"It is off the sun and you're off the person who" sang Celentano between the grooves of old vinyl that I listened to my mother as a child, sitting on stone steps the beach house.
But the sun seems never to be extinguished in the land of wind and insists conceited on the backs of the last few vacationers who play beach tennis and reading novels, sipping the liquid well publicized free of synthetic mint granita.
pedal on the promenade of new roundabouts and flower beds, with trousers rolled up and cap, looking for news on behalf of a magazine whose name beaches of Italy, knows of sand in the cuffs of his trousers and grilled fish at 'open. With me, a camera, a notebook of paper label and a mobile phone. Illusion, 'door, an unlikely contact with the world.
"Write to the beaches is working for you!" I assured her friend historic sangria in front of a large glass. And look for news from the umbrellas closed can be more stimulating than an afternoon in the company of a Russian who speaks English worse than me and does not know a word of Italian.
From the street signs of businesses leaving the challenge after seasonal argue until the last swimmer while someone is running out to clean chairs and beds and dream of winter in Polynesia.
I stop to take some pictures and a woman with white hair and earrings old bill is approaching with a smile of someone who has something to talk about.
"To see you I can think of one word, independence !" Attacks. "And freedom! "He adds.
I imagine Lady Liberty in New York Harbor, with seven-pointed crown and torch.
smile at her.
The woman approaches.
"Yesterday I made eighty!" He says.
less I could have sworn, I think looking at the life pulsing in her eyes still bright.
He tells me of her. Of his struggle to be free. His disbelief of being aged. The face of aristocratic, austere and sweet as the women of the past. The calm voice, pauses to look for the right thing to say, with the air of one who feels that the time deadline does not allow corrections or retractions. I'm fine with her. She says her name is Loredana. He caresses her hair. I let her do. "I took them so long, you know," he says touching the tip of her perfect coiffure hairstyle. Sessions covered up on the wall just past the summer we enjoy the air of another afternoon that goes away.
Autumn has already made his entrance and steal a few minutes of light each day, I think. Soon the country will wear its colors. A color scale of red and yellow paint next to the fall foliage and the smell of chestnuts on the fire will give a new flavor to the streets in the city.
"Freedom is to change your mind "I agreed with one day a friend of blog," ... and to reverse the order of the seasons, "I add. And even if the first of the evening mist announces the time of his boots and turtleneck, I swear I saw a field of primroses, farther on, where someone is preparing for the holiday.
Antonino Votto 
Symphony Orchestra and Chorus of RAI Turin 
Anita Cerquetti · Mirto Picchi · Petre Munteanu · Piero de Palma · Miram Coro e Orchestra Sinfonica Pirazzini 
The charge of theft and / or plagiarism is not correct and I as these back with determination and demand at the same time the author of this allegation - Pierre Ceccaldi - hereby, to avoid this false declaration with immediate effect. In the event of infringement, I announce precautionary action to. 
The name of the - keep Grace - mistakenly accuse echauffierten found ... anywhere. Having resulted in the assertion 
09 
The published short discography of some more or has been commercially available recordings will now really is not an original - and thus protected by copyright - plant capacity dar. That the discographies of the website and blogs are largely the same: what a surprise ? - We have not even 20 full shots. 