The room was sweetly inhabited by some people sitting at the two tables, chatting more or less about nothing, repairing from the sharp sun. The old man was behind the restaurant, working in the kitchen with little experience on how to make pizza. The voices of the people crossed over each other, creating weird conversations for the ones who happened to listen the whole. The two pizzas happened to be ready at the same time, heading toward the perfect middle of the hungry clients. It took few minutes for the people to fade their talking and for the music to come over, slightly surpassing the volume of the thankful chewing. 



She caressed the photograph, like if she could revive the rough hands, the warm breath, and the sharp eyes his grandpa had.


That was a nice name, the one that guy had -Pasquale- it gave her precision, a fixed date where to collocate events, when she could barely remember what she ate for dinner. 


Her facebook profile did not specify if she was in a relationship or not. No pictures of her and a possible partner in romantic european capitals or fancy restaurants. No status about being in love.He then took a deep breath before starting a casual conversation with her. 


The little cocker spaniel put the dead lizard, the chewed shoe, and the arm of the teddy bear on the pillow of his owner’s bed, so that he could immediately admire them and congratulate him as soon as he got home.


She was undressing in her room, the night was sultry and she was having an hard time taking off the clothes from her sweat body. She was still trembling. Her breath was short. Her parents were waiting in the living room, she could hear her mom pouring the whiskey in the crystal glass. She looked at herself in the mirror. She sighed. She hoped her parents would not have paid attention to her melancholic eyes that night. 

Joie de vivre

Dust and mud, tensed muscles, sweat on the spine, bitter saliva. Hard to raise the sight from the way, scared to see the long way till the end.

But when I took the courage, I noticed white, pure white on the corner of the road. It was still, not moving, I wondered if it was real.

But then, in a dilated, infinitesimal break of time, he opened his wings, and the graceful heron took his flight.

I then felt it, so bright, the joie de vivre.