When I begin to imagine the things I can not help it.
is not a thing that can stop or pause as to send in a video recorder. It's not something I can control. When the brain runs
I let it run.
stop it hurts the dog, you eat the ends of the cassette tape and after you can not rewind.
and painful.
I liked.
It was like watching four cartoon characters singing and playing.
surreal but perfectly integrated with the context.
A sticker placed in the middle of the crowd, like a cinema screen at head height.
I saw them with eyes hollow as those that I design.
and was moving. Finally
my characters moved, had its own life.
no need for cameras trained on the sheet without the need for programs unpronounceable for the PC.
Alone.
knew it. And they knew
play.
The flash of my digital work is hectic.
I could never leave without immortal, and even without design, as I saw them, in this mixture of awareness and denial of reality.
"This is the nuke that is immersed in his moment autistic"
said a friend of mine saw me take the sketchbook and pencil. The
did not matter, now I am accustomed.
I had to draw them.
awareness took over.
wrote my e-mail address and the address of my blog / portfolio on the sheet and went out looking for them.
Nothing.
resemble all these kids, dammit! I thought.
I asked my friend if he acknowledged the crowd.
I knew they were there!
He had recognized them when they went out with beer in hand just now.
Nothing.
evaporated.
unconsciousness took over.
Li had absorbed in my pencil, then in my spreadsheet. They had returned
simple characters of paper.
They were in my jacket pocket.
Someone touched my arm.
"Sorry guys, you think it's map or something?"
This time I had the answer ready.
only a few seconds of distraction.
Unlike the quasi-minute early evening, when I was asked the same question.
"I will, cel'ho"
I opened the bag and began to dodge the digital portfolio and all that a small bag can hold. I
the four guys who had played earlier.
Finally, after what seemed a century, I found the box with the maps. Offered it to him.
"oh no ..." disappointed the boy said "I served great."
I put everything in place and we left.
My friends made fun of the guy pointing out that two small maps can become great. They laughed and cried.
the driveway gravel surrounded by cypress trees was bitterly cold and took a violent wind and cold.
were two in the morning.
Smile and hope in my ignorance.
I wish my friends were able to understand at least a little bit my world.
But just can not.
They kept asking me a script to the house, hoping let me speak.
But if I have nothing to say I'm quiet, I risk talking nonsense and I do not like.
"It's not that you look stupid, you do not understand why you always have to just stand in a world apart"
I'm not a sad person.
I'm not a different person. I'm not a person
asocial.
I'm not a strange person. I am not an introvert person
.
I'm just one person distracted.
The day after this point of view was better.
I could not distract me for a while ', except when there is attention slackened all at once, close and bitter coffee, each ensconced in its own newspaper.
La Gazzetta dello Sport Greg.
Dno for The Nation. The Tirreno
for Abe.
The Manifesto for me.
Sitting at the table of the bar in the square, with his mother at the bar laughed and told me to go see the historic perpetual had fallen asleep in his chair, as a sort of tired old owl.
I smiled, thinking that was exactly how I wanted to grow old. So trivial and obvious. With old friends. Sitting on that same chair in the same bar. With the voices of children of children who were running out now.
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