Respira forte, è l’odore della notte estiva. Seppellitti di pioggia aspettiamo il sole come se cambiasse qualcosa, e si gira di più per guadagnare tempo al tempo. I miei castelli di sabbia hanno fondamenta di cemento armato con le licenze, io ho responsabilità, ho libertà, ho amore. Guardami, non ti sembra che i miei trentatrè anni siano ancora pochi, certi minuti? Guardami bene, il fluttuare delle benzine e del grano mi lasciano intatta, ho costruito il mio mondo attorno a quello che non cambia, e qualche volta il mio albero mi dà frutti non solo buoni ma anche belli. Guardami, porca miseria, ho ricominciato a fumare, ad attardarmi, ad essere inquieta. Verrà il giorno in cui riposarsi, ma non ancora.
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5 risposte su “Meglio il tramonto o l’alba?”
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