venerdì 8 maggio 2015

La finestra quadrata - The square window [From my novel]

Please, scroll down for the English

[...] Ci fermammo a pochi passi da Ponte Vecchio. Mi voltai a guardare indietro senza una ragione altra da quelle scritte dalla natura nel nostro destino. In alto notai per la prima volta la finestra quadrata. Una vetrata a tutta parete, dal pavimento al soffitto, al primo piano del palazzo dalla vernice pastello dirimpetto all’ingresso del Ponte, alla fine di Via Por Santa Maria. Potevo vedere la sagoma di una donna. Anche se non mi era possibile vederne definiti i contorni, la immaginai sinuosa, infilandosi lenta e consapevole in un letto bianco, attesa e osservata da un meraviglioso uomo dai capelli sale e pepe. Mi piaceva molto dire “capelli sale e pepe” quando ero al liceo, per questo la mia fantasia lo fece così. Potevano fare qualsiasi cosa mentre intanto ci guardavano, noi e il resto del mondo. Quante persone attraversano il Ponte Vecchio in una giornata? Milioni. Da dove vengono? Da qualsiasi parte del mondo. C’erano inoltre gli abitanti del luogo e il ponte stesso: tutti sotto i loro occhi, dentro ai loro orgasmi. 

Cercai invano di spiegare a Philippe cosa stavo fissando, non riuscii a farmi capire. Lei forse mi stava guardando, guardava proprio me, un attimo sembrava di sì, l’istante dopo era già una suggestione, ma tenni comunque i miei occhi appoggiati dove pensavo fossero i suoi. Magari c’era solo una cucina oltre quel vetro e la donna era una nonna in cerca di un raggio di luce dall’esterno per rammendare un calzino. Stavo pensando questo, quando sentii i suoi occhi dentro ai miei. Sapeva che la stavo osservando. Qualcosa nella sua ombra mi disse che c’era l’uomo in piedi dietro di lei. Lo stavano facendo! Era la prima volta che vedevo una coppia mentre lo faceva - non che mi sia capitato molte volte dopo, ma non è questo il punto - e nonostante non potessi davvero vedere alcunché, quella resta una delle cose più eccitanti che abbia mai visto. Non era solo la mia immaginazione: avvertivo fisicamente il contatto tra i nostri occhi. Che incredibile evento cosmico possono provocare gli occhi di una donna che sta facendo sesso quando incontrano quelli di una ragazzina affamata di vita. L’effetto di quella vista era uno scossone che mi conferiva un misterioso potere, mai avuto prima. Mi sentii benedetta, quasi come se avessi ricevuto la chiamata, per quanto miscredente possa suonare. Non scorderò mai quel giorno.  [...]
***
We stopped before than stepping into the Ponte Vecchio and, looking back, I noticed the square window. It was going from the floor to the ceiling, it was big and without curtains beyond it, looking right down at the bridge. I scope the shadow of a woman. I couldn’t discern any details, I though she was sinuous, sliding slowly into a white bed with a wonderful salt and pepper’s haired man. They could do everything while watching us and the rest of the world. How many people are walking on the Ponte Vecchio in a day? Millions. We are those people from? Everywhere. And from there are locals and the bridge itself.
I tried helplessly to explain Philippe what was I staring at, but I couldn’t. Maybe she was looking at me, so I kept my eyes where I thought her eyes were. What if there was just a kitchen there, and what if the woman I saw was a grandma looking for some light from outside while restitching some socks? I remember that this was my thought when I felt her eyes in my eyes. She knew I was looking. Something in her shadow told me she had the man behind. They were doing it! It was the first time I saw a couple doing it and, despite I couldn’t really see anything, it’s still the most exciting thing I ever seen. It wasn’t just my imagination: I felt the contact running between our eyes. What a cosmic event are provoking the eyes of woman having sex when they met those a young girl hungry for life. The effect of that sight were shaking, empowering. I felt blessed, almost like if it was a call, for as long as a disbelieving like me can guess. I’ll never forget that night.
I tried helplessly to explain Philippe what was I staring at, but I couldn’t. Maybe she was looking at me, so I kept my eyes where I thought her eyes where. What if there was just a kitchen there, and what if the woman I saw was a grandma looking for some light from outside while restitching some socks? I remember that this was my thought when I felt her eyes in my eyes. She knew I was looking. Something in her shadow told me she had the man behind. They were doing it! It was the first time I saw a couple doing it and, despite I couldn’t really see anything, it’s still the most exciting thing I ever seen. It wasn’t just my imagination: I felt the contact running between our eyes. What a cosmic event are provoking the eyes of woman having sex when they met those a young girl hungry for life. The effect of that sight were shaking, empowering. I felt blessed, almost like if it was a call, for as long as a disbelieving like me can guess. I’ll never forget that night.

I tried helplessly to explain Philippe what was I staring at, but I couldn’t. Maybe she was looking at me, so I kept my eyes where I thought her eyes where. What if there was just a kitchen there, and what if the woman I saw was a grandma looking for some light from outside while restitching some socks? I remember that this was my thought when I felt her eyes in my eyes. She knew I was looking. Something in her shadow told me she had the man behind. They were doing it! It was the first time I saw a couple doing it and, despite I couldn’t really see anything, it’s still the most exciting thing I ever seen. It wasn’t just my imagination: I felt the contact running between our eyes. What a cosmic event are provoking the eyes of woman having sex when they met those a young girl hungry for life. The effect of that sight were shaking, empowering. I felt blessed, almost like if it was a call, for as long as a disbelieving like me can guess. I’ll never forget that night.

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