the bus went down drunk with happiness. The brightness of the sun, which stretched clear across the plaza, made it difficult if not difficult to look up beyond the human scale. If At least one could see in all their historical marble tiles that formed the same square, a huge area of \u200b\u200babout 100 meters on each side surrounded by Renaissance and Romanesque buildings that housed the institutional headquarters, a Gothic church, and a court in pure Hellenic style. At the center of the square, an obelisk depicting Silvius IV, with its split from King of Parliament wearing a robe and wrapped on the Roman model. To the side, but not too close not to irritate the brigade, however, absent at the time, a kiosk vendors selling sandwiches, drinks, beer, chips, ice cream and summer as well. Drew him a gentleman of Pozzuoli.
The bus did stop, stopping on the right side of the road flanking the square, which was currently without a name because a meeting of the City Summit it was decided the next dedication.
Passengers were dropped, others were already gone up, waiting for the driver smoked two cigarettes in his ten-minute break, to escape the heat in the morning, as the civil service in a private vehicle was equipped with modern comfort system called air conditioning. " Terminate
quickly cigarettes, and with a considerable thirst, Ciro Cerla, the driver, he climbed on the car begins to move, and this set off following the road, leaving the view of the square was a prerogative of only the rear view mirrors. In particular, the right one.
- but that broke! - Said the Lord of Pozzuoli, and no one could hear him, and then went on thinking to himself, "had smoked a cigarette for less, or to limit smoking and walk together, would come to me, they bought the water and we were all happy. Definitely a blast. TSK. "
walked through the square drunk with happiness. What to be happy, given the heat, because there was not one square meter of shade or a bench to sit on, do not know yet. They meanwhile, walked. At some point, however, as captured by the collective spasm, or trigger pre-programmed, that's all drove together from their bags, pockets, storage compartments, however, is just a person of technological tools capable of capturing within him the image of reality simply by pressing a button or two on the edge, and these were getz gad-called "digital cameras". And, in order to disperse the square, but like wildfire, each with its own perspective, each one enjoying the view which he likes best, and which had previously imposed, began to frantically press the buttons on these machines, and more pigiavano , more smiling.
When he saw them, even the lord of Pozzuoli began to smile.
- Here are my chickens! - Said the Lord of Pozzuoli, without that no one would listen, and then continued thinking to himself: "photography, photograph well, that when you least expect it the heat of this sun melt you and your partner telematics trinkets ... and there falls the ass," and smiled Street said he had the proverbial lucubrations. "There will have to triple the price, I have them there! UECK. " He smiled, returning once staid for reasons that we are not here to investigate nor to review. The Lord of Pozzuoli, as you can guess its not a person in a way, but will be entitled to his cock.
And it is true that knew a lot, the marpione. Indeed, after tons of clicks, gallons of smiles, the faces of people drunk with happiness began to come out gallons of sweat. Unperturbed, and above all never stop smiling, they gathered in groups in a ant-style, and, given the kiosk with the tip of their index fingers, surrounded him in the short span of a few seconds. The same time that was needed for individuals in the Renaissance palace, all dressed in the same way, with variations as regards the ties and shades of gray or blue "uniform" ... we said, the same time that it took these gentlemen for agree on the new name of the square. Resulted in unanimous agreement on anything but ethical or moral reasons. However, not being we present the assembly in charge of this task, it remains unclear how we are nothing but gossips. The fact is that the square had a name, and so from now on we must be careful to write with a capital letter, has never learned that if someone wants it. Nevertheless, the formalization of the name would come only in the early afternoon, and since there are journalists or civilians in the assembly as well as legislators, it is clear that we'll have to wait. I almost
, we make a leap from the Lord of Pozzuoli, maybe a beer and a sandwich and run away if we're lucky we even talk. Obviously, however, we must wait for the smile of happiness have terms of being happily shrunken from the old rogue Puteolana.
In the meantime, read "The rime of the Ancient Mariner" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, in English, because it makes more, and last, because the benches in the square there are none, as I said earlier.
It is an ancient Mariner, And he
stoppeth one of three.
'By thy long gray beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore
stopp'st thou me?
The Bridegroom's doors are wide Opened,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
May'st hear the merry din. "
He Holds His skinny hand with HIM,
" There Was a ship, " quoth he.
'Hold off! unhand me, gray-beard loon! "
Eftsoons His hand dropt he.
He Holds HIM with His glittering eye-The Wedding-Guest
Stood Still,
And listens like a three years' child: The Mariner hath
His will.
The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone: He can not choose But
hear;
And Thus Spoke On That ancient man, The bright-eyed Mariner
.
I really like this ballad, but let's get back to us, because this is just the beginning ... the ballad, which is very long and we were not here for that. The men vanished
happy drunk with happiness by the kiosk, leaving virtually no of merchandise and food drinks. In return, they had made, drunk with happiness the lord of Pozzuoli, which slowly, smiling, walked away from the more humid place (we can still afford to use lower case).
- What big deal! - Said the Lord of Pozzuoli, and no one could hear him, and then went on thinking to himself: "With my slick showman and salesman skills may well give me a day at sea."
So, alas, no bread and beer, no talking, no nothing. And then I'm going home and I cook a big pot of spaghetti sauce of basil, two cold beers and then a well-deserved nap to pass with ease the hot sunshine of early afternoon.
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