'm reading a "love" Buzz. without going into details, it is the detailed description of what happens in the mind of a man when he is stoned for a girl who turns it like a sock.
there I find myself in full. I tried it from beginning to end that sequence of sensations. my mind has developed from beginning to end the speculation that the protagonist of the fine book by Buzzati like me, was building to find a to something without justification why. when one is immersed in the fog that clouds the brain and straightens the penis simply forget that if a girl does not care, no use wasting precious time.
she was beautiful. she is beautiful. but now the judge only by a beautiful aesthetic point of view. this time around, everything was indirectly related to her, miraculously took a taste of spring pervaded the air. if things go as I hoped we would have taken to sit down after ten minutes. I, too proud of my mind to accept her, she too proud of his life to make compromises with my own. this is what I say now with a cool head. that time I'd probably become a doormat available to its graceful legs.
with her, there are quite a lot in common. useless if the contrary now that we are far apart. she had understood everything immediately. women are more awake, or perhaps the vagina does not steal blood to the brain as much as you steal the bird. I did not understand anything, not even when I intended to reason with clarity and coldness. I did not understand that hard work is not a sufficient excuse to postpone the meetings. nor seem to understand that coincidences that kept us away excuses were dictated by some 'trivial. until the sun rose colleague work. yet all the statistics say that the office is a good place in which to find a love match. I had forgotten, working in a male environment.
knew it was after a work colleague. then she said: "I'm in love with a boy." because her story seemed to have difficulty, I still try to wedge. happened to meet again. it seemed that the third wheel (which actually was me, and I was one third of any account) there was no more. Then one evening in February, I was sitting in a small room on the Adriatic coast, waiting for a concert. I see her enter. she always tiny and cute. with her legs in a buffalo with "x". I submit it. I understand that his name is a link. I remember when sent by mail recipients appeared. "Well, you do a quiet evening at a concert with a colleague. Just today wrote to me saying that is a very happy period." sit in front of me. the plastic chairs are not sufficient to contain the back of that monolith of flesh. the sides out of the profile of the back, straying far in her chair. the face of a desperate reveals ten, fifteen years her senior.
but who knows which side I said, when the mass of abnormally high triglycerides, I saw his hand intertwined with his, the ring that she wears to cover a tattoo on his finger in the finger carrot that of musk ox. I left before the end of the concert, could not stand the scene. I wonder why I said that things were going badly, as he was building a relationship. few days after returning from a pub, I broke my leg going up in the car (the chronicles of that, between February and March 2008), virtually stopped and I said to myself that maybe it was enough that I had seen a few days before ...
here, I was the architect hero of the book Buzz. sometimes it happens and you pay the consequences for long.
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