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I'm increasingly changing. Some say for the better while others do not share their own. I love the other, those "others". They give me hope.

I've always had, and I fear change.

I should not digress and go to the story, precisely because of the story, another story, it is.

Yesterday I was in Bologna.

A cold dog dressed in a light drizzle that occasionally soaked the clothes of those who, like me, they thought: "Come on! Mica does not rain?" and instead ....

I went out recently from a supermarket and surplus at a slow pace for one of those suburban streets that make Bologna even more adorable. A road, with a small platform in contact with the gardens: empty because of the cold.

come from the opposite direction I see a young woman with an envelope in his hand pushing a pram with a baby a few years drowned in a down jacket with hood. A little "Michelin" red could just to turn heads. And he turned his head to his brother on his right, a beautiful little boy about five years.

He had a life belt with a holster type Old West and holding a toy gun, drum, pointing straight against the brother and intimacy to these "old Altolia zeien stinker! Sssòccia! I wanted to hit with your frezza poisoned and I will bring all uzzido. Click! Click! Click!

Beautiful! But could you ever imagine a cowboy who speaks with a strong accent? And if that were true, could never cowboy to kill? Absolutely not, I think.

still raining and they say it will continue to rain all week.
Sssòccia! Cursed "Piozzi!

I continue walking and repeating many times the phrase of the young cowboy smile and smile again and thereby defeats the puzzosa

NAUSEA

:-)

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WORDS GREETINGS FROM BOLOGNA CATANIA

I wrote a post about this city, "The other is us", 2.2.2008, and now back on the subject and, in particular, on those people. Incredible people, absurd, absurdly unreal, impossible, but to believe this.

has happened to me and tell me, so that normally happens in these parts.

But let us proceed with order.

I have a business meeting in Catania and I go there to discuss the points and, above all interests. I decide to reach the city by plane and rent a car there already on the plane to move but I can think of that city traffic, the inability to find a parking space, how to get my address.

No! And 'better and more appropriate to take a taxi.

After less than an hour's flight landed in Catania and already the track makes me shiver.

I do not have the power but I have always maintained that the track is, well, a little 'small'. Makes me think the hard braking upon landing and the roar of the engines which slow the plane. This, for example, does not happen in Rome and Milan where, I believe, those tracks are, well, "normal" longer, in fact.

Anyway! I take my trolley and go out and, surprise, there is a taxi. I ask a gentleman there of the place that answers me shouting "Chou spiassi to Stancanelli!" - I ask Stancanelli -. The same gentleman is Stancanelli learn that the mayor, not loved to tell the truth, and taxi drivers are on strike for a drawing municipal category.

"Piggie u 457!" - Take 457 - the old man continues to scream trying to stretch his arm to capacity to tell where the city buses, the 457 in fact, started. All right! I take the bus!

A € the price of the ticket from the airport to the city center of Rome against the eleven, seven and six of Bologna, Milan, for example. Mica little difference!

The bus seemed that I was expected and in fact, when I sat with a strong tug started.

I must reach by Lorenzo Bolano and I know that is in the north of the city. After a few minutes and then ask a lady of sixty, there on the bus, if he could show me some other bus to take to reach that route. "Ascutassi, it's easy! Just get to the femme Etnea, ISSI jug back and Piggie u 25!" - Listen to me. It 's easy! just arrives at Etnea, go ahead and take the 25 - said that lady shaking her palms, her eyes moving to the rhythm of the lips e. .. screaming as if someone had advised, wrongly, that I was deaf . "But peaks Etnea? Nun'è megghiu that SCINNUTA to 431 stations and Piggie u cu port rittu rittu via Bulanu?" -Is it not better to come down to Station and take the 431 which leads him straight away in Bolano? - He asks, crying, another lady at first! "Giustu! Hips u 431 is Bonu. Quannu go!" - Right! 431 is also good. When you pass! - Says the first by suggesting that the time is not respected and not just long and adds "in my Sintissi: u 25 u cunt or terminus and DDA bit piggiari oppuru u 525 u 628. Facie All up!" -I plays: 25 brings to an end and there you can take the 525 or the 628. These are all good! -. With the exception of the 457 all the other buses are not by chance that I mentioned being able to remember exactly the numbers.

"Puvireddu! Chistu stasira comes!" - Poor fellow! this here comes tonight! - Disconsolate cries a man turning his eyes by way of prayer to the roof of the bus and having attracted my attention, calm voice, hoarse and, anyway, always with high volume tells me: "Now she SCINNUTA stations and Piggie u 67. ... " - She now goes to the station and take the 67 ... - "But peak? Peak?" - But why? Why? - Cries the second lady to the Lord who is invested as a curse. U-67 passes for Independence Square and nun !!!!! You never get "turned to me" u ava a piggiari 25 ....."

The bus suddenly, nervously, moves to the right. He stops. "Giovanottoooo! You av'arrivari being Bolano? "cries a little more than a big man in his fifties, about a ton, the driver. I mention a nod. With hand beckons me to wait and trust in him.

As a ruling by the Supreme Court that invitation is also shared by the rest of the passengers with smiles and nods share the decision of the driver.

L ' bus again and the man starts to fumble with your phone. "Pippoooo! Huns? Ddocu motifs "- Pippo where are you? Expect there? - From specchieto beckons me to trust. In bus now there is only a buzz very well tolerated.

few minutes later we arrive at the train station. The 457 comes close to a bus. "Pippooo! Lassalu being Bulanu!" - Goofy! Leave him away Bolano! - Shouts the driver at the link provided me. "Scinnissi and ISSI 'nno colleague!" - Get out and go with fellow -.

thank again thank the man and with a nod to the ladies who responded with a satisfied smile to my greeting.

greet with a nod also to the gentleman who prayed facing the roof of the bus that I bothered to respond as a "Uummh!" and a wave of his hand.

I climb on that bus and the driver asked me: "Just you unn'ava dormouse?" - Exactly where she should go? -. I will list the company's headquarters. After about a quarter of an hour the bus starts to slow down, slowly, more and more, until it stops. "Incoming! Scinnissi" - Arrived! Fall -.

Goofy's hand, the driver tells me the company's headquarters.
A nod and a smile without any premolar is the answer to my "Thank You".

I can not help but notice that where I went down there the bus stop and that the entrance is too close to the company otherwise would be Goofy came up with the bus the door.

One more courtesy of Goofy for me. A courtesy to a person that Pippo did not know before.

Catania is all noise, screaming. Solar noise that disturbs but perhaps that gives warmth. Shout civilians are good for the heart, and no heat

NAUSEA

:-)

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Fairy tales come true

There once was a storyteller who, like all the singers had to play a little mandolin and a little carriage which went around the country.

When he arrived in a country, down from his wagon, sat on a stool and began to play happily. As he played telling fairy tales he had invented, the stories the children's favorite nursery rhymes and all he knew.

But the really great was that while the storyteller told his tales, alongside his bandwagon, seemed a big bubble! Within this large bubble appeared the characters of the tale he was telling!

So sometimes you could see enchanted castles, monsters and other princesses, knights and dragons others, and many more dolls and cuddly bears chubby!

was really wonderful to see the storybook characters come to life inside the bubble, it was a bit 'like watching TV, but at that time, the television did not exist! Everyone was fascinated by the fantastic tales that come true!

When the storyteller had finished his story, the soap bubble, like all bubbles, burst and vanished in a puff characters. The storyteller went back on his bandwagon and go to another country.

The tale he liked most was to tell the princess happy because the princess was very beautiful and all his listeners, and to tell the truth, too, they were in love!

One day, after much wandering, he arrived in a country where the center of the square there was a wishing well ....

-continues in the next post-