I wrote this cast on a park bench on the road Sunday, April 12, six days after the earthquake. In Pescara
I seem to walk on the superficiality made concrete and asphalt. Not everywhere, of course, only in some parts of the city, such as for example the copy center. This consumption of which I had already talked to me almost sick, the appearance "show for show sake" fills my eyes have seen something that will keep them filled and satiated for the time necessary. Copy the fact that for a week I listened to music of my own free will, just yesterday I took over the i-pod and MTV, that's almost like I played in a fine park has a fine quartet of favorites. Tiziano tells me that my life will not go, and Carmen says he's not at all tired. As for music take me to heaven in the yard of the school cadet officers of the Guardia di Finanza was enough for me, but since there is no limit to the human desire I would have appreciated the presence of Andrea to support this wretched hopeful.
I thought, and the future? I'm not worried about the organization of examinations and the thesis, nor the fact of having to change the university next year probably, is that for a moment I have not seen real purpose, and also the intense thinking about the possibilities of my relationship with Melissa vanished. I just heard the environmental setting of the holy Eusebius to catechumenion Wednesday, but yesterday after a word is back. Everything passes, the feelings, the things, people, projects, life, and now there's a guy next to me, well dressed, nice, on a bike, who stopped to speak with a gentleman that can : he can not speak for almost anything, all seem to sound plaintive, but understands very well, and it helps with the gestures, and I've got the word yet, but I can not rely on it as an anchor infinite, since even the F3JP battery will run out of this. Only love remains.
Andrea survived the student home, and thank goodness, because I broke the word of the prophet, even though the mountains staggered - and have shaken the great - my promise is eternal, and you do not end up, because the love overcomes all barriers of life. And yesterday after six days of constant thought and turned to the earthquake a mini panic attack in bed, I did not think for a couple of hours at all. Both of course, I do not want to forget anything, I saw the dead, are not so lucky and miraculous out of the rubble, my friends and family are unharmed, but a friend of an acquaintance of engineering, my house is destroyed, but it is not I own, in short, wanting to have the least affected of the whole thing. Yet there is no more home Leonardis, the heart of our university life, out of a thousand, a thousand adventures go wrong with girls and women more or less available, of drunkenness, of hours spent talking to friends who are or who betray you, Christ, Training and gargantuan dinners made with tuna, ham and bread that is cut, and then a lot of music, and lots of study at night to retrieve the past few days doing nothing. How are attached to emotions!
What more do you stay inside is the suffering that you see in people's eyes, and the knowledge that they understand, at least in part, more than all the rest of Italy, because there you were there, you also have awakened by bass and deafening noise of the shaking, and then moving the bed and walk barefoot on the rubble, the doors that will not open because everything is distorted, all your items on the ground that was not available either because your concern is a jacket, glasses and portable, it is necessary and only after putting on his pants, what does it matter out in his underwear? It does not help very much aware that he saved a group of people locked in our own building, trapped and in real panic, nor to have helped to eight hours impiedi shoes without socks in the police to divert traffic and bring relief to ease the Columns . That same evening there was a strong desire, and Manuel I, to return to L'Aquila: like being at home, safe in bed, knowing that there is still plenty to do, to dig, to be recovered, to console, to be organized, to say hello and see and say "I'm glad you're alive."
Yet Christ is risen, and there comes to give eternal life already in this earthly life, along with the cross and persecution. My cross is my story, not an objective. I think at this point that this cross I have to keep her tight, because it is obvious that it is my Jacob's ladder. And the tattoo on his hand, my name engraved on the palms of his hands, which will ensure that you never forget me, and I in him, is written and engraved with an iron nail.
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