Festival .
That evening Cassiopeia was in place in that position by a stiff neck. But even if he had moved a little, something that would upset the whole universe and all of the phones went crazy for astronomers, he would have noticed. He knew the constellations and major stars in the night sky just enough, from the days when it had seemed useful to impress the foreign came to Urbino in the first week of July and last August.
winter, in fact, Cassiopeia, the Big Dipper, the Cepheid and the whole company, subject to the North Star, went to wander in quite different areas of the sky that he was never worried, not once, not even in a clear, warm nights, to go and look. The North Star. That was a loyal friend. Do not betray you, he was always there waiting for him.
At the right time would have put everything in order, and the evening would bring Luciano Giselle on duty along the walls darker, far from the annoying street lamps that impede the view of the Milky Way and shooting stars, a show that already appears in Urbino On the first night of July, or so says those who like to look for in those days, the first fruits of the sky.
Can you explain the name and location of a star is not easy. Just the view of the eye changes already a few inches and you go out of one million light years away, is a responsibility mica recently. You can not go wrong. To prevent that from happening is absolutely necessary to pull the cheeks to push the cheeks: her eyes must be as close as possible, to enjoy the scents of the skin and blend the hair, perhaps clinging to steady himself and also because here in the evening, even summer is always a bit 'freschino.
So we said that Cassiopeia was there as always. Luciano had begun to look at that kind of double vu drawn in the sky, remaining almost hypnotized by itself and is waiting for his answers. Up there it was all normal. But he, he was now six hours he had lost all contact with all forms of life in the world.
It was put to sleep on the couch in the basement just after lunch, during the hottest hours and sultry, waking up at four, when he had not found in the house his wife and son. Never mind, I will be gone, he thought, then he went out to go to the library.
Closed.
The bar was open instead of close, but strangely empty. It was then that he realized the strangeness of everything and looked around. No one was living in the city. He began to turn to the center, but everywhere the same scenes. Something must have happened, more or less in the afternoon: the bars were open but empty it. The shops were actually closed for the pause in the central hours but had not been reopened. None of his contacts answered the phone. The television gave no signals except a few old local station that broadcast the show recorded. Same thing with the radio. He remembered the tape he sent repetitive C180 in the first wave for the night to greet all of RadioBlu. He called it the headquarters of the radio, but as he feared there was no answer. The same with the TV and newspapers.
Nothing. All gone.
For days tried every form of contact, to no avail. The anguish, the emptiness was impressive, but as time passed slowly began to accept it. After a few months had to be stopped questions, to question what was happening to him. In the dark moments he had thought of being in a coma because of an accident, that his brain had an injury and that the perception of reality as material apparently was no more, as indeed happens even to the healthy, the result of his brain activity, which are now missing some elements. But that idea saddened him useless, and so abandoned it. Now just lived in the conviction of being a special type. He renamed it the God
forgetful.
was peaceful, as never in his life. Elated, in fact, and not for a specific reason for the natural condition, as if they had gone all the constraints, limits, law, but above all the dangers and anxieties. Omnipotence, could be defined. Almost a strange feeling of immortality, he lost more and more thinking. In any case, now he could think big, nothing had prevented. He went to the Ferrari dealership, "the Ferrari, look at stuff, it will be sborroni, but if I am alone, who cares?" And began to go around the world, but for Europe as ships and aircraft do not travel, unfortunately.
Everything was at its exclusive disposal.
Nowhere is there no trace of the human race? It was not necessarily a bad thing. Sure, there were no women. If at least they had gone only males. And his wife. Mica that he loved her, but if she was there, you could not. If nothing else, in desperation, they would be granted. The only bird available. No, no, it was better that way. They would have torn to pieces. Of all the possible hotels
decided to settle in the suite "Alain Delon" Carlton Hotel, with private pool and glass walls overlooking the bay of Cannes, just above the palm trees of La Croisette.
If we had wanted to jump up there would be a certainty. This idea that in the early days had turned the head, was slowly removed from the comforts of that state more pleasant. And why not be happy? In the end he had always hated two things: work and the people. And both were gone for ever, completely.
Perhaps this was Paradise. And Paradise is perhaps not the fulfillment of all desires? "And then maybe in a little 'go even better," they said. "For example, if Bellucci is around somewhere, where better to wait, the city's Film Festival?"
indeed not have to wait long. One morning on the bathroom mirror, he found a simple post-it: "Sharon Stone at lunch in the suite."
What does it mean? There is a suite called Sharon Stone where someone is waiting for me or the signature on the ticket was the star American? They were still ten. The beard, Bellucci, you see? You see what is heaven? Just think of a wish and it will come true. Even Sharon Stone can not hurt. I must not think evil, I must not fear devils or something like that maybe those come true. Away, away, not even joking, do not think the old, gone, gone! Monica Bellucci Sharon Stone. Bellucci. Stone. Bellucci. Stone. Baluchistan, a region of what is Asian? Do not be distracted! Bellucci. Stone. The beard, the shower, the smell, I have to shave, look at that stuff, it's good that you're the only man groped but not luck.
Half an hour to find her. Like hell, we do not take the elevators, and if I stay inside who pulls me out? What an idiot death. Scale velvet stairs but still, hundreds of them. Noon. Here it is. Deuxième étage, Suite Sharon Stone.
- Permit? Puis-je entrer?
The room was empty. The tents will be fluttering out the terrace. Luciano came out on the terrace. She, indeed! Leaning casually on a bottom of champagne to shine in the sun. Behind and around her disappeared the palms of the Promenade.
- Hello.
- Hello, Monica
- Now you're convinced, they were in heaven?
- you are now. But you, because you're in hell?
- Ah ha! - That wonderful smile, that grace - you do not understand yet what it is, what was your life? You do not have understand the representation of the world that was around you? Did you really think God was so mean to hurt so many? Disease, abuse, pedophiles, death camps, torture. Thou hast lived, those tragedies? How much you suffered, you really, in these fifty years? Not the death of your mother or your friend or some terrible stories of newscasts. I tell you, personally, how much you have suffered in life?
But that conversation is this? What are you saying? "Wondered Luciano baffled. But it is a messenger or Monica? He found the strength to reply:
- Well, I suffered a lot, with renal colic ...
- Ah, renal colic, of course. Poor thing. Then including appendicitis, right? The script was not credible. Do not you realize that your whole life has been a screenplay, a seemingly endless fiction? In fact the whole world around you was an illusion, a film in all possible dimensions. The pain, however, never existed, you were represented, narrated, to challenge, to see which man would become, with good and bad that every day you were offered a choice. Free will but to a certain point. Did you have around you a world where crowds have always prevail. Do you remember the contest from the Director of your bank, that place that was meant for you that you were the best of all, at school, such as the University, but always some son of a recommended or skip forward, and members of committees with smiles of those circumstances to get around. How bad were you there when you discovered the mail for a recommendation of the Minister, do you remember, right? Yet even for a moment you thought to blackmail, to surrender, to listen to your friend John, who told you "if you can not beat the enemy, goes to the enemy." No, you're hard, honesty, whatever the cost, morality, altruism, equality, the liberal left, the meritocracy. We were given every day the possibility of a better life thanks to the evil, deception, dishonesty. The world that we have created around did not seem to give you choice. You would have also been able to read that your neighbor's daughter's Lolita, a beautiful flower to pick just blossomed. But you do nothing, firm in your principles.
adamant.
Santo.
You were a saint. Lay, I believe, with the Church that we have made available, then. And all those other religions professed by more hatred with love. But now you know, the Saints do not agree or popes or ayatollahs. How many do you have endured, dear Luciano. But now you've won. Let's go, you need to collect the prize. The world is empty. We're going to repopulate ...
.
