quickly put away the text in the folder, still troubled, and surrounded by a multitude of conflicting thoughts, turned his face to the door contract. William came through the door and do so and looking down, he sat in his usual wooden chair with a back chipped.
"Hello teacher!" She said as she pulled out a brown leather briefcase from some yellow leaves with holes.
"Good evening, William" said Stephen, catching the eye with a particular teacher who screeched with gentle elegance of his person. His leather shoes, topped by a white cotton terry socks were dirty with dried mud and somewhat torn.
The silence was broken by the arrival of other students. Stefano, waking from that strange state of immobility that had crashed, greeted the new arrivals. Then, turning his back to rows of chairs and desks that slowly filled up, he found himself inevitably think of that text so bizarre that troubled him.
had to decide first whether to discuss with the class. He had re-read at least a dozen times and the written word at random without un ordine apparentemente logico e piene di errori grammaticali risuonavano dentro di lui in modo alquanto ambiguo. Non aveva idea di chi potesse essere l’autore di un tale testo e non poteva neanche confrontare la calligrafia con quella degli studenti, perché quelle parole erano state scritte con un normografo. Inoltre l’autore aveva utilizzato una miriade di colori e aveva disposto le parole in forme ellittiche. Eppure tutto ciò non gli pareva avere l’aspetto di uno scherzo.
Decise infine di non farne menzione con la classe ed ignorare deliberatamente il testo, al di là di tutto principalmente per la sua incomprensibilità. Prese quindi in mano gli altri ed iniziò a commentare quello che a suo parere era più meritevole, almeno dal punto di vista stilistico. Riteneva di aver individuato l’autore di alcuni dei componimenti. Secondo il suo intuito quello che stava leggendo ora era opera di Enrica. Una storia molto commovente, di solitudine, di emarginazione sociale.
Ma in realtà mentre Stefano leggeva, gli occhi di Enrica erano di ghiaccio. Quell’azzurro tenue era fisso in un punto di chissà dove, straniato tra la polvere del pavimento di marmo, mentre il suo viso era impietrito in un sorriso surreale. La donna, muovendo senza tregua un piede, faceva salire di un centimetro o due il pantalone di lino nero, lasciando scorgere per pochi intermittenti secondi, un tatuaggio a forma di spirale.
Intanto Stefano, mentre commentava il testo che aveva in mano, saw from above the lunette glasses a rather unusual scene: William, looking vaguely amused, nervously crumpled balls of paper in its yellow leaves, after which he placed all in a row at the end of the bench. Stefano annoyed stopped. The class
glanced at the professor. William dropped the ball on the ground.
Inwardly Stefano could not stop thinking about the cryptic text author unknown, could not stop asking questions. Why upset him like that? In addition, perhaps as a consequence of what that day felt the class in a different way. Details that otherwise would not have even noticed the time seemed morbidly full of meaning.
After a few moments of silence, decided to interrupt the lesson.
"Excuse me but now I do not feel very well, it's better to stop the lesson. The next time you comment on other texts. "Stefano said before the puzzled eyes of students.
Slowly they began to take their stuff and leave the church with a sequential row of "Goodbye." Watching them come out of the corner of the eye, Stefano focused man with a raincoat that day had come. Maybe he was the author of that text? He was not present when the students had deposited them on the desk. In theory it was possible. And, if so, why had not come? Perhaps to understand the paternity leave?
"Enough!" He said. He must try not to think about it, either at the time were only guesses.
It was late evening, the dim light of the lamps in the church wall returned to its long history. Stefano increasingly victim of his thoughts, he was completely estranged from the contingency of reality. He put the folder containing the text in red brown leather bag and get out quickly before he gave a small glimpse of the empty pews. On the ground, asleep at the foot of a chair, there was a ball of yellow paper.
was that William had dropped. With
gasp went to pick it up and the opening.
"Hello teacher!" She said as she pulled out a brown leather briefcase from some yellow leaves with holes.
"Good evening, William" said Stephen, catching the eye with a particular teacher who screeched with gentle elegance of his person. His leather shoes, topped by a white cotton terry socks were dirty with dried mud and somewhat torn.
The silence was broken by the arrival of other students. Stefano, waking from that strange state of immobility that had crashed, greeted the new arrivals. Then, turning his back to rows of chairs and desks that slowly filled up, he found himself inevitably think of that text so bizarre that troubled him.
had to decide first whether to discuss with the class. He had re-read at least a dozen times and the written word at random without un ordine apparentemente logico e piene di errori grammaticali risuonavano dentro di lui in modo alquanto ambiguo. Non aveva idea di chi potesse essere l’autore di un tale testo e non poteva neanche confrontare la calligrafia con quella degli studenti, perché quelle parole erano state scritte con un normografo. Inoltre l’autore aveva utilizzato una miriade di colori e aveva disposto le parole in forme ellittiche. Eppure tutto ciò non gli pareva avere l’aspetto di uno scherzo.
Decise infine di non farne menzione con la classe ed ignorare deliberatamente il testo, al di là di tutto principalmente per la sua incomprensibilità. Prese quindi in mano gli altri ed iniziò a commentare quello che a suo parere era più meritevole, almeno dal punto di vista stilistico. Riteneva di aver individuato l’autore di alcuni dei componimenti. Secondo il suo intuito quello che stava leggendo ora era opera di Enrica. Una storia molto commovente, di solitudine, di emarginazione sociale.
Ma in realtà mentre Stefano leggeva, gli occhi di Enrica erano di ghiaccio. Quell’azzurro tenue era fisso in un punto di chissà dove, straniato tra la polvere del pavimento di marmo, mentre il suo viso era impietrito in un sorriso surreale. La donna, muovendo senza tregua un piede, faceva salire di un centimetro o due il pantalone di lino nero, lasciando scorgere per pochi intermittenti secondi, un tatuaggio a forma di spirale.
Intanto Stefano, mentre commentava il testo che aveva in mano, saw from above the lunette glasses a rather unusual scene: William, looking vaguely amused, nervously crumpled balls of paper in its yellow leaves, after which he placed all in a row at the end of the bench. Stefano annoyed stopped. The class
glanced at the professor. William dropped the ball on the ground.
Inwardly Stefano could not stop thinking about the cryptic text author unknown, could not stop asking questions. Why upset him like that? In addition, perhaps as a consequence of what that day felt the class in a different way. Details that otherwise would not have even noticed the time seemed morbidly full of meaning.
After a few moments of silence, decided to interrupt the lesson.
"Excuse me but now I do not feel very well, it's better to stop the lesson. The next time you comment on other texts. "Stefano said before the puzzled eyes of students.
Slowly they began to take their stuff and leave the church with a sequential row of "Goodbye." Watching them come out of the corner of the eye, Stefano focused man with a raincoat that day had come. Maybe he was the author of that text? He was not present when the students had deposited them on the desk. In theory it was possible. And, if so, why had not come? Perhaps to understand the paternity leave?
"Enough!" He said. He must try not to think about it, either at the time were only guesses.
It was late evening, the dim light of the lamps in the church wall returned to its long history. Stefano increasingly victim of his thoughts, he was completely estranged from the contingency of reality. He put the folder containing the text in red brown leather bag and get out quickly before he gave a small glimpse of the empty pews. On the ground, asleep at the foot of a chair, there was a ball of yellow paper.
was that William had dropped. With
gasp went to pick it up and the opening.
(autore: Elena Cervetti)
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