... for a friend who becomes a father. Though you're still struggling to think only who is married. inevitably the memories come back to the time when the mysterious beauty covered our heads and there were too many thoughts about the upcoming shitty future. between a dinner, a beer and an evening in the local alternative coolest of central Italy (then) ran fast day. was devoted to alcohol and youthful vigor restore the soul.
and there was this German whom I called "Froilain" that was stubborn that he was the man of her life, and that not only had to hook up the black mustache and Italian mandolin, but he must have well as the stereotype of the romantic singer serenades a summer night in the arbor to display as a trophy in the land of the Boche. and him telling me that "oh, but the trial was put strange ideas in my head," and I said, "but from want and do it as a snots over there." expeditious solution, were it not that, "but was put into head to take me to the altar ... "and I said, 'God, is never a wedding banquet with sauerkraut and beer could be counterproductive to personal relationships."
fact is that at times had to endure Froilain drink a little 'more than usual. him. I drank a little' more for sport. but from drinking a bit 'more of the drunk sometimes there's a thin line of grass covered which is easy to fall. so at four o'clock in the morning turns to the local as an idiot, looking for your driver, and another passenger, apparently without too much hurry to leave that tells you not only him but also there is no appeal Froilain. if a plus one equals two is not, I'd say close enough. Unfortunately, even the beautiful love stories are coming to an end, to return to that phase of expectation "that makes any complicity even more passionate (but I'm saying?). "I look inside, you go out." Which is to say: "If I'm out to fuck, they warn you that tomorrow also will be equipped with a penis and a vagina and may use them anyway, because they do not have a label with the expiration date?". eccerto ... you are a woman then it's my turn to do the dirty work. still go out to the parking lot. I approach the car when my eye falls on the back seat. I see a half-reclining figure. upside the head and see that the car is on the roadside and, well, something a little 'more riservato potevano pure sceglierlo. ma ad una seconda occhiata vedo lui addormentato dai fumi dell'alcole (o dai rutti col retrogusto di crauti) e lei che gli tiene la testa sulle ginocchia, preoccupata come una crocerossina al fronte. Mi fa: "e ho-ra ko-me thorneremo a ka-sa?". "ah, guido io". "ma anke tu sei u-pria-co". "facciamo guidare il bell'addormentato?".
ci sarebbe stato da ridere se la pattuglia ubicata a poca distanza dal locale ci avesse fermato. che non avevo con me neanche la patente quel giorno.
non so se questo è il ricordo giusto per una paternità, ma le storie sdolcinate mi danno il voltastomaco, così questo è The first memory I have crossed my mind.
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