eyes to pretend be there. With her fingers touching so soft the picture she could breathe the summer as if had opened a window. And could touch him standing and with his hair flying – but in silence for not disturb the sound of the leaves.

Looking at this private window she smiled. She forgot for a while the nine thousands, three hundreds and twenty-two kilometers between them – he was beside her. And she remembered also her preferred beach without need the help of the tears. She was feeling almost the same light and sweet sensation as so many years ago she felt when went down on the hill to go to her preferred beach every day – all summer time.

She sent a kiss for him.

She turned suddenly her head in the opposite side of that window when the phone sounded.

It was another delightful surprise. She felt warmish. And for that moment there was no fog and no cold – just a magical hot day.

A HAND IN THE FOG

XV

While she was waiting for him come back – some memories came to visit her. Sometimes the Memory surprised her – and the Past comes to sit by – to make her less lonely.

And she gave the permission and almost with hand by hand – Past and Present talked like good friends.

At that moment the Past began to talk about one morning when she was working.

She called the day of the concentration lost. She smiled. Yes. She loved put names or titles when a happening turned her head for another place. She never forgot all the years she had problems of concentration and considered her self cured.

He sent a message.

It was a surprise because he almost never wrote during the morning. He was working and she was working and he asked not to write messages because of the concentration – of course. She agreed partially. Sometimes she wrote but he answered with one or two words. She understood fast what was hide in the short answer and respected.

He was so polite and never said a hard word against these occasional transgressions. She should be attentive to him. He never said goodbye first. Never said now stop. He was really kind and polite with her.

Remembering his style, holding the hand of the Past and smiling to the Present – she was sure that she had much more to thanks him. Much more. And she turned up the head and blinked to the Universe.

The message from him in that morning it was: Here is our trip. All done.

She said for herself in real voice – yes – he is right. The cure disappeared like a bubble. She was like ever in the Past. She really could not be concentrated anymore.

It was hard push the mind, eyes, ears, hands – back again to the job.

The Memory brought so fast not the tools of her job, but all the five trips they made together. Five trips in so few time. And now the sixth trip together. He erased the nine thousand, nine hundred, forty-three kilometers on a delicious way.

For many times when they were together for few days he made jokes about – if there were another meeting. All the phrases and plans received that stamp – if. She smiled because she knew him and his jokes. Furthermore – she was sure that it would be.

He was correct, of course. He felt on his skin how fast plans could be changed. Nobody knows anything about the next minute – only her knew – she used to say to him. I know. I know all about our Future.

One day at the beach – one of their trips – they were sat very close one to another. She said this: I know about our Future. He touched her leg so soft and said please I do not want to know. Do not tell me.

And she stopped to say this until one day after dinner in living room – for their time for share the music. The dog was calm as always in these moments.

Suddenly he said – tell me what will happen with our Future. I want to know.

She smiled surprised and she began to tell what she thought. All. Every detail. She told about the time and the Time. She told about healthy and happiness. She told about what she could feel and about what he could feel. She told about what she thought about forever.

He listened. So many surprises and care. Too much love and share.

She didn’t remember exactly but maybe it was after that night that he nevermore made the joke about if. Possibly. But the Memory sometimes changes the orders because it knows that the product is the same. The important is the tattoo on and in the Memory. She felt a hug from the Past.

It was an unforgettable and touched evening for her.

In that morning from the arrived message she finally finished the job on time and went away in the evening without any mistake – of course with so much effort – and came back home hurried. She needed to read again the message.

When she was inside her home – she made a ritual.

Changed fast the clothes, served for her self a glass of wine, sat in her habitual place at the table, and put a music. She didn’t remember when was the last time she listened that specific music. She loved it above all but she just listened in such special moments, like a reverence – to the special moment and to the music.

Valse Sentimentale from Tchaikovsky.

For her that was one of the most beautiful compositions of the world. But she just listened in moments that she was sure she was happy. Happy. Not only with joy. Maybe seems the same – but are different feelings. She understood this difference after she met him – and because of him this line that separated the two sensations was bold.

That was the reason because she lost the concentration – all her was dominated for the real happiness. Now she knew. Fantastic. The unconscious made a good job. She smiled.

For sure and of course – only few times in her life she listened that music but always alone. At that time it was an occasion – a celebration. But not totally alone – he was with her in their private world of communication.

After all the ritual completed – she began to read the message calmly.

He was sure: all done.

The trip was unbelievable. Part would be in his opened car – part by ship. All the little cities and islands would be there – waiting for them.

The trip was completely out of common for her – so beautiful cities, so much history and the most beautiful sea of the Planet – with it special color around. He knew him and could evaluate how kind he was. He just chose this trip for her. He was there many times in his life and had wonderful and missing memories.

She remembered that he said – I want to go with you to this part of the world because I am sure you will be so fascinated and because your enthusiasm is contagious.

She smiled.

She remembered the surprise when she saw a picture of the last hotel of the trip and smiled. A wonderful hotel up on the rocks and the sea around. She sent to some friends the itinerary and the site of this particular hotel that he chose for them and wrote: how could I do not have enthusiasm.

Yes – it was impossible.

And she repeated he same thinking of the beginning of the memories. She was sure that she had much more to thanks him. Much more. And she turned up the head and blinked (again) to the Universe.

She put off the music and went to sleep. She was happy.

Past or Present or Future live only inside each one. Sometimes act like monsters other times act like lovers. At the end is just a private mix. Like she heard in some popular music – nobody will dreams our dream.

And the fog appears not only to provoke half visibility. Sometimes the fog appears also to announce a hot day.

That would be the next lesson.

A HAND IN THE FOG

XIV

She woke up early. It was not necessary in that specific morning – but she awoke early.

Coffee and bread without hurry as every morning made her feel so calm. Finally a morning to celebrate – there was no clock calling her each 5 minutes.

The climate was very cold and nobody was away from home. The silence on the street was almost magical. She loved this. She looked around her apartment and said the usual joke in real voice – so this is what happens when I am far from here. And the silence inside and some noise outside answered the usual joke.

She smiled to the mirror.

Suddenly a soft sound did her turn the head. It was a call from her friend.

If she wrote a report about that early morning could begin like: Point one – news from the friend.

They lived very far one to another but with the blessed modern technology – they could talk like common neighbors.

When the friend began to tell her what was happening with her body – terrible and dangerous diseases – she remembered Morpheus. Why hell she said good morning for him so early.

And she discovered the hard way that Morpheus demonstrated his power and vengeance when someone does some that he doesn’t like or want. Nobody knows the humor of a God but do not care – it is a real risk.

It was a horrible day. First the news from her friend and after some memories that began to reborn as a film – but a not so happy film.

The friend told about her own body. A disease was developing so fast and the medication was hurting her – so sadness for a so young girl. She fished the style of the phrases: so fast, so sadness, so young. She tried to make a puzzle with the words for her self trying to support the angst – so young, so sadness, so fast or so sadness, so young, so fast or so sadness, so fast, so young.

Of course it didn’t work. Words are only words. Feelings lived in another place. The communication re-born again.

But the worst it was when the friend asked her if she would be cured. She should answer the truth – but who really knows the truth. She just said half-truth and remembered also a poem she loved – a poem about the half-truth.

This was one of her preferred poem during all her life – or better – since she read it so many years ago.

This poem was the reality.

She answered for her – yes, you’ll never be cured – probably. The body can changes a disease. The mind can changes the body and the disease. Nobody knows what happens in fact with a body – a real slave from the mind – or vice versa.

But she cried in front of her when she said this. It supposed to be the strong – but she didn’t hold her tears. Both cried and both smiled. What a way to help a friend – she thought. When they said goodbye – her muscles were tension.

Sometimes nobody knows exactly the reasons of the tears and it was not different for her in that moment. She was not sure why cried with so much pain – maybe because of her friend or maybe because of her self.

In fact a person looks at all persons like it was in front of a mirror.

Almost like just one in the world in front of a millions of images. It is the selfish giving orders. The superego was in command.

But the morning had more to her.

She’d never forget the voice of her friend in that morning. She repeated or asked – she was not sure – with a slow and low voice: I will never be cured.

In the report the next paragraph could be – Point two – News from the Memory.

What a morning.

Because of this situation she remembered immediately when – one night many years ago – someone said some that hurt deeply her.

It was the same sound of her own voice when she answered him. Unbelievable.

She was surprised – the same sensation to be hurt or to be sick. The body and the soul are the same when afflicted. She would think about this someday in the Future – if the Future exists – of course.

It could be comic if not sad – the same sound of a voice.

But she would thank him forever. Forever. He made her understand like a cut of a knife – so cold and without blood in the beginning – her place. Or the place he understood as her place – without a doubt.

During many years after that night she pulled off the Memory this sign of wrong place every time she felt that she was making another mix like that. Or that someone was almost repeating the scene in front of her.

And the Memory helped her to go on without knives or shocks. When she felt that the past situation was coming back like a phantom with a different dress – she went away.

Simple.

She thanked for the Existence much more than for the Life itself.

Tomorrow – she spoke in high voice – it will be another day with so plural and different emotions. And other memories – I hope.

Please, Morpheus, tell me the time you prefer listen “good morning”.

She smiled.

A new message came – he wanted to ask about the next trip if she agreed. She almost told him about fog, knife, memory, place or voice. But said nothing.

Just smiled happy and celebrated the next trip with him. And became immediately to put an X in the days of the calendar. A beautiful calendar he made with his photos. Perfect. and smiled again.

At that moment she remembered another writer she admired so much. The day begins with an emotion and finishes with another emotion. She loved this.

And added talking with herself: the Life stammers phrases and phrases stammer the Life – a real communication.