#favola · parole · racconto

O / L / I / V / E / R / 2 (April 2019) English version

Premise: I received several requests for the publication of some articles in English. I try, premising my not excellent translation skills. happy reading, people of the world.


Here we are, slowly arrived at April 2, 2019.

Here we are, quickly arrived on April 2, 2019.

Here we are; regardless of any travel speed; arrived, regardless.

We just need to understand what was most important. Travel? The goal? The direction? The speed? The push? The obstacles? The joys? Forgotten? The pains? The memories?

According to concrete data, today, it must be noted that three years have passed. Incredible to stop and think about how long these three years have been formed. Many months, many days, mountains of minutes and oceans of seconds. It is incredible to stop and think how little memories, emotions and smiles have scratched. they all seem to be a moment earlier. They all seem like now. They all seem to be born every time the thought touches them.

The real fact is that today we have been our last farewell for three years. The last until the next. A forthcoming greeting that, mistakenly, I had tried to tell myself would have matured, would have arrived, believing that it was really enough to give time to time; he would come out of humanity, out of kindness, out of conscience. I had tried to tell myself these and other strange and bizarre theories, even if constant, inexorable and unshakable, something promptly reminded me of another story. The story that the world has written much more simply. Agito.

I will avoid the usual, boring, unnecessary recriminations. Who gave gave said; who has had has kept; who said has given; point.

I just want to leave you a thought on this day. For when the time will come to recompose the pieces. For when the time will come when the pieces will return to being in the right place, in the right direction, to fit together, to reveal the greatest, to restore the meanings, the senses, the answers. There will be a moment when there will be the right light to illuminate all the tiles; all, one next to the other, to give a sense of the whole, to give a sense also to the past. I want to leave you a memory on this day.

Three years. Affection for you hasn’t changed. The desire to know about you, how you are, what you do hasn’t changed. The desire to feel how you are growing has not changed. All the good I wanted for you hasn’t changed. All the good I want for you hasn’t changed. All the good I have received from you has not changed. Not even a comma of all the things I put in has changed, saying that your rights were others. The certainty that you deserved another kind of respect and consideration has not changed in the least. My respect for trying not to invade your spaces hasn’t changed. My ability to be with you and in your life has not changed, taking a very small step. My respect for you and your life hasn’t changed. The humility in which I wait for a new greeting has not changed, although I could take it whenever I want. My deep gratitude to those who are loving you and growing has not changed. The lack I feel of you hasn’t changed. My consistency in not regretting the choices made has not changed. My happiness has not changed in remembering you. My hope has not changed that life is stronger, fairer, grateful and far-sighted than all of us human beings. My being confident that the design of the world is stronger than human will has not changed. My need to hear me simply say you’re fine hasn’t changed. What has done good for you has not changed, which I claim, I carry with pride within me and that no one will cancel.

After three years, today I want to leave you here, in these lines, a simple concept. Today it won’t do anything, just to make me feel less distant from you. At the right moment, if the world gives this story an opportune moment, you will find these lines.

You will find these lines that tell you that every day, in these three years, I have waited to be able to hear you, see you, greet you. I waited to receive news about you. I waited to give you a hug. I waited for all those things you asked me for that greeting on that difficult morning to materialize. I waited to be able to tell you that I was happy for you. I looked forward to hearing how you were. I did things so that some of your desires not to get lost, to be able to hear or see could come true; I tried. The results were apparently bad. In these lines, however, I write it in black and white: it was not my choice not to be part of your life anymore. I have tried to do it, I have written, I have given all my availability to be able to be present, leaving it to those who have responsibility for you to decide how where and when. I think of you. always. I miss you. Always. I am waiting to meet you. Always. It is not me who chooses that this does not happen. I leave it written here and nobody can ever deny me about all this. Nobody.

Occasionally I hope that, in reality, you have forgotten everything. I hope you don’t even want to know anything anymore. I hope you don’t think about it anymore, that you are so well that you have turned the page. I hope that you do not feel nostalgia, curiosity, that there is no room for memories because all your space is filled with happiness for the life you are living now. I hope you don’t even want to hear about your past anymore. I hope you no longer think three years ago. I hope that no memory will emerge in you. I hope he doesn’t want to greet me, hear me, remember me, hug me. I hope it is just and simply a whole paranoia of mine, a problem of mine, a need only and mine alone. I hope I am wrong. I wish I had it all wrong. I hope all of this is what you want. I hope you are far away and kept as such because you want it so. I hope so, every now and then. I hope you are done with the past. I hope you do not touch the idea that I am selfless to you. I hope you have never been touched by the idea of ​​having been abandoned. I hope that you are happy like this and that it goes well. I hope so, although I find it hard to believe it. I hope so even if I don’t believe it. I hope so even if I don’t think so. I hope so only and simply because, if this were not the case, I cannot find a single human explanation that justifies the evil that has been caused to you. I hope so, because the evil caused to you, which is clear to you from these lines, I did not want, shared, built myself.

I would leave on foot now, just to say hi and I love you.

Three years today, I am only writing to tell you that, if it were up to me, I would feel you, I would see, I would write, I would embrace every day. Three years today and it still hurts to wait. Three years today without any certainty that three years of distance not chosen, decided and shared by me, in any way, have not hurt you. Three years waiting in vain but, for me, thirty more can pass in the end. You will find me there, waiting like the first day to be able to give you what you may need. Thirty more can pass, puppy, and I’ll be ready if you need. Otherwise I will wait in vain, it doesn’t matter. You will never need me again and it will be fine even if it is good for you.

Three years today and the only thing I can tell you is that to your question “can I come in an embrace?”, The answer would always be the same that I have given you for so long. Yes. The answer will always be the same. Yes. When you need it. It would have been the same every single moment of these three years since the last hug from which we barely broke up that morning. Yes, always and only yes, you will have a place that will embrace you if and when you want.

Three years. I love you. I think you already know it but I repeat it. I love you. three years away and not by my choice. Three years away that I think are you are a mistake, a badness, a bad choice. Three years. I love you.



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