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Alessandro Nardin

Bad Invisible Teachers

Bad Invisible Teachers

Copyright © 2012 Zerounoundici Edizioni

ISBN: 978-88-6307-465-9

Cover: Image Shutterstock.com

Just call me Lucifer

# Causes I'm in need of burdens restraint.

#

#

#

#  PROLOGUE

I don't have name.

And of certain none of those belongs me with which persist you to call me. Trash of ungrateful and deceptive epithets: that with which am more known means" he who separate" and have buckled him/it to me, that have tried to gather Creator and Creature through the pure bite of an apple instead in the Garden of the Eden!

Of however it is not guilt of you, you give birth some man if so much confusion has been outcast to strength in your pumpkins from the Creator.

Because He is the Father of everything. You/he/she has created me and you/he/she has created you. You/he/she has created the truth and you/he/she has created the lie. It is the origin of the world and, so you/he/she had said once, his same end. An end more times announced and as many denial, first threatened and then retreat, believable by now as the resignations of a political.

You/he/she has taken us taste, the Old one, to his/her beautiful toy.

And while He makes a fool of him I pay.

I pay the guilt of the rebellion, her before, the most heroic. I pay the guilt of the sincerity, the only one, true deadly sin.

Don't you believe me? For strength, for you the devil lies for definition. It lies even more when it says to be sincere.

You listen then to what I have to tell you and then you will judge from you.

I don't have intention to bore you with complaints and wailings, neither to stun you with bizarre philosophy or hermetic literature. Also in that sense I have already given.

Forced to the anonymity, more times I have tried to make to hear my voice, without nobody knew how to recognize her/it. I hid me in the shade in which I was thrown to strength and so I made capolino without never revealing me.

But I rarely had fortune, I was almost ever understood and however recognized never.

Once I was successful only, when I assumed the identity of a drunkard English that he/she frequented theaters to tag after equivocal actors, a poor thing that was not able of to write twice his/her name in line in the same way.

For the rest, if you go to see nine on ten of the books less beds to the world, here: they are mine.

This time however it will be different.

Dummy is enough: I will write me in first person. And I won't speak to you of maximum systems in incomprehensible languages.

The time is slow, the time of symbols and enigmas you/he/she is ended.

It will be a simple history a history that speaks of you and to you, that are my brothers.

Since also I have sent between you my dear Child, in which I/you/they have been delighted. Rather, since I didn't want to be from less than the Old one, I have sent two of them: two brothers, two twins, hidden inside the world, hidden also to themselves.

They doesn't know anything of their mission and not even you. But at the end my sketch will triumph and the first light will return to shine where today they reign the darkness.

Since, if so it was not, you can believe me: of you, last epigones of the old Sapiens, trace some won't stay.

It aches me to announce you that your end has already been definite.

The world, precious toy too much for the Creator, it will continue without you.

The first time is not certain: similar fate was already touched to the dinosaurs. It had a good time as a crazy person, with that lucertolonis decerebrati, in perennial struggle among them; you/he/she had done he/she waits for the biggest fools and sleepy, while the smallest snarling and cruel, to pretend of the fates of the meetings make balanced.

Then, as understands to every child, he stewed, and from the today to the tomorrow definite to make plaza of it cleaning up: a beautiful stone from the space, a big bonfire and street! The ready world for new kinds.

With you, unfortunately you/he/she has still had, less patience: you have disappointed him/it after few million of years. It is not boredom: simply it finds you too much independent. You have walked too much in hurry with your legs. And you/he/she has decided to punish you.

But this time no cataclysms.

It will do a clean job: it will place you in hand the gun fumante and it will point out in you, only in you, the persons responsible of your same extermination.

The dripping has already departed and well soon nothing can arrest him/it.

I know him/it that you don't believe me, I know him/it that you still think of me the same essence of the lie.

If not to me, then you will believe in them, to my Children, that are as you.

Sceptic, ambitious, rebellious. But, if you/they can act unmolested, they will open the street of the salvation to the humanity.

Their history speaks the language of all you and it unties him in a well known world.

Their history starts now, in an office, to the seventh floor of a modern building in the doors in Milan.

# Chapter 1.

The great glass door that served as wall and window leaned out on a similar building, opposite which reflected in turn on its surface it nearly polishes the crystalline outline of another identical, adjacent to another, and to another anchor. A forest of thirty floors.

Hidden among the leafy branches of glass and cement, surrounded by the chirruping of telephones and by the frinire of printers, a head office spoke. And another person, for the time being, he/she listened.

«Because he/she sees, Miss.»

You/he/she had repeated him about ten times, as if it served him to take breath and to leave again, risking himself/herself/itself in managerial soliloquys with farcitura esterofila: key account, sales engenieer, imprinting, environment. It sprouted even an unpublished behavioural finance.

It was the usual ostentation of professionalism of doctor Cesana Enrico, manager marketing of the Furnaces Pharmaceutical S.p.A., in front of which expanse sat and resigned Helen Sastri.

The girl attended the end of the exhibition of the manager, which, trying not to make to be surprised, she caressed her/it with the look along every centimeter of the body. A body that the touching fragrance of the most perfect youth united to the rapacious femininity of the woman exploded to the life.

The black shoes left the neck of the foot, that softly drove the look from the ankle to the knee open; few over this, too much few over, the edge of a skirt I sky, combined in suit to a jacket that attended on the clothes-stand, it swallowed as a gallery indesiderata the crossed legs.

The thin bust was covered by a white blouse in silk, so much light to make to believe to be transparent. A laced button, two, three. The quarter left the skin of the breast open, almost up to the joining of the breast.

The face was sincere, the wary eyes, chestnut, swaying and full hair, smelled of clean, and they freed in the air the aroma of that balms able to turn on ashamed desires in whoever you/he/she had not been afraid of it.

You were everything this and also more.

Bella. Simply beautiful.

Have I perhaps exaggerated in my devotion for Helen?

What you want it stuffed: I adore her/it my favorite Daughter.

«Then, welcome on board, Miss Sastri.»

Helen also listened to those last words. They were those conclusive those that enacted his/her assumption. Yet it welcomed her with incomprehensible separation.

It observed the manager's hand stretched out verse of her. It got up, scavallando the legs.

«Thanks.»

It returned the hold. An asexual formalism reigned in that room. A professional separation able to put every to his/her ease.

The manager got up in turn.

«I accompany her to the door.»

The gallantry required by the business protocol could hide very well every desire. Anybody movement would have betrayed the pleasure of Henry Cesana in to approach the hand beside the girl, to graze as soon as the blouse, to realize its fold of the life under the fingers.

It completed the work suffering her jacket the clothes-stand and returning him her.

«We wait for her tomorrow. You pass first from Cinzia, one of our clinical assistant. It will accompany her to his/her new office and it will give her the whole informative material around his/her first medicines. It will have the whole time to study them to him with calm.»

As it was reassuring, almost fatherly. Of however it is useless immediately to terrorize the mole assumed,: they will have the whole time to know the unreasonable intolerance of their heads and to warn. Before then, enough some affability to get as also from them is desired.

Helen had brought by now his/her hulling away from the building, leaving that the office ripiombasse in the usual grayness.

But Cesana had remained alone for few minutes, since another visitor had entered silent, you/he/she had almost given the change to the new assumed. He it was one of the little that could afford to intrude himself/herself/themselves in Manager Marketing's dominoes without not even knocking.

Cesana had had only the time to lift the eyes, and the elegant and solid figure of Charles Pezzali was protected from now on him.

«Doctor Pezzali» it said amazed. «I didn't expect me for this visit. Not often understands that you teachers condescends you to meet us dealers.»

Charles Pezzali was the manager of the clinical laboratories, a man of almost fifty years, of which more than half devolved to the search. Under his/her guide, near the Furnaces Pharmaceutics was developed a creative and efficient team to image and similarity of the creator.

«I have seen to go out of here the doctor Elena Sastri. Well, is it of ours now?»

The severe look crossed from the tall one that of Henry, still sat to the table. These he felt subjugated by that rigid face, essential, almost graven in the stone. A rounded off face but well few amiable, which the grey hair trimmed to the root and the leaning cheekbones conferred a rigor that well few granted to the liking.

«It knows Helen Sastri?» he/she asked confused.

The researchers didn't usually interest leastly him in the assumptions of the commercial ones. And, naturally, vice versa. But there was something in that question that went over the simple curiosity. It was as if Pezzali already knew the answer.

«Not personally. I know that it had to sustain with her the last interview.»

«It is exact» it admitted.

«Therefore you/he/she has been assumed.»

«Yes, certainly.»

«Well. Very well we have made a good choice.»

Cesana started to become convinced him that nothing in that interview by now you/he/she would have had to surprise him/it. Nevertheless it tried to make to be clarified the ideas.

«I would not like to insist but I had asked her if it knows that girl.»

The researcher didn't decompose him.

«He/she sees, Cesana": that girl", as you/he/she has called her she, is a young promise of the search, one of the most elastic minds and recettive that the university in Milan has given to the productive world.»

«Search?» It interrupted him/it the commercial one. «But she is not introduced as researcher.»

«I know him/it but talent is an universal value. What counts is that none of the competition can take advantage with the best elements. The genius is correct that I/you/he/she remain in family. And on the qualities of Helen Sastri I have also had reassurances from the university environments.»

«Yes, I know him/it» it hastened to specify Cesana. «I have received the letter of introduction of the chairman of the thesis of Helen. The teacher has been very flattering.»

«I didn't report me to the formalities of the chairman» it specified Pezzali frustrating once more the colleague. «That old baron is able only to put signatures and to box checks: you/he/she has seen Helen practically alone for the proclamation. I report me to professor Emilio Ricciuti, the person responsible of the laboratory of genetics in which you/he/she has made the internee. One that has had the opportunity of working to narrow contact with her. It is a friend and you/he/she has been very persuasive: I could not disappoint his/her expectations, and I/you/they are personally activated me because everything went to good end.» A break, imperceptible. Then a sentence. «It was essential that Helen Sastri was assumed near of us.»

Cesana boxed the hit. That that one prerogative of his considered had been climbed over in so scurvy way.

«But she has never spoken to me of Helen.»

Almost reading him in the thought, Pezzali hastened to encourage him/it.

«You don't worry him Cesana. I have not invaded his/her field in any way: the worth of the assumption is his. There was no need to speak to her of the doctor Sastri.» It underlined the title and the last name correcting the unworthy excess of confidence of the interlocutor. «You/he/she has been enough for me, as to say, to put his/her curriculum on top of the list of his/her candidates. I knew that a bloodhound as her would not be made to escape the taking.»

It risked an irony, so much less flattering than it seemed to Cesana, that smiled pleased.

«And so you/he/she has been, doctor» he/she affirmed with pride.

«Then I leave her/it. I beg only me not to make mention to the doctor of this conversation of ours.»

«Any problem.»

«Well. It will have the opportunity of verifying on the field the quality of the new purchase.»

«Certainly» it added to the address of the manager that had already turned his back. And once that these it overcame the door, it added among the teeth «I Hope to discover very soon it.»

It was only now finally Henry Cesana, sunk in the revolving armchair in dark skin, with the lost look over the window.

Reflected in the glass, its coarse face appeared, a baluginio of vitalismo defeated in the green eyes; a body in undoing, despite the attempts to preserve it that three times to week it completed in gym, a forehead that conquered footstep footstep the ground on the black hair in rout. It was a man, a gotten married quarantenne, with his/her/their wife how much with the job, with a manager physicist marketing, that could idle about now in thoughts between the licentious one and the affaristico.

It was a winning assumption, that of Helen Sastri; the awareness of this went over the discourses of Charles Pezzali, that its pride was starting to push in the oblivion. And it also went over the open edges of skin of the new arrived, whose fragrance didn't stop inebriating him/it.

The bank drafts were excellent: degree with praise in biology, a popular thesis in genetics from the title You Drosophila as I model for the study of the human genetic illnesses. A bright letter of introduction of the chairman, to plot the dowries of ductility, obstinacy and tenacity of the nominee. He/she still remembered the first interview: from those turgid lips that were rhythmically disclosed it went out well more that the rigid exposure of a curriculum.

It was pleasant to feel her/it, since with the hearing also the sight, the sense of smell, even the touch, in short, the senses all were tickled by that presence.

Able to make to digest every rambling speech, every cold and boring computation: this is the makeup of every seller, this the makeup of every winning. Since winning it is born, never he becomes.

Beautiful and winning.

You/he/she would never have assumed a latrine, even if you/he/she had also had best bank drafts.

But whether to be ashamed of it? After all it is what you/they do all,: this is the world in which is accepted in silence that the beautiful ones have salaries between ten and the winds for one hundred taller than the ugly colleagues.

Certainly it is not guilt of the ugly ones to be born ugly, he repeated. But it is a defect of manufacture however. In the marketing the defective piece brings him to the mother house and he changes. In the life of the men, no.

With Helen Sastri you/he/she had chosen the best. It was so easy to become convinced himself/herself/themselves to have done him/it for the good of the firm and not to satisfy his/her own lust.

That evening would have gone home, you/he/she would have embraced his/her wife, satisfied to have completed once more his/her own duty. You/he/she would have dined, watched the television, put to nanna his/her children.

You/he/she would have gone in bed and the light would be extinguished soon: you/he/she would still have been too excited for serenely reading the newspaper.

His/her wife lain down to his/her side would have caressed him/it with the hands softened by a moisturizing cream. Together with him, still vivid in the sense of smell, the fragrance of the young skin of Helen.

And she would have appeared under the covers, to the dark: you/he/she would have been that the mouth that at that time would have sucked him/it in obscene way, as he liked it. You/he/she would have been far the heat of a kept body, for fear that the touch could reveal the deception.

You/he/she was suffered, the mouth welcomed subdued the product of its pleasure; later it turned immediately him on the other side. It fell asleep satisfied, emptied of every disturbance, neither it allowed that the smothered hiccups of a humiliated wife could upset him the sleep.

# Chapter 2.

It was a moderate day of beginning spring, an adorable season even in the directional centers. When the cold withdraws him, the sky becomes brighter than its same reflex in the walls of the skyscrapers, the perfumes of the pollens and the hormones wander in the air fraternally entertained by particles of thin dusts, the plants return to dye him of life, thanking with the green the man that has left them that meter picture of earth among the sidewalks to stretch the roots; and the women few to few they discover him relegating in the attic the heavy cloths androgens that insult their beauty.

It was a day pervaded by the indifference as so many. As everybody. A day articulated by automatisms as that of Helen to turn on the jail cell to few footsteps from the car.

You/he/she was gone out in all hurry of the office of Cesana, without not even being him turning to lavish a smile, a look, a gratification to the middle quarantenne that so much work had lavished for resulting attractive.

How many formal meetings you/he/she had already lived that still more than this you/they had shamelessly diverted toward gallant results. It is to how much equivocal you/he/she had delighted to lend him, you want for ambition, you want for fun, you want because indeed bewitched. It was a woman and it loved to enmesh, to dominate but above all to deceive, with naturalness and without wickedness. It loved the pleasure, that rejuvenates the minds maintaining her fanciful and creative besides stimulating the senses.

But it was not this the case, neither you/he/she would ever be been able him/it to be. Zero imagination, zero seduction; and not so much because the poor Cesana was so worse of many that had tried to report him with her.

It was the context: in that hurry from office, the veiled offers of the doctor could not deserve winks useless, neither false courtesies, perlomeno not now. You/he/she had been assumed, it was for now a pharmaceutical informant on behalf of the Furnaces and so much it was enough.

It was what wanted, from still before ending the university: the job and the money. A job from which the money, without hypocrisies: to be to the world and to be well us, necessarily passed of there. And a pharmaceutical informant doesn't earn badly.

These and other thoughts trapped her/it in that angle of industrialized province, with a shoulder Louis Vuitton and a The-phone still in hand. When digitò the PIN, was because the cellular phone started to weigh her.

And between past and present, in the immediate future a name, a face, a man attended to again have involved in his/her life.

You decided to recall from the index book that number: it made to flow the voices up to reach a name, the alone name of present baptism in an orderly list of last names.

A quiver the glances then in the hand, so much fleeting that she didn't even have the time to perceive him/it.

The phone call departed; the memorized man as Angel you/he/she would have answered within brief.

The rings extended him, inexorably outstanding; it felt then a strange excitement climb from her stomach. It was as if to give news of the assumption could upset her/it in the good or in the evil. To give news of it to him, above all, that so much had shared of his/her whole existence.

«Hi, stronzetta.»

The answer came sudden. A bold masculine voice, that gave her to his/her way the welcome one.

«To the buonora. Have I perhaps interrupted something?»

«Some that yes: you have interrupted my meditation.»

«Oh, excuse me! At least you have thrown the sciacquone?»

Laughed at taste the tenebrous interlocutor.

«You/he/she cannot be hidden you nothing, true little sister?»

«I know you from the birth.»

And it was true. Helen had come to the world first; it was still in the room birth when Angel had put out the crapino, fidgety to follow his/her sister in the new adventure. Angel: it called this way it in my honor; Helen, instead, in honor of the beauty. His/her parents thought about having made an autonomous choice; but, as all the deadly, autonomous they were not: that two names luciferini was directly rained in their heads by me.

«Then you are, inside or out?» he/she asked him pursuing her/it.

Helen didn't hide a certain irritation.

«Thing you ask me him to do? You know him/it that you/they had already assumed me. I had only to accept the charge.»

«In fact I didn't report me to them. I reported me to you.»

The irritation became resentment.

«Stop her/it with these discourses» it tried to catechize him/it. «I have already served my choice as a piece, we have spoken of it more times.»

«And is it what you wanted, correct?»

Helen delayed. It was what wanted. But because it labored so to repeat him/it once more, as if it were really that the replica of too much?

«We have already spoken of it» it still hissed. «And then it deals with my life. You are my brother, not my father, neither my husband.»

«You would have need both of the one and of the other. Your brain must be held some to brake and well driven from who would know whether to use better it.»

«To use him/it?» You/he/she could not avoid to howl calling attentions from the passer-bys back. It hastened and it tried to calm down himself/herself/themselves, at least for pretense. «It is this that you think of me, true? An investment for the future, a factory of satisfactions? For you and for all self I am always that good that passes the assignments. Beh, has done my way this time.»

They spent then endless instants of silence. Angel knew not to have to do anything else other than to attend the exhaustion of I discharge him/it. They didn't last too much never, it was not in the character.

«You have ended?» it whispered brotherly, before sinking better. «You know thing good I report me.»

Serpentine insinuation day-dreams. Helen you have to face a motion of disgust: he/she knew well it yes, an outrageous desire that had never abandoned Angel. But it hoped that, at least for affection, you/he/she would not have thrown anymore out it.

Disturbance was struck dumb her/it.

«Helen, is still there?» you have to pursue his/her brother.

«I have already told you that the search doesn't interest me.»

He/she affirmed definite.

And it was true: chairman, correlatore, assistants you launch you/they were lavished for holding her/it in the laboratory, because it continued the job on the transdifferenziazione of the cells staminali in the stroma of the bone marrow in cells of fabric neurale.

Profit for the human kind, told her, pursuing her but not profit for itself, recepiva the balky researcher. It repeated about ten and about ten times a week the same trial, with the same identical results; when it seemed that something changed it was because errors were verified in the procedure. And on every of that trials three converged, four, at times five pairs of eyes, connected to brains that elaborated again the failures, to consciences that them somatizzavano and to mouths that divulged them to ears connected to the same brains whose eyes had already seen everything.

It was from the end of the high school that didn't believe in the science as viatico anymore to resolve the evil of the world. And the show offered her from the laboratory didn't do what its doubts to fortify.

It was so that its thesis refolded toward the popular one and those flies, you already study and you exploit to the improbable one, they were I sprout him/it for a pleasant dollied on the history of the genetics of the last decades. A disappointing thesis, at the end of a triumphal ride among the most disparate examinations: of however, mine beloved calculator had realized very well not to need a genial thesis to get the maximum one some votes with praise however.

But he didn't treat only of this.

You knew him/it and Angel knew above all it.

It very still flows between the sky and the earth, dominion of eternal and unchangeable corporate body, able for wish or laxity to condition the to act some men, and, because no, the destinies of the planet. They winks, they tries, they redeems and they misleads at the same time, pure light and pure eroticism. The world them he/she wants messengers, the Creative subjects, celestial bureaucrats able render insane those people to which you/they reveal him, more for jest that for vocation. I was among them, I was the first one.

And now, a deadly that brings their name monkeys the prerogatives of it, so harshly you have been conquering on the field for the day of the creation.

For very less, others would already have been struck by lightning.

But him no. He is my favorite Child. And you/he/she is talking to her, my Daughter, the only beloved.

They can talk of sky and earth of life and death. And of resurrezione of the bodies.

«You know him/it that for us it is a disappointment to know out you» it added him.

Helen could not pretend anymore than not to understand: the abyss the he protected from now on, impossible to overcome him/it with a leap, fatal to fall you inside. To turn the heels and to knowingly abandon him/it, here is the street.

«I am out, Angel. Done a reason, your friends and you of it.»

«They are also friends your.»

«I don't want to speak of it anymore, have you understood?» it howled of anger and pain. «Hold you your follies. That that you propose me is not search: it is a crime. And I don't want to have us nothing to whether to do.»

«Ok, ok!» It tried Angel to embank that river in flood full of suffering, to soothe a herd of frightened horses to death. «Now calmed. We don't speak of it more.»

There was something in his/her voice of disarming simplicity, of rasserenante confidence, of found again intimacy. It was a warm voice, deep, from actor, a voice able to fill a stage and to also involve the most indifferent audiences. But it was also the voice of the infancy, of the puberty, of the adolescence and of the youth. and now also of the maturity; a voice that you/he/she had always accompanied her footsteps, to which it grabbed on every qual it turns you/he/she had needed it.

Angel had always succeeded in reassuring his/her sister, since when the childish fear, that doesn't understand and it fears the unknown one, had started to turn himself/herself/themselves into that deeper, more adult, that understands what it is and it has good motive to fear him/it.

As the nights of storm, diabolic epifanie of lights and dins, of of the in war among them on the heads of those people that were babies, but that, lost the innocence, they escape struggle you learn him to which are forced to assist.

And sweet Helen, escaped then, from your loneliness, from that bed that it was for you a constraint, while everything around they reboiled the elements. Of there, really in the bed close to yours, it lay serene your brother, the angel that you believed the sky had given you.

He didn't cry, he didn't tremble, almost that its ten years were more of yours.

You crawled the barefoot footsies, the cold of the floor shook your fragile body with a quiver, that salivates up to the abdomen from the legs. You slipped under those covers, you lay down you in the bed and huddled up, you stuck to his body, that aroused him.

It welcomed you in silence; a hand encircled you the life, yours it grazed its abdomen its side. The soft skin as yours emitted the heat of the life; the cold stopped, the troublesome winds, the sudden shines, the tears in the silence didn't torment you anymore.

Yet that quiver to the abdomen didn't pass yet.

«Now that you do?»

The voice of Angel broke the silence. The sky was clear, the triumphant sun; the family noises of motorists incazzatis identified a reality until too known.

The last reverberation of that quiver to the abdomen was again swallowed by the past. Now only the present, a banal, agonizing present.

«I go my home» he/she answered definite.

«You didn't have to pass to find me? You had said that we would have celebrated» he/she insinuated Angel.

«With how much you have made me turn of boxes? No, thanks. You have already ruined me the day. To house of mother I will spend another time.»

«Still in this house of mother? It looks that now it is my house» it replied him hiding the anger under a bark of affection.

«I regret to contradict you: it is and house of mother remains always. You are only a guest, if not a parasite.»

He/she sketched with brotherly patience, in front of the usual remonstrations maternalistiche of an uncertain sister still on his/her own role. It was unbearable for Angel: whatever woman enters your life you/he/she feels however always the physical need to educate you. It is troubles to affirm your independence of judgment in front of so much passion civilizzatrice.

«Mother is away» you/he/she restarted to explain for the nth time. «It is around for the world with dad to enjoy himself/herself/themselves the life. It doesn't return anymore and if it returns it will be alone for the wishes of native. Therefore, every of us has his/her own house.»

His/her own house: an apartment of one hundred and it passes meters you square in center to Milan him, a great studio apartment a bystander of the other infognato to the extreme south outskirts her. And none of the two owner: she fortunately unstitched a correct lease, he lived to I gobble up in the ancestral abode.

«You have won a beautiful terno to the lottery, viziatissimo pupattolo» it sentenced pedantic Helen.

«You could also be us you but you had hurry of andar street. And then mother is happy so.»

«And then that God has him in glory.»

Neither more attended replicas. Red button.

Closed so the conversation, with ecumenicalism and resignation, thanking the usual Old fortunate, whose name is on the mouths of all despite in an impetus of arrogance expressly had him/it forbidden once. And me, that so much has intrigued because the almost derisive lease of my dear pits, that I have given parents to their darlings that shiver of a second youth, able to bring them to turn the wonder of the planet with the enthusiasm of two fidanzatinis, freeing so for them an enviable apartment, assists as usual impotent to the praises for Him. But at the end, you will see that also they will know whom to thank: I am sure to deserve me him.

I have given them health, not resignation. I have given them intelligence, not modesty. I have given them comfort, not poverty, neither opulence. I have given them dignity, not subjugation.

But above all I have given them two parents, not a family.

And of these fortunes, you/they should be able to enjoy everybody.

# Chapter 3.

There is an obsession all human for that giochinis that repeat to the endless one the same reality imprisoned in herself as the Russian matrioskes or the Chinese boxes. You open one of them and within to attend is you of it another. A jail by the other, a wrap for wraps; the death of the escape.

The men love closing him in the cage: not only in a cage but in a cage already caged by another, that is in turn in the cage in a greater cage.

You goes out of the cage of the maternal uterus to end in that some crib, and footstep I pass he doesn't do anything else other than to reach the final cage, of which you/they become wealthy worms and becchini.

Nobody escapes: as the ants in a reliquary of glass, that you/they have the illusion of the liberty but that they don't escape the cruel eye of the naturalist that there has confined her.

There are cages grigie, narrow, disgusting, but they are also there gilded, comforting and comforting cages. One of these are the family.

You is born in family, he dies in family. You goes out of a family to enter another, simply changing of role. Fathers and husbands, wives and mothers, children and daughters, brothers and sisters. A circle, neither vicious neither virtuous, a circle as the planet on which we live, before and it completes immense cage where limits will extinguish there.

To give the good example, the Child of the Head has had a family a Sacred Family.

But what is him missed, they have been his/her parents. That asexual birth, with a fatherly figure cut out out to the last moment to save the appearances, you/he/she has cancelled every trace of the to procreate, to produce. Of the genitoreses, in short.

For my children I have thought about doing the contrary one: you/they have had two parents but I have tried to free them, for how much possible could be in this world, from the tyranny of the family.

Lovers of the life are grown, of the people, of the friends, of his/her/their relatives, from all receiving and to all giving. They are grown free from the devotion it plans but never orphan. Children of a free and farsighted love. But above all, children of the most perfect sex.

And most perfect sex is what becomes art, that the instant of his lives to be revealed himself/herself/themselves and with it it dies. As the music, the most sublime of the arts, that it fades away to die of his/her present.

They knew by chance, the parents of Angel and Helen.

Or, for better saying, the devil had put us the tail.

I adored the intelligence of that woman, Adele Sastri, and from a long time I followed with interest of it the career. Skilled journalist, wrote of chronicle and sport for one of the so many newspapers of left been born in the years' 70.

You/he/she had landed you against every possible prognostication, deprived as it was of the specific requisite democrats and antifascist in demand in that years.

You/he/she had not made the Sessantotto season that coincides with his/her most disengaged puberty. You/he/she had gone to school from the nuns orsoline, that, apart the usual calumnies upset on the undersigned you/they have had the merit to hold since that time out of their doors the velleity of the shaven ones, convinced to be able to not only manage from itself every organ of his/her own body but also the mechanisms of government of the whole world. University, has been devoured then in the four anticipated years, without never floating in the limbo of the political vote. It dared therefore to present himself/herself/themselves so in editing, with a degree in Italian literature achieved with praise, whose thesis on the usual Dante was not able certain to meet the favor of the militant editors, and with the worse aggravating circumstance that an intellectual of left could exhibit: Adele was beautiful. Bella and female, not feminist. The uterus knew very well as to manage him/it without howling him/it, also because his was an article of merit. And you/he/she had understood that the being considered object of pleasure always coincided with an exponential pleasure.

Who knows thing had thought the head editor seeing her/it to him before with an elegant skirt, a black blouse of satin, the taken care of makeup and the stretched hair. The fate had wanted that on the desk you/they had come first the bright articles and the press releases from her compiled in University for the student movements: thanks to a curious accondiscendenza, Adele turned his/her intellectual separation into neophyte enthusiasm. It seemed embodied Lenin, ready to climb himself/herself/themselves and to sacrifice himself/herself/themselves on the barricades, when you/he/she was learning only instead a language, it appropriated as a paguro of a hull, ready to leave him/it when you/he/she had considered him/it obsolete.

The editor didn't even try to bring in bed her, so much distrusted that incomprehensible, austere beauty; you/he/she put on a trial basis her, relegating her/it in chronicle, and of you/he/she didn't move anymore there her.

A couple of years after the assumption, the Olympiads in Moscow offered the occasion to the newspaper to celebrate the heaven of the proletariat and to her the possibility to escape for some. The sport was his/her competence, the chronicle also. It was therefore her to follow for the newspaper the 1980 Games, a historical edition, less sad than that of Monk but also always conditioned by the dark plots of the politics. A beautiful piece of world, for opposite reasons, it didn't accept the invitation of the Soviet imperialist, guilty to have invaded Afghanistan: USA, Canada, West Germany, Japan, China and other sixty countries remained home. Italy dorotea limited him not to send the athletes that belonged to the sporting groups of the armed forces and it unthread using the flag of the Cones in substitution of that national. They missed the humming swarms of carnivorous bugs to make proud the highest Dante for that pantomime of the mass in shore to Acheronte.

In this meeting of worlds and men, Adele stirred with boldness. It appreciated the capital of the communism to be him pleasant sort, to have striven to hide his/her own baseness and his/her own intrigues to the guests; it was so hypocritically a western mannerism that found him/it adorable.

Between a competition and the other, between an article and an interview, there was also time to stay alone. It is in one of that moments, when to listen to his/her own heart opens wide the doors of the supplest humanity, I have struck.

Adele is sat in a cafe of the Olympic village, in front of a glass by now empty, with in hand a block of the notes.

Accomplice a community that ignored her/it, one splendid Viking it approached her as appearing from the nothing. It called Glenn and it was a swimmer of the national Swede. In hand two tall full glasses of a cocktail color ruby, shining of unpredictable reflexes. He didn't even know what there pits inside: it was a gift of that imp of the waiter, to which you/he/she had asked what you/he/she would have been able to offer to the marvelous young girl sat apart. A waiter that, since the aspect, it was understood it didn't have peer in the field of the seduction, that light of sardonic separation tried him/it in the eyes and a beauty able to annihilate tastes and tendencies of whoever. Sinned that that waiter would not have more it seen again. Anybody, in reality, you/he/she would have seen anymore it again, neither, curiously, it seemed anybody you/he/she had seen before never it, when the following day the athlete had asked of him to the personnel to thank him/it for the appropriate intruglio.

Glenn sat him to the table without saying a word with a boldness welcomed without hesitations by the young Italian.

You scrutinized him/it in face, he/she read in his/her blue eyes a flattering and exciting interest. You followed with the obliging look the fold of the clear chestnut lock, that went down from the forehead until almost to cover the left eye and it arrested him on the neck to the graven attack of the deltoide. The rest of the trained physicist attended only to free himself/herself/themselves some acrylic tutaccia.

Glenn spoke to an enviable Italian: it told his/her history, of as the Italian mother you/he/she had emigrated in Sweden and him it was in love, reciprocated, of his/her employer, a refreshing of Uppsala, that had begun to work as waiter to sustain himself/herself/themselves to the studies of engineering but that well soon you/he/she had been able to notice the restaurant forgetting himself/herself/itself of calculations useless infinitesimalmente starting to count concrete money.

They didn't speak very that evening, there was no time of it. They greedily drank the liquid jewel, seduced by his/her spellbound aspect, from his/her chameleonic taste; every sip recalled in itself of it thousand others, upsetting and sinful. The two young people already went crazy from the desire.

Adele slept alone in room: it was not difficult to decide in that direction to move the footsteps once abandoned the cafe. They opened wide the door and they already started to undress himself/herself/themselves.

They were them, the luciferinis parents, those people that didn't owe even to do I strive him/it to say" yes", since the impoverished angel didn't trouble him to bring an useless announcement: they wanted what I wanted, for symbiosis of thoughts and aspirations, soaked with wish and power, of power and action, of impure action in impure action. A fact, pure and simple, to which the two young people were predestinate, conceived both bottom the sign of the most vivid and quickening original sin.

Here is the spotted conception, human, so much human; a rivulet of devastante to like conceived.

Nothing in contrary to the fertilization eterologa but the routine adopted for the blessed virgin it didn't seem me that best to send in the world my beloved; and rather than to trouble the holy spirit, resorts to the spirit, pure and simple: turbid, lubricating, intoxicating liquid that already enriched of myself her prolific harvest of seeds of the Viking one. Jailbird was the glass and who filled him/it.

They loved for the whole period of the Olympiads; they were loved subsequently, up to the end in the summer.

Then she discovered to attend. And the two was loved even more.

But they were loved with criterion and with respect. Respect for him same first of all. Respect for the issue. Respect for their worlds.

Then they separated him. And later they gathered him. Then they separated him and they gathered again him. Without never stopping loving him.

Glenn continued around in the agonismo for the world, Adele debated him between his/her own intellectual independence and the compulsory servitude to the ideology of the newspaper, embroidering precious acrobatics of hypocrisies in form of articles. They met when they were able, when they wanted, mainly in Italy, near the house of the missed in-laws.

From the ninth month they remained together with Milan.

And when Helen and Angel went out of the darkness to attend two enthusiastic parents they found them, four grandparent adoranti, two simpaticissimis Swedish uncles, so many friends that did to competition to cuddle the new ones small arrivals. And two worlds to be known, to appreciate and to contest, in which to always grow equal and always different.

From father, the icy kingdom of the efficiency and the suicides, from mother, I him/it amateurish of the Mediterranean cuorcontentis.

They lived for three years in Italy, then two in Sweden, then again in Italy, and Sweden welcomed them every qual it turns they desired to run away from the Belpaese. His/her parents, impassioned lovers, were always near, even if not always present.

And nostalgia blew on the fires of their hearts, maintaining the flame of the love lives, of the purest love, what feeds him some healthy absences. Since the love is illusion, alive of the deceptions that we do to ourselves, it deforms the reality and it estranges him/it from our eyes: for this it is the more noble of the feelings, since it refuses the perversions of the world. Put in the cage, it withers, it is a butterfly that becomes caterpillar: habit, necessity, affection. When it doesn't degenerate in separation, malice, hate.

This way they grew my favorite children, in wisdom and age, surprising himself/herself/itself every day of new surprises, enriching himself/herself/itself of new meetings, learning to welcome the new one, the different one, the unexpected one.

Since I have given them two parents, not a family.

And of these fortunes should be able to enjoy everybody.

# Chapter 4.

The morning was by now forwarded but for Angel the day was not initiated a lot from.

The phone call of Helen had caught him/it by surprise, despite attending, when he/she anchors it was busy in the first and more private practices of the after awakening. It was not certain Helen to be early but it was Angel that for choice of life and job you/he/she could afford to reach also dreaming the hours twos figures.

While it was rearranging the suits heaped up in bedroom, it considered to the disturbances of his/her sister.

Angel had still dared. Alluding, you/he/she had wanted once more to involve her/it in a world that she had refused. A secret, dangerous and immense, it imprisoned both, and to that secret which he was devoted it aspired to tie the destinies of his/her/their sister. You/he/she would never have forced her/it, never forced. Helen one day would have understood from itself; but it was soon now still.

He/she left that the desire to share with her the inexpressible one abandoned him/it and that the call of the daily necessities brought him/it to the normalcy.

It had to go out: by now it was past midday. It attended to meet himself/herself/themselves with a friend, an old friend, which had given appointment for a brunch. Admirable linguistic synthesis, was what wanted us, for him, to calm the bites of the appetite, and for its social life, to connect again threads of discourses more times interrupted.

It didn't worry him about the look: to damage of the urbanistic transformations, in the district in which he had been born and grown it still felt to house, cleared to stroll about with the same cloths that it had I set the day before, the unmade beard, the disheveled hair.

With what rapidity was changed under his eyes the old Door Garibaldi, a calm popular neighborhood that the last two decades had made luxurious and lustful. To crowning of the transformation, he/she took form a triumph of glasses and cement, dizzy perspectives that raised him, day after day, to unimaginable heights for the Milaneses.

Out in house, the direction was forced by now. Raced Chest of drawers: the stumpy vialotto that once simply connected city and station but that today it contained the impudent soul in Milan. Raced closed Chest of drawers to the cars, laughing as the jets of the fountains that had realized you, seals to custody of the irreversibility of the time.

Angel crossed after all it until, where a place rose that once would have called bakery. He/she never closed, day and night. To strive behind the bench a small crowd alternated him, among which surely not the owner. The women, all you dress in grey, you are been nicknamed" the nuns of Armani." Great discovery, the uniform for the workers: it stayed to understand as you/he/she could make the better bread.

Angel hesitated before entering. You saw reflex for an instant in the glass.

It was tall, it had an enviable physicist, but the lines of the face were camouflaged by the indifference and its prestanza by a displayed shabbiness.

Perhaps it was what wanted: to distinguish himself/herself/themselves from that marvelous clients, tanned also when it had been raining for one month changing tide of made up manikins.

They looked him/it of escaped, really because it foresees, they scrutinized him/it and they passed away. They didn't waste time to judge him/it. They didn't even lose to recognize him/it of it, yet you/they would have owed, because Angel Sastri was one of the more hailed actors of the Milanese theatrical footlight. A man of the moment for the employees.

But nobody would probably, have recognized him/it not even if you/he/she had seen him/it on the stage the preceding evening: from consumed actor, its face changed instant for instant. For him it was only this the way of celebrating the life: to be able to delude himself/herself/themselves not to have an alone of it.

When Angel crossed the entry of the bakery, to the first table in front of itself you/he/she found to already attend him/it his/her friend. What, to surprise, it was not alone.

A sign of the head among the two men. A radiant smiled by a young girl, from the long blonde and smooth hair, with a graced face and innocent, the triumph of the perfect lines of an age that he/she sees very distant every possible decline; eyes I sea they observed with admiration the entrance of Angel, which returned to her, and only to her, that smile that would never have turned to the other.

Strange, he/she thought Angel. It was a normal day of school: it didn't understand therefore as Ettore had been able to bring itself the small Laura, the smaller sister. Small, at least, you/he/she had remained in his image from when you/he/she had known her/it: an eight year-old attractive and kind child. And, for a curious joke of the habit, destined to be indefinitely such.

To the table a chair already attended him/it.

The reception of Ettore was cold and resigned. Once would have gotten up, the arm would have stretched him and the other would have grabbed him/it, to reply a rhetorical gesture that the militancy of extreme right supposed to hand down of generation in generation, to rinverdire the authentic comradeship of the Roman legions. That day instead prevailed an annoyed separation.

It was Angel to speak for first but it didn't turn him to him.

«Miss, you thing does here us? Should not you be to school?» he/she asked gallant to the girl.

You inserted his/her brother.

«Imagine: they have the school on strike, so much to change. And she has taken advantage of it: he/she wants to ask you something to start to recite.»

«To recite? It would be fantastic.» You pleasantly surprised Angel.

Laura, radiant in his/her simplicity, it was there there for saying something but you/he/she could not do him/it, because his/her greater brother parafascista was able well to afford to speak to his/her place.

«I have told her not to come but you/he/she has insisted» it added Ettore.

«Because it would be never due to come?»

«We have to speak of things that don't concern her/it.»

«Already» he/she ascertained disappointed Angel. «Politics.» Its look abandoned that of Ettore, finding shelter in that of Laura. Angel knew that the politics would have been in the foreground but it was not waited for a street of escape you/he/she was offered him: now that so much neighbor saw her/it to recognize its impatience, you/he/she hated more still the idea to make himself/herself/themselves contaminate from so scanty matters. «There is not more nothing of which to speak.»

A new hurry pushed him/it to definitely close the games.

You/he/she could not already bear the idea of rhetoric pasteggiare and ideal, from the moment that its escort was already dried up by a piece and the drought of the modern times it was not able certain to help to regenerate her/it.

And then Laura, with that curious and serene look, in his/her thoughts it was already something more of a simple diversionary. It was there, in simple attended. Its modesty deserved only attentions, its silence made her/it a rare pearl in a world of trombones.

They already impended in fact the clashes of the revolution.

«Then you have decided to go. You have also betrayed you, at the end.»

Once, only the word betrayal would have done him/it go off standing, ready to cancel the shame with the blood. Betrayal: evoked uncomfortable ghosts, from Badoglio to Ciano, from the King to Gianfranco Fini. That day, a weak indifference grazed him/it as soon as.

«I have not betrayed, since there is not anything to be betrayed.» Lie: you/he/she was betraying himself, in reality, really in that instants. And it betrayed the beauty, he/she thought, grazing Laura with the look.

Ettore had already begun a monologue arrembante on the honor, the values, the tradition. But those words already lost him in the nothing: Angel was found curiously attracted by the hands of Laura. Anemones sinuous, they caressed aritmicamente the cup of the coffee by now empty; they seemed intente to intrecciar flowers. Ofelia, sweet victim of the wars, of the avarices, of the conventions: the honesty of your feelings must be defended by every ugliness.

«You don't think about our corpses anymore?» Only the intrusive hold on the arm dared to dissuade its thought from Laura to conduct him/it to them.

The corpses.

Boys torn from the life because rich and grazed gentlemen you/they could confer upon some title of Honorables and bearer documents. And the mass of the activists accepted the role, convinced to dress again him of a mission salvifica.

«Ettore, the times are changed: the punishment is not worth to die for the ideology anymore» (to Die, to sleep, to dream, perhaps.)

«For the idea, cazzo!» the comrade bursted out. «The ideology leave her/it to the companions. We defend ideas, values.»

«Values, say?» For a last time he/she was still wanted to grant a spun discourse. A synthesis, four slogans would have been enough. Ofelia attended, honest as beautiful. It deserved protection, it deserved devotion, it deserved to like. «For you it is a value to unsheathe the swords in defense of the statuettes of the presepio? Have you ever felt to belong you the country against the assisted fertilization? (In the convent, in the convent!) And at the same time, as did you feel yourself about defending the mercimonio mafioso of a leader that you have been to have to love, (Not you leave your honesty) or to justify the sand-banks reserved to the puttanes of regime? (Alone with your beauty.) Do you remember yourself when to the averages we wrote on the benches" V and V?" For us he/she wanted to say" to win and we will win"; at the most you/he/she can mean now" veil of it and vaticano." But it is not even perhaps your guilt: the same world has buried those that you call ideas, so you are forced to take her in loan from who has more rooted of it of you. Or from who has more frivolous of it and you/he/she can sell more of it.» There was an instant of silence. The eyes of Laura you fix in his, his/her mouth more times on the point to open himself/herself/themselves and to steal his/her soul from them. «I repeat him/it to you for the last time: I/you/they have gone down from the barricades. (In the convent!) And I don't have intention to go up again you anymore.»

Ettore threw down the last sip of the cappuccino as if you/he/she had preserved him/it for the surrender.

«Then we deserve there the humanity that we have. Imbelle and corrupt.»

The humanity recalled in cause instigated in Angel the last rebellion.

And he/she spoke, and I spoke through him.

«The humanity will be never able to improve him, not until the man it will exist. Only a leap over the man himself can allow us to revive. And on this walk I have never stopped proceeding.»

This and an all it took is greeting silence it fell on that table. It was to close now.

«Then we go» it said Ettore and it got up. With the look it attended Laura.

«You go, I reenter later.»

An unexpected rebellion, doubling of defeat for the brave warrior. It was the first time that her voice played again in that mess.

«His/her mother doesn't want that you do you delay.» To evoke the auctoritas, although stucchevole, is effective often in the world of the men. But never with such a banal evocation.

«It is midday, we are in the heart of the city and I am not alone: there is Angel with me. You know him/it that I had to speak to him: I have not interrupted you, I have let you discuss some problems. Now however it is my turn.»

Ettore attended anchor faking not to have suffered the outrageous frown of his/her/their sister. He/she thought that a severe look all it took is for redeeming her/it. He/she thought us Laura about to close him every small opening.

«Ettore, please: not to force to add me that I am not a child anymore!»

Coup de théâtre! Natural talent, in front of which Ettore was not able whether to capitulate. The conversation didn't belong him anymore.

A sign of the head, a distant regard. You dispersed silent, leaving them alone.

«Forgive him/it. It is always so possessive» it was the justification of Laura.

«You/he/she has always been him/it» it liquidated Angel the matter. «We come to us, now. From how much I have understood, you want to begin to recite.»

«Yes, it is from so much that I wanted to try us seriously.»

«Now yes that the conversation does him interesting. Do you know then that I tell you? We take something and let's put us comfortable.» It got up with a leap; the boredom of a little before it was enfeebled. «Thing I bring you?»

«Nothing, thanks you. My mother waits me for lunch. Rather I still have to pay my coffee,» she responded, while in the bag it looked for the wallet. «And also that of mine.»

«Calm, I think it me» it felt him say. Lifted the look, it perceived that Angel had already disappeared; you/he/she found again him/it in line to the bench, where you/he/she quickly recovered a pair of flat colds. It immediately returned to the table, accompanied in every footstep by the look of Laura, until he didn't sit.

«Good appetite.» It almost seemed to exult and, to so much enthusiasm, Laura could not hold back a giggle. «Because you give back?» he/she asked her, accomplice and had a good time.

«Forgive me» she began. «You have made me come to mind how much foolish have been in all these years. This scene, to eat with you, to attend to feel to speak to you: he/she remembers me so much the first time that you came to supper to our house. I was still a child, I had not ended the elementary ones yet; you studied anchor, however you talked there the whole evening of your appointments to the theater. It seemed that I didn't follow, it seemed that with the head I was lost in my world of games. I dreamt to open eyes instead; I gave life to your descriptions, with me protagonist, and with you to my side, to help me, to sustain me to recommend me. You spoke of the applauses that you received and I already started to feel them; and for magic here that also me, wound in thousand colored lights, I received them together with you.»

Then angel applauded. Few, slow, felt pulsations of his/her hands they closed the discourse, pronounced with so much transport.

«Beautiful test, already from great actress, indeed.»

Laura remained disorientated.

«But I didn't want to recite» he protected. «I have not done anything else other than to tell you the truth.»

«No, I pray you: not to break the spell!» Angel was already in desk. «It doesn't care if everything that were true that have told or if you were you him invented to the moment: it is as you have told him that you/he/she has made him/it alive. This is what it is waited for the public by us: the makeup to be a good actor on the scene is to never go down from the scene. In the life it is never stopped reciting. And more characters you embody, more you succeed in living. It is more you succeed in living, greater you will be as actor.»

«But so nobody will be more himself.»

«The world is annoyed of the himself. That's why he/she reveres us. Do you see him/it to you a Tom Cruise himself? In pajamas as soon as awake, without heels? We can accept him/it because his/her life, as stupid as ours, it perfumes us of vanilla, because we know that soon it will go down in his/her playpen, it will start and it will dart away on his/her jet. The himself behind the cerone I believe that I/you/he/she don't even exist.»

«But you exist. True?»

The great actor allowed to hang in the void the question as a conjurer that you/he/she allows to levitate his/her assistant.

«If I told you him, I would stop being the actor of the moment.» With a hit of wand, the magician hid the makeup. «You feel, we do this way. Do you have appointments for tonight?»

«Appointments?» What an unexpected application. What to answer? «No, anybody.» It opted for the truth, sufficiently made theatrical from the embarrassment.

«We have a resumption de The game of the parts. I make you find two tickets in box, I record them to your name. You bring who want. Then, to end show, counts up to thousand, give me the time to change me and wait me in the foyer.»

Laura was about to give voice to thousand emotions, when to brake her/it providential the trill of his/her jail cell came. It observed him/it with coldness.

«It is my mother» it murmured disappointed. «It is better that goes, now» it added without still answering. «Thanks of everything.»

You bent, the sweet Laura. Long blonde hair caressed the forehead, the face, the neck of Angel; delicate as the wings of a butterfly, the lips grazed its rough cheek.

Frightened by his/her same audacity, it was addressed fast to the door. Correct the time to mention a yes with the head when Angel renewed her the promise.

«Remembered of tonight.»

# Chapter 5

The Old man detests the actors. It is a natural reaction: it is as a jealous director of his/her own role, a playwright that ache bears the personalismis of its characters.

And the actors, unfortunately, of this hate you/they have always suffered the consequences.

Accursed stock, sluggish race, banished by the religious comforts, opposed, ache born, if not for the brief necessary time to extract a smile, or to shift a tear. And, after dead, buried in desecrated earth.

The common ethic condemned them: windmills of shame, lasciviousness, lust. Disguised men that arrange him for vice between them, women that exhibit corrupt faces and perverted by the makeup, that an evening lies later with Clown and the evening they are granted without Clown reservedness, and in the meantime, away from the footlight, him voluptuous sollazzano with Colombina. Children, you tear from the road, you immediately wean to the art and first anchor to the sex.

Yet people rambled for the strolling players, able also only for few to dissuade the common people from his/her own poverties. Applauses in face and contempt to the shoulders.

But the Old man has well other motives to hate them: not certain the perversions. He/she knows well that, in as for iniquities, its satraps in earth are not second to anybody.

Your problem is that the actors escape from the cage.

You/they have understood the game the actors. You/they have understood that the life, that escapes of hand, riagguantata goes and enjoyed not in an only direction, bending the head to the strength of the tides that drags her/it I pour the death, but explored in every dimension, in every sense, from every angolatura.

The actor wanders free for the endless universe et husks: Guy can be later Caio one day and Sempronio the day. And the day later anchor, Guy, Caio and Sempronio can be alive all and three in the same instant, in the same individual.

And this the Old one doesn't bear him/it: the actors are imprisoned that they run away, I am pedine that stirs against the rules, they are more cunning guinea-pigs of the expectation, that make you unpack the experiment at the end.

And, prank among the pranks, today the actors are not ache anymore you approve. Not only: I am almost deified by the populace that with few is satisfied. Modern Ierofanies, steal the stage from the same Creator, that for this rosica. You have disappointed him/it, I have already told you him and I repeat him/it to you.

And Him, from his/her celestial stage, abandoned as a cesare on the triclinio of clouds, struggle in vain against the anger and prorompe, between squassi of thunders and glare of lightnings, in the hot tempered cry.

«I have punished you!»

But nobody feels him/it, because down there, in a small theater in Milan, an impudent beau assumes him to God, test to appear superior, test to look with solemn separation the prank perpetrated to his/her damages by the affections to him more darlings. He believes to have understood the game but it again succumbs to his/her cage, it reenters to precipice in his/her jail, it puts again the mask on his/her smooth and perfumed face, on his/her hair impomatati, on his/her room jacket in red silk.

It is prorompe in the same cry.

«I have punished you!»

A cry that reaches straight the heart of whom listens to him/it, that renders him an ovation at the end.

Leo Gala has just lost. Angel Sastri has won. You/he/she has crushed.

The character is again imprisoned, it is the horned husband and disappointed, it is the loser, devoured by the fire of the jealousy. The alone actor is free, since you/he/she is the essence of the character. It is his/her vital flame and the wince of his/her nerves and it is very more of all of this: it is his/her God.

And the public applauds, since in the public of the world, all, the pagantis and mails him, I am not anything else other than characters looking for actor.

Angel Sastri received the due recognitions from the small crowd of annoyed bourgeoises, incapable to understand how much of the disguised arrows of the evening in reality it got depressed really on them; together with him the usual cast, eight men, two women, that had been sharing the success of the performance for different evenings.

After two or three calls on the footlight, Angel dismissed for inactivity the companions and the companions.

It took the corridor that conducted him/it to the camerino and it slipped you without wasting time leaving behind of itself the left half open door. Stopped the cloths of Leo Gala, in front of the mirror it was able struccarsi with the usual indifference.

Little instants later, nevertheless, an echo of the rendered applauses him him it again reached.

A peaceful applause, ironic, private.

You turned and standing close to the door, supported to the stipite as the more consumed of the actors, glances mocking a figure befriends. It seemed a character gone out of the play: a young man, on the about thirty, from the studied elegance, with the standing kept chestnut hair from some bright gelatinous substance, the baffettis and the fly on the dandy chin of one past century. Even the smile seemed planned, provocative to the correct point, not to expire in the irreverence.

«Good. Good our Pirlandello.»

Angel grinned in to see him/it.

«Thing you have, beautiful tipetto? Have you decided to take you a blow of culture because his/her mother the bunk has not prepared you yet?»

«It is your mother that the bunk is preparing me. Then when I arrive I do her/it amuse some.»

You/he/she was introduced so Emilio Ricciuti, teacher and researcher of the faculty of biological sciences of the university in Milan, to the presence of the celebrated Angel Sastri.

Two friends of not long date but from the solid and communes you begin immoral. Few years were known through Helen before, sister of the one, laureanda of the other. Both adored her/it and with a similar premise all the other communions of intents were spontaneously in bloom.

Angel in the meantime had started over getting away himself/herself/themselves the makeup.

«Because you have come?» he/she asked direct, without losing himself/herself/themselves in suitable.

«It has to be us for strength a because? I like the theater, I like this text; I like I lead the actor protagonist but I am satisfied me.»

It scrutinized him/it through the mirror with distrust; it attended a movement, a footstep, but nothing shone through some intentions of the intruder. Angel loved that boldness.

«I am waiting» it added anchor, knowing well thing concealed him over that patina of separation.

With a movement studied in the times, it almost recited him same from a life, Emilio it inserted a hand in pocket. It drew a white envelope of it, sealed. Any heading, any sender.

Angel set aside for an instant every action, you/he/she observed reflected from now on to him the envelope.

«Well. You delay better that never» it commented.

«It completes the job, I give later her for you. Won't you want to stain the purity of this invitation with that streetwalker intruglis?»

The last cotton disk fell then in the basket of the refusals. Angel got up, without respect some for the guest. Neglecting him/it, it went to the locker and it drew the suits of it: a pair of signed jeans and a dark shirt to tall neck.

You removed with consumed ability the suits of scene, leaving that the alone briefs of adherent cotton covered its nudities. The penis seemed to quiver under the fabric that hardly held back him/it.

It had an athletic body, despite you/he/she had never made sport seriously; desultorily it frequented only the gym not to make to lose to his/her muscles that seductive sketch.

He/she remained for some lock, standing, leaving that the caresses of the fresh air the accapponasseros the skin. Everything the look of Emilio that didn't want, could not sway under the attention. The game of the parts could assume new, inexpressible rules.

You dressed again: the pantalonis, the shirt, a cotton sweater unstuck. Then the shoes, to close the work.

«Now I have ended well.» Measured footsteps conducted him/it next to Emilio. It stared at him/it in the eyes, without shames, bold and attractive. The brims the hand. «That is up to me.»

The envelope again slipped out of the pocket, direct toward the avid hand of Angel, but to the last one, as if the same receiver if it waited for him/it, you/he/she was again escaped.

«And Helen?» he/she asked allusive Emilio.

Disappointed, twice disappointed, Angel replied with bitterness.

«What it enters it Helen?»

«I thought that for this time you could involve her/it.»

"You know all about Helen", he/she thought Angel. "You have already tried there to throw her/it inside and you have failed. Now you wait yourself that succeed us me."

«You want to sweep her/it» he/she affirmed in front of the friend. «And since you have not succeeded to the times of the internee there, I/you/he/she try us with these stratagems now.»

The face of Emilio withdrew him. You/he/she could not really feel scorned by such an evident affirmation but it upset him/it the banality of the motto.

«You know well that he doesn't treat only to sweep. You know what behind our same existence is.»

The impudent seriosità disturbed Angel that, in answer, laughed. Laughed pedantic, laughed enjoying.

«You don't have to explain him/it to me. You have to explain him/it to yourself.»

«Now you offend me.» Severe words slipped on the river of laughs, that brought her in the sea of a peaceful conversation.

«Afar from me. I don't want to offend you, neither some of us. I say only the things as they are. I don't believe to surprise anybody admitting that, if it were my sister, also I would sweep me Helen.»

The trap of the confidence and both it went off they again fell imprisoned.

«Helen is unique. Not to have succeeded in holding her/it in university you/he/she has been my greatest failure. I know that you/he/she is looking for job, away from the laboratories.»

«And you/he/she has found him/it» it admitted his/her brother.

«When?»

«You/he/she has been assumed really today. Now it is an informant. By now it is out of our course.»

The pretense indifference of Emilio disappeared. Smiled mischievous.

«You are sure of it? You thing you know about the Furnaces Pharmaceutics?»

Angel was stricken but you/he/she immediately marveled him of his same surprise. Did it know the possibilities of Emilio, did it know those some organization: whether to surprise himself/herself/themselves for that pronounced name?

«Thing I should know?» he/she asked, attending satisfaction.

«Every thing to his/her time. Helen is not out still: you/he/she is ended in good hands, that you/they will know her/it to entangle, to educate and finally to enmesh. Do you perhaps believe that we would be let her/it escape this way? No, she has to unite himself/herself/themselves to us, you/he/she cannot avoid him/it, we cannot avoid him/it.»

Hunting had still opened. So many hunters for an only prey. Only that was his/her sister: how much as justification that to capture meant her/it to save her/it would have been worth?

«And such is, Brother» Angel complied.

Emilio removed him from the entry. It made a sign with the hand.

«After you.»

Angel confined to detach a jacket in velvet color purple from the appendiabiti and to wear her/it. But from there still stirred not.

«Professor Ricciuti: the envelope, thanks.»

Solemnly, as for an investiture, the candida envelope returned under the eyes of Angel.

To his/her inside few scribbles of pen pointed out the new one it covers of a long walk, initiated who knows whether to finish who knows where.

«Here to you: the address and the word of order.» Brief instructions accompanied the passage of hand. «Tomorrow we will be also guests of one of the ricconis with the villa in Brianza.» The envelope quickly slipped in the pocket of the jacket of Angel. «It doesn't need that I/you/he/she remember your maximum reservation. Burn her/it as soon as you will have read and memorized.»

It consented without saying a word: silent seal on a mute envelope. Anymore any word on the subject that evening would have upset attends him.

They were found to cross one of that corridors of service destined to the bleakness, a gut from conspirators with the scraped walls and grigie. At the end, a vernacular door antipanico opened in a more decent atrium. A last access directly conducted them to the foyer, still illuminated by two strong chandeliers of crystal. He/she anchors even populated, although the show was by now had been concluding for different time.

Distant Capannellis among them were entertained in conversations. Someone showed with discretion to have recognized the great Sastri, giving of elbow to some friend, pointing out him/it mentioning regards with the head.

From two opposite angles of the room, almost hidden in the reservation in which you/they were camouflaged, two separate figures had stirred at the same time.

Both were for Angel there and both had the right of it. But nobody knew about the other, and nobody knew that Angel could be already in company. Same angel didn't know about one of them and nothing of nothing knew the beau that at that time of Angel was the shade.

After all, the most innocent soul was really that of Emilio Ricciuti: amazed and pleased, it admired Helen to advance, bandaged of a suit of dark velvet, towering on dizzy heels.

Despite this, you/he/she could not avoid to contemplate that young delicious figure that stirred verse of them from the opposite side of the room with evident uneasiness. It was few more than a ragazzina and it exhibited entirely not his/her age aware of the attraction that could practice. A gonnellina left her open the slender and shiny legs, the abdomen exposed by little bottom the navel up to the edge of the panties in colored cotton it was not a simple mannerism of the fashion but an improper weapon to handle with a care that Laura still seemed not to possess.

Now that all were to the presence of everybody, it was really the disoriented Emilio Ricciuti to find from whether to start.

«Helen, is a pleasure to see again you» it risked, since they were months that he/she didn't see her/it.

«You know very well that it is not him/it for me.» Useless to waste delicacy for Emilio. It perhaps owed her/it to his/her brother, and to him it turned him without resentment, but not with smaller coldness. «I had promised that would be given to find you, today. But I see that you are already company.» And this last exit was accompanied by a glance of sbieco not so much to Emilio, as for the girl that was not waited for to find.

A glance that Laura recognized for hostile and that it nailed even more her to the silence.

It is in the tense and dense air, Angel, formidable amphitryon, introduced the unknown presents to the known ones.

«Expensive Helen. This is Laura the sister of Ettore. Do you remember Ettore, true? Laura this is my sister Helen. And these it is Emilio a dear friend of both. Emilio, Helen, knows already you to you.» it Laughed, the peasant, in which jest and boredom covertly cohabited.

«Some that I know him/it Emilio. Your dear friend.»

«Not to flatter too much me» it mumbled consults him.

Only to that point Angel decided to give his/her own attention to the alone one that you/he/she really deserved her/it. It was still in silence, exempted by hates and greeds, jealousies and repressed desires.

«Lauras, are happy that you have come» it softly turned him to the girl. «I had intention to introduce you the director but this evening you/he/she has not come.»

«You can always introduce her your best friend.» he inserted Emilio.

A new audacity that had the worth to disclose in the biondina shrewdness and malice.

«But you/they have already introduced us, Mr. Emilio.»

And as that untrustworthy so decent gentleman was an offense that the education didn't succeed in disguising, such a broadside to be dashed to distance the most audacious of the seducers.

Unarmed, Emilio kept silent. Disappointed, Helen kept silent. Frightened by his/her same audacity, Laura kept silent.

Angel, providential voice, improvised still in the role assigned him by the capricious fate.

«Laura, if you are alone I can accompany again you to house, so we can speak more quietly.»

«No, I thank you. I have already called my father: you/he/she is coming to take me.»

«Helen?» it relaunched polite.

«They are in car» he/she answered it dries his/her sister. «It is decidedly rather now the correct moment to get out of himself/herself/themselves of, I return. True, little brother?»

«When you unsheathe your caratterino it is always the moment to get out of himself/herself/themselves of I return. True, little sister?»

«True. Then, good night. Hi Laura.» It was the only person that found convenient to greet for name. «You/he/she has been a pleasure to know you.»

«Also for me» the young, polite and perplexed one responded.

Also without giving to see him/it, Laura had attentively observed the face of Helen and reflex had found you that of Angel. It didn't even escape a distracted eye the so narrow relative among the two. That similarity was so seductive, really because in identical lines an abysmal difference nearly resided: at the same time if in Angel a vigorous masculinity was exalted, in Helen a mystical femininity glowed.

While Helen got further, Laura admired her/it and envied her/it, especially in the moment in which it perceived that more than a man among those shed for the room you/he/she could not avoid to follow her/it with the look.

Until a jail cell it captured the attentions. As to lunch: same suoneria, different parent, exponential embarrassment.

«Excuse me, it is already my father» you have to justify him Laura. «I hoped it did later. Now you/he/she is waiting me.»

«I should excuse me for the uproar. I leave you this.» Angel looked for in the jacket the wallet; the takings and you/he/she extracted a ticket, one of the so many peers. «There are here mine you deliver, both telephone and internet. This way we are free to feel us when we want.»

«It is all right» it accepted radiant. «I thank you as.»

Almost it didn't even dare read the ticket, as if it feared to find I void him/it. There was instead everything how much promised. It missed only the name, that Angel had decided to omit; to his/her place a sentence was read: The show must go on.

It accepted a kiss on the cheek and it got further, forgetting himself/herself/itself that the courtesy required at least to also greet the other presents.

But Emilio didn't want to mind the carelessness of Laura, taken as it was to revere her culetto.

«Enchanting creature» it murmured. «Careful, old my: I feel foul smell of handcuffs for you.»

Angel sketched. You/he/she had never tried bother for the roughness of the friend. At least until then.

«Then good night.» He turned him without delays.

«Good night? I thought you/he/she could be gone to sows together. But if so much gives me so much, better going home and to preserve the strengths for tomorrow.»

Emilio departed, it almost had to obey to someone.

Angel remained still some treading the scene of the illuminated foyer.

It was the moment in which someone usually took courage, it drew near him deferential and an autograph asked him or it limited him to shake his hand, lavishing himself/herself/itself in compliments. It was one of his/her preferred moments: that of the adoration.

But that evening didn't draw near anybody. As if what upset him/it pits so evident to arouse even fear in the public.

# Chapter 6

A night without sleep is a child that he wakes up for going to school.

A night without sleep is a Greek god that whispers its destiny to the ear of the hero.

A night without sleep is a rebellious chaos: restless brains, senses allertati, reborn desires.

The order creazionista of the things is to work in the daytime and to sleep at night. And if he sins at night, it repents in the daytime. And the sanctuaries fatten up, since confession, penitence and offer are a circle that proliferates under the benedicentis you radiate some sun.

A moderate night and without sleep: now covered too much warm, now too much cold they removed the breath and they sent away every rest.

Under those covers, sweet Laura, dreams aware your destiny.

An I exult of lights it illuminates yourself the face and bottom that artificial heat you offer yourself in meal to thousand and thousand eyes adoranti. And you, attractive flower, opens the petals of your heart for a new being and they it emerges to live of you of it, parasitic of your soul, simbionte without proper forms.

To him you spontaneously offer yourself his/her victim and his/her owner.

It is behind of you, it is he who everything this you/he/she has disclosed you. Friend, brother, father: protein hero of your life, knows his/her roles but don't dare face them everybody. Not yet, small dear, you are not strong enough not to succumb.

"Thanks, Angel, if everything this was possible." You would like to tell him him, you would like to steal him from him in the ears, with tender thankfulness, to graze him/it with the lips. Follow him/it, then. You know that it is there, hidden among the scenes, proud of you.

You run away the applauses, you neglect the vanity. It is to him, in the dark, you approach yourself.

And if it were there?

His/her footsteps, evanescent, they drive you. You follow that footsteps, in the dark, in a night without sleep and without light. You don't know where they will conduct you.

The footsteps of Angel.

The footsteps that resounded on an empty sidewalk.

It was an angle in dowdy Milan that served as antechamber to that frantic, that that at night alive endless times of sollazzo.

Angel walked without dealing himself/herself/themselves of where you/he/she was, of where you/he/she went. It was the habit to push him/it, almost unwillingly, toward the meeting of happy-go-lucky playboys, riccastri annoyed in the daytime and beautiful at night, concubines from living room and from I walk.

The desires of a man are often useless distractions of which nobody can do to less.

But a man's thoughts, those, at least, they graze the authenticity.

The thoughts of Angel were confined in a bedroom, tenderly furnished, sees before distractedly so many years. In the bed, he felt, it got excited the ragazzina, uneasy and adorable.

The dreams of Laura lived in him.

He/she knew that his/her cameretta that night shone some lights of the footlight; he/she knew that in a forbidden angle of that vision, he was in trap, inconfessabile silent presence.

It attended her proud behind the scenes, exalting himself/herself/itself of the gratitude that Laura would ever have denied him: it was his/her enchantment, it was the beauty same that he offered him in gift. Eros and Agape.

In the dark of the hold road, the noises, the odors, the dirt of the life they drew near more always.

Now people went and came, you/he/she passed nearby him shouting distracted, mozzichi of recycled sentences rimpallati between men and women.

A smile of Laura was worth all the perverted laughters that that night would have borne.

Here, at the end, the light: one day pretended by the men, cut out to strength in the obscurity from the power of the money. On all of them an enormous tower impended, a gigantic index aimed threatening toward the sky. All around also adorned it of changing illuminations, a yard vertical suit to party.

To the feet, the road in permanent party: local, restaurants, discos, the consecrate temples to the cult egotist they welcomed the believers and their lavish donations. And where the opulent liturgy of the beauty is celebrated, there there was room for hordes of marvelous females, able with the art to go over what the nature had them granted, generous or parca that had been.

They were bodies patiently forged in gyms and saunas. They were young bodies and less and less suits. The hair of all the colors was a lot more than an ornament: they were a cimiero a call of war. Because to a war he was preparing all and Angel you/he/she would have gone out in the open to make to be massacred. A rape of the sabines of sun women, in which the sensual scandal of the abducted ones united him to the murderous vigor of the kidnappers, victims and executioners of them same.

It is Laura it fell asleep.

Angel reached a capannello that was assembled in front of one of the discos.

It was not a casual choice: it was there habitually that it spent his after theater, when idea to still get back home didn't graze him/it. You/he/she was convinced that there the women were more attractive, more available and freeeer. The first time was not certain that happened him to quarrel with some jealous fiancé, ringhiante capobranco to defense of the troiaggine of his/her own woman. And if the brawl has never escaped, you/he/she has always been worth of the dowries simulatorie of Angel.

You made to see from the buttafuori, that well it knew him/it, and that it did him/it pass without not even saying a word.

Inside, he/she succeeded in finding again those darkness that you/they did him/it feel to the sure one. Sure to be able to fall through his/her face in the middle of the so many that crowded the place. Sure that, in the dark artificial blush, none of his/her characters could prevail on the other dissipating the power seduttiva of his/her multiform person.

Angel advanced in the bedlam, caressing and caressed by curious and desirous looks.

The female, artificial or natural perfumes, overlapped the one to the others, not as soon as it approached to the groups of young people waiting for to decide whether to make of their time, whether to get drunk himself/herself/themselves to that table or to waddle on that cube. It did on purpose to pass nearby, because it enjoyed in to cross his/her look with that of the girls. Girls that, in to repay, they turned on their faces of a blush that nothing had to whether to do with the shame: it was the blood that began to get warm himself/herself/themselves, it was the flame of the desire that the hearts turned on and pushed them to beat to the rhythm percussivo of the music.

On the footstep the convulsive motions of the presents confused him, an inextricable torment of mass followed deep and unstoppable pulsations. Purple lights fluttered on the swaying bodies. Sounds given birth by elaborate electronic artifices seemed to originate from other dimensions to go to stimulate hidden ropes to free forgotten instincts.

Angel was ready to let him go: you/he/she was not a fun, you/he/she was a rite. The only rite of the modern world that perpetuates a primordial sacredness. In the heart of the cram, its presence didn't pass unnoticed: many eyes were sharpened on him, a lot of females, some male. He studied them all, it passed them in review gratified.

A more fidgety look of others convinced him/it. That female was practically undressed, on the skirt you/he/she opened a cleft that grazed the groin, a white top without shoulder strap left well more than to realize the nipples. The eyes were bright the left half open lips. Black loosened hair was the first ones to be caressed.

They danced so for different time, approached the one to the other, grazing himself/herself/itself as soon as and immediately withdrawing himself/herself/itself without never stopping settling.

But never a sound ever, escaped from their lips. Every word would have been vain: the words are a precious good, it is too effortless to squander her. And of certain that covering female would not have profited of it, because you/he/she didn't desire her, neither she knew whether to do him of it.

Any word for Angel, in that night.

The night without sleep.

The night when words race fast long nonexistent lines, in the air, in the electricity, in the magnetic fields. The words that night they held the correct distances away from the Milan of the pleasure.

It was a conversation to break in two the night without sleep, to cut her/it as the slash of a blade. A conversation that well few granted to the frills. Essential and cold, as an exact science. From a head of the telephone, Emilio Ricciuti. From the other, Charles Pezzali.

«I have seen Helen Sastri, this evening.»

«You won't have told her nothing, I hope.»

«No. You/he/she has not wanted to speak to me.»

«Better. You have failed, now it touches to us. It is only matter of time.»

Helen, my beloved creature. How long will your name still be pronounced in vain? How many times does he/she anchor I will have to blame the desires frustrated some people that want you imprisoned? Freed by your slavery and given to the world, given to the future, again given to me, that so much has loved you, as solo who creates can love. You are mine, and you are of the world. To the world not to escape you, since to the world I have given you for his/her undeserved salvation.

Pale copies of the Old tyrant, two biechi orchestrates of my sketch they evoke you, without nothing to know about you, if what I have them permission.

«You know, Emilio. At times I wonder me if your obsession for Helen both a good for our sketch. You have already tried to involve her and her you/he/she has called out immediately: you/he/she has made you clearly understand that our world doesn't interest her. Because to insist?»

«You/he/she has been afraid. But when it will understand it will be a good for all to have her/it with us.»

«When it will understand? And will he/she ever want to understand? You/he/she has been enough for her that you spoke to her of the embryos chimera because schifata escaped.»

«It is a clandestine traffic: you/he/she has feared only the legal consequences.»

«No. You know very well it. You/he/she has been afraid of the experiment in how much such. You/he/she has looked in the abyss and you/he/she is withdrawn aghast.»

«Also you would tremble to think about growing the Minotauro.»

«Not to be stupid. You know him/it you as he/she knew him/it her that it is not possible yet.»

«But we am working because one day is him/it. I admit: I have been wrong. I have approached her without criterion, convinced that whatever man of science you/he/she would also be torn the dresses to embrace our cause. Now you will try you, on one side, and from the other he/she will think of us his/her brother: open wide her to you the eyes, it will have to stun dinnanzi to the greatness of our work.»

«Your brother. One of the so many that it doesn't understand anything of science. He/she anchors I don't understand because we persist there to involve that whole gang of unbalanced.»

«The humanists are necessary. Us scientists we are too much rational, too tied to the detail. If we see drawn a beetle, for us it is only a coleopter to individualize and to classify. But for the Egyptian that thousand of years ago have traced him/it on a wall it is a whole world of knowledge: there are intuitions that escape our opinion and that instead the artists understand. They serve all the sublime minds of the planet to complete our work. And your skepticism confirms even more how much we need it.»

«You are perhaps right Brother. You are right on Helen, you are right on Angel.»

«Tomorrow you will know him/it. You two, together but for different streets, you will bring Helen home.»

«Tomorrow it will be a great session. A pure root has arrived from the Amazzonia. A great they swarm it will accompany us in our trip.»

«They serve all the sublime minds of the planet to complete our Work.»

«Helen is among these?»

«No. Helen is above these.»

The night without sleep again dragged in the shade the sounds. Any word illuminated the darkness, any light defeated the silence.

Helen didn't sleep, the bed caged her/it.

Helen feared the dreams, his/her same dreams, and it refused to embrace them.

The serene world that had grown her had been swept away, a slow but irreversible transformation. He/she wanted growth and possession the strength to face everything this. It had to grow or the world would have chained her/it to itself and forced to live.

You/he/she had seen his/her brother recite. As from small, to the performances of end year. As from young, with the first companies. And as then you/he/she was raced by him, serene and fair, to embrace him/it.

It loved the shiver to see to fade away every evening the beloved brother, to now change him in this, now in that. To lose him/it for an instant to feel then the joy to find again him/it.

But that evening no. That evening, it didn't see his/her brother again, the twin to her complementary. He/she didn't know who was seeing. Unexpected distractions around him upset him/it or they perhaps upset her.

A man, a chameleon, a slippery intersection that that folly called science one day could make possible. A folly from which she was already run away and that instead it kept on pursuing her/it.

The man-chameleon, eyes strabuzzati, mobile and quivering language.

The language of Angel, that at that time same he/she insinuated him among the rotten lips of an unknown vagina, that it of savory to like, that pulsated as a gone crazy heart, with the blood vases full of plasma, the nervous terminations in fibrillation.

And Helen all this knew him/it.

It was as if he/she saw, on a body without arched face and bidder, the male vigor of Angel to operate as an exorcist on a possessed. The muscles, the skin, the fleece, the member they were the hangings of the celebrant the sacred relics of a lustful religion.

In the dreamy loneliness of Helen there was the whole awareness of a grandiose destiny. It was the refusal of the unworthy one, of what could hardly approach to the height of his/her lineage.

To dream a mysticism union, to dream to fill his/her own void with the only one, other halves his/her own person. To dream the solo, possible embrace: what unites pleasure and knowledge, enjoyment and serenity.

Not an ephemeral sollazzo pursued by million of beings to the search of a friction espurgante.

Angel rode without standstill. And the filly enjoyed, you/he/she howled, without pronouncing an only word.

In the silence of his/her room, Helen turned him on the side. The thighs, the extremities of their inside skin, that more hidden and delicate, rubbed now him the one against the other; the fingers could already feel the velvety consistence of it, and to insinuate himself/herself/themselves along the street of the silk.

He/she didn't succeed in falling asleep yet, its mind and its hand prevented him from it.

It was the night without sleep. It was a child that he wakes up for going to school.

# Chapter 7

In an ample office, there were four postings of job. Three were empty, one no.

It was the open space reserved to the informants of the Furnaces Pharmaceutics, and while the three senior they were in mission, Helen Sastri took confidence with the new subject.

The investiture of the first day consisted in the welcome one of doctor Cesana, in the presentation of the present colleagues, therefore in the assignment of desk, laptop computer, telephone and switch for the macchinetta of the coffee.

It was alone after the job, that true, rained her on the table: it got up towering in front of her a battery of documents, informative sheets, brochures, clinical studies of medicines both in commerce and in the street of experimentation. It was not busy other for that day that to read them everybody.

But the massive structure you/he/she was digested with unusual slowness.

Helen distractedly skimmed through still the first folders of a line of alimentary integrators for the pregnant ones, since prenatal and pediatric pharmacology was the specialty of the house.

It observed the virtuous circle of a base iron medicine, that every good mother has to assume beginning from the fourth month, for itself, for the fetus and for his/her amniotic bagnetto. A chain of chemical reactions they explained the operation of the product, dense charts illustrated the results of it.

And Helen didn't already bear her anymore. Times it studied her, it now neglected her; sorvolava the necessary datum and it realized to have to reread afresh.

"Resumed, resumed". it suggested you to every distraction. And she didn't even succeed in understanding what in effects it distracted so much her. Or only he/she didn't want perhaps to understand him/it.

A coffee.

A classical of the fancazzismo, the break to the macchinetta, according to alone to the stroll in bath. Sinned that she had never been fancazzista.

It got up from the chair, it pretended to put back the sheets that it held throwing them on the first found free space.

You have only to go out of the office, to cross few meters of the corridor and an atrium opened to the comfort of the employees: there, a macchinetta multibevande didn't wait anything else other than the testing of the switch. With lightness, it inserted that that it owed and it crushed to fancy. Then attended.

The plastic bicchierino lay on the support, coffee was gone out, the palettina in soak, sugar grew thick on the fund. And Helen still seemed not to realize of it.

«You/he/she is waiting that I/you/he/she am cooled?»

The voice sudden junta to its shoulders did her/it start. A deep, kind but definite voice.

You turned of release.

«You excuse me, I had not felt her arrive» it said embarrassed, even before to discover who the you/he/she was turned.

A strong man and parish priest it observed her/it and it attended in silence. It was not for Helen an unknown presence: it had the certainty to have already seen inside the firm during the interviews him/it. That look, clear and severe as a sky of mountain, you/he/she had already sustained him/it.

He/she didn't know who pits but it was as if he/she knew that, in a certain sense, the Furnaces Pharmaceutics passed from that man.

«It doesn't have intention to use?»

«Oh. Yes, naturally. The coffee.»

Helen he felt stupid, perhaps for the first time in his/her life, but that presence disorientated her/it.

It lifted the counter and takings the drink. It started to turn the liquid, and to blow for cooling him/it.

«I/you had arrived before hardly, I would have been able to offer me. It will be for next time, doctor Sastri.»

In to feel himself/herself/themselves to call for name, Helen you/he/she could not hide his/her own surprise.

«We know each other?»

«Not yet: I am Charles Pezzali, the manager of the laboratory of search.»

The manager of the laboratory. The researchers' head. Would you/he/she have had to already know his/her name? And if you/he/she had already felt him/it, without succeeding in remembering when?

«So much pleasure.» The hand tightened him. The doctor smiled at way similar to as Helen you/he/she had veduto so many proud teachers of her and he asked that sense could have. «I didn't imagine but the researchers they interested him in the assumptions of the informants.»

«The researchers have to interest himself/herself/themselves in everything: if so it was not, the secret of the nature would stay I blocked forever.»

Helen sipped his/her coffee, uncertain on the to make himself/herself/themselves: it was the first time, from what the age of the innocence had abandoned, that didn't succeed to understand what a man wanted from her.

«I have started to appreciate your discoveries today.» It threw her on the professional flattery. «I have to say that you have developed a very creative approach, especially in the line of prenatal integrators.»

«It doesn't deal with creativeness: an artist creates, a scientist discovers. Dopodiché, uses what you/he/she has discovered for the common property. Nothing of what the science has produced you/he/she can tell him invented.»

The compliment had escaped from her hands and an offense had become almost. It seemed that Pezzali knew whether to drag the discourse and Helen, unaware and curious, it favored him/it.

«You believe therefore that there am no artifice in our job?»

«Me ago pleasure to feel to tell her" our": he/she wants to say that the scientist that is inside of her is still long live. But to answer her, would owe first to intend us on thing it means artifice. Us men we have a technological instinct that unites us to other animals. The beavers, don't do for example, anything else other than to fold up the resources of the nature to them benefit, modifying the courses of the waters to cut out him a proper habitat. In this sense, the whole science and the medicine with it, it is rich of artifice. But the science also has too many detractors, that persist him to contrast" artificial" to" natural." They paint the search as a monster that dares to climb over the natural laws. But to climb over is her impossible: all of this that is permitted to the man is because it is also permitted in kind. A ship built by the man floats for the same principles for which a tree divelto floats from a hurricane and fallen in water by chance. The science is the humble handmaid of the nature; and in how much such, it also has the duty to help to open wide her/it all of its endless potentialities.»

Coffee was ended; the cup fell, for the inevitable natural laws, on the fund of the basket of the refusals.

«The idea not to throw away anything, the idea that every leftover of nourishment able to fortify his/her mother competes to protect and to enrich the fetus: this is a creative approach to the laws of the nature. The nature is too often individualist and merciless. The man has the duty to improve her/it.»

«The disinterested man can do him/it. The interested man often finds advantage to stick not so much to the laws of the nature, but to the idleness with which this evolves him. Or his/her mother or the fetus: this is the approach of the traditional medicine. We take care of his/her mother, then we take care of his/her child, so we eat twice. »

«Today's fetus is tomorrow's man. And it is better to have him/it healthy that sick.»

«You is wrong, unfortunately. Too often the medicine, conditioned by the pharmaceutical industry, it looks at the single patient and it loses sight the humanity. It is a perverse consequence of the logic of the profit: better a sick to be taken care of today that a healthy man tomorrow. Ahead to us there is an unexplored sea, whose Argonauts will be our progeny. Me, when I make search, I look above all at them.»

It was true, fearfully true. Helen didn't succeed in sending away the feeling that those sentences were the echo of something already felt in a removed past.

On the fund of the corridor, Henry Cesana leaned out from his/her office. It exchanged a look with Helen, it acknowledged Pezzali and he withdrew. An apparition that allowed her to return on the earth.

«Doctor Pezzali, she is right» he/she affirmed with regret. «But unfortunately without the money we would not be here neither me, neither her.»

«A physician should hate the money. It is the hammer that nails him the wings to earth. But luckily his/her, she is not a physician.»

Helen knew to have to reenter in the office but something held back her/it. You/he/she was not seduced, not yet at least. But from that man you/he/she would have liked to still feel other words.

It was then that the silence of the attended one was upset by to storm some final ride of the ouverture of the William Tell of Rossini. Too much sonorous, too much minx.

Helen blushed some worse shame. It was his damned cellular that went crazy to like in to call her/it back so, without any decorum. Helen cursed the idleness that had prevented her, despite the innumerable intentions, to change that suoneria that Angel had inserted her for jest.

«I am desolate.» It stirred again madwoman in the bag, laboring to find the cellular phone. «I immediately extinguish him/it. Curse.»

Only after innumerable efforts the instrument went out of the hideaway. And there, perceiving the display, Helen stopped him uncertain. The button with the red cornet already under his/her finger he/she didn't want to be crushed yet.

«There are problems?» he/she asked Charles Pezzali.

Helen shook him.

«No, absolutely. It is only my brother. Now I close.»

«No, I beg her/it.» The peremptory application of Pezzali arrested her/it in time. It seemed too definite, to be a simple courtesy. «Also answers. With permission.»

It smiled at her and it went. While it was getting further, Helen realized not to have had the strength to ask him as it did to know who pits.

Green button.

«Ready.»

«To the buonora. This time I am me that I have interrupted by chance something?»

«Yes. You know, it calls job. I don't know if you have it foresees the concept.»

«Today we are well in vein of gentleness.»

«Angel, is working. Tell me thing you want.»

«To speak to you. What then the same thing that you wanted to do you last night is.»

Last night. A merda of evening, on which you/he/she would never have liked to return.

«Please. Don't speak last night to me» it replied angry.

«It is not my guilt if you decide all to make me the surprises.»

«It didn't seem me that the child was a surprise.»

Angel stopped from an immediate answer.

«You feel: I understand that the presence of Ricciuti can create you problems. But whoever other I frequent it doesn't have to concern you.»

«Oh, yes. Certain. It is correct that you take your liberty to tag after minor.»

«From when you dedicate yourself to the militant moralism, little sister?»

«From when you have forgotten what both the ethic! I don't like that that do and I have never hidden him to you. I don't say your job, rather: you know him/it that I am proud of you. And it doesn't even interest me of your conquests and escapades. But I don't want to see you victim of greater games of you.»

«To thing you report yourself, now?»

«Of all of this that I have seen last night. I have seen you disorientated. You displayed a safety that, for the first one turned from that I know you, he/she put on you I set as a suit cut badly. You will have been able to deceive all but not me.»

How much is it worth, to the world, an unmasked actor? How much a conjurer whose trick is revealed? How much a political sbugiardato? There are weakness in the human mind that the great ones hide even to him same; the conscience is a crumpled cloth, in which there are folds, tears and seams that serve from hideaway, and there they lies forgotten and buried demons inconfessabili.

It is a sin of injured majesty to unmask the actor, the conjurer, the political one. But who could condemn, Angel, if in front of itself, had to betray him/it, discovered another himself?

«We want to speak of it?» Angel cleared up in to be able to ask him/it. The quotidianità of the time missed him passed together with the twin one. «Ditches unemployed, could pass still to find me afternoon today.»

Helen appreciated the invitation, and it relaunched well prepared.

«I can spend this evening.»

But to that proposal the eyes of Angel raced distant; Helen could not know him/it but at that time the look of his/her/their brother pursued a simple white envelope, still sealed, abandoned on the table close to the telephone.

«No. Tonight I am not able» he/she answered detached.

And Helen understood.

«Naturally. Your universe calls again yourself.» A renewed bother was translated in hasty and sharp sounds.

«You are afraid Helen. You are afraid for you as for me. You are in escape from that world that you have refused. And now you feel him/it again impend through me. But I am not your enemy. I am your brother. Of you can entrust me you. You have to entrust you.»

«If I have to entrust me, then you can tell me what it prevents you from meeting us tonight?»

«You are sure to want to know him/it?»

He/she wanted to be his/her accomplice but an impassable wall it had been separating them for a lot of time.

«You are right. It is better of no. Even if I don't know what both worse: to know a ragazzina to encircle you or to make the orgies with a group of old perverts.»

«You are silent!» A peremptory order the squassòs the breast, as a fist cast of surprise. Helen staggered. He/she wanted to mistake him but that of Angel it seemed a lot simpler anger. «Of certain things should not even speak! You don't know anything of that that we are. You don't know anything of as we work. You have never wanted to know nothing!»

The silence betrayed the emotion of Helen. A new fear gave her a new loneliness.

But his/her brother immediately appeared ready to risollevarla.

«Helen both me that you we have known the organization through Emilio. I have remained, and you no: the way with which he has approached us was evidently, all right for me but not for you.»

«There is not anything to be understood!» He/she wanted then to defend himself/herself/themselves Helen. «Is what is trying to realize that is monstrous! Is playing with the man with the nature. Is playing to make God!»

Angel let her/it discharge. It was not the first time that it respected the fears of it, loving boldness and brittleness of it.

«If you don't want to understand, it means that you are not ready to do him/it. When you will want to trust me, as you have always done, then you will return, and you will ask me to explain. Until then, I have sworn: I won't be me to force to look you in the abyss.»

Helen was about to answer when Henry Cesana appeared still.

There was not more Pezzali to protect her and that inquiring look it detained him on the girl that anchors it delayed to the telephone.

«I have to leave you, now.»

«When we see us?»

«I do me long live me. Tomorrow.»

Riagganciò.

Thing was of it of Helen, lost in the meander of the business life, Angel could never know him/it.

The beloved sister, industrious, punctual, loyal to the duty and the constituted orders, it splashed about at that time in his/her habitat: to bend the head to the business satrap, to glue the eyes to dense documents of rules, to fill empty spaces of numbers and sigle to satisfy other heads, that undergo to financiers, that try to ingratiate committees, in which nothing interests of a new conquest but only that all the white spaces become black.

He found again him in the house, with I set a solo pair of jeans and an undershirt and with a mute cellular phone in hand. Is sat on the edge of the bed, the great bed, that of his/her/their parents. It was completely undone, still imbued of the perfumes of the night.

It went out of the room and it reached the study, where the power on screen of the PC reproduced a photo of the entry of the caves of Altamira, told the caves of the bisons for the superb representations risalenti the paleolitico. You/he/she had gone off her in a recent trip, also immortalizing as trophy Portuguese two students of anthropology, that that same evening had swept together.

In low, on the bar, an icon flashed: someone recalled its attention. Cliccò with the mouse, without being amazed.

Laura simply wrote him Hi.

That's all. Who knows from how much time had come that regard that she had sent without pretensions.

An only word, a simple call. And then attends him.

Laura would never have stamped on anybody to get what he/she wanted. Just as Helen.

So similar, the two girls, although fallen by the eccentricities of the servant in opposite contexts. One, Helen, incapable to enjoy the liberty that would have been able also to afford himself/herself/themselves. The other confined in a dream of liberty that anchors could not live.

Since liberty is a difficult and dangerous prize and Helen it was always estate to the wide one.

He/she remembered Angel, errors and heroes of youth in the scheming years of the high school.

Angel and Helen had been enrolled both to the same school, but in different high school: Helen the scientific one, Angel the classical one. It was an institute comprehensive Catholic, among the most famous of the city. One great passion of mine, the schools of the Old one: there they nest the true free spirits, those able to thrill and to become enthusiastic himself/herself/themselves for the walk of the knowledge. The government alternative is the kingdom of gotten lazy bureaucrats a death sentence of the free thought.

I free thought that tried many years ago to express him that morning of, in a great classroom that swarmed of strong young people. The theme was my preferred ossimoro: thing makes the free man.

The more scalpitantis were the militiamen of the movement that it already made witticism in the name of the liberation. They played in the house, therefore you/they had departed to the attack: they gave breath to a twisted reasoning according to which the man is born free, but you/he/she is free only in the Christ, since its liberty coincides with the free adhesion to the sketch that the Old man has reserved to him, and therefore the life in community and the share to the movement I am the maximum one of the expression of their liberty, since it is free only whoever it understands that the good for itself is the meeting with his/her/their brother, his/her sister, his/her brother's sister, his/her mother, his/her aunt, but above all the Church, that notoriously bride is mother and to the necessity also lover. The all in an appearance of absolute simplicity and linearity.

To flashes, when you/he/she was allowed them, the minorities trooped to the extreme ones, right or it damages that were, they uselessly shouted that liberty is also liberty from the doctrine and they exalted the heresy as germ of truth.

And while the minds aroused enthusiasm him, Angel would never have forgotten the separation of Helen.

Whoever intervened, he/she asked, he/she answered, it was troubled to sustain a rag of position: she seemed it almost refused to listen.

«The liberty me ago fear.» you/he/she had answered him, when returning home had asked him of it the motive. «Too cruelties can end in name of the liberty, whoever arrogates the right to interpret its meaning.»

As it was beautiful Helen to the high school. Such a refined beauty that only few had the liver to contemplate, the courage to desire, the strength to approach.

It was so similar since that time the Helen to Laura.

A pure beauty, perfect, that of an age that he does grace and of a vice that he makes innocence. The beauty that is always right and that of nothing has to realize.

The free beauty, the greatest gift for a living being, what time it manifested him in that green little ball close to the name, on a cold and colored dialogue box.

It was still on-line, in attended, faithful to his/her new passion. An adorable and exciting fidelity.

A lot of things were to say. All the words that that night was held in throat, so that you/they were not thrown in the anything.

You sat to the computer.

Hi Laura. It began.

# Chapter 8.

The door was closed again to its shoulders. Two sent of key were the last clash before a family silence brought order and rest in its head. Helen was at home, his/her house, the pleasant space that had reserved for slinking away I pour the independence.

It unthread the jacket and it threw her/it on the couch of the zone day; few footsteps and it also removed the shoes setting aside her in the first angle met of the zone night. Then it realized only that it was now already to turn on the light. The first day was consumed in the office.

Afoot naked, it trod the cold tiles of the bath directing himself/herself/itself toward the beloved tub.

The bath with the tub: only concession to the spaces that you/he/she had pretended before suiting himself/herself/themselves for his/her studio apartment. In the tub he regenerated, in the tub it faced the adversities, in the tub it celebrated his/her moments of glory; in the tub he/she loved making sex, since only it felt there him free to perform himself/herself/themselves in the wildest oralità.

It pushed at the most the mixer some heat: subsequently you/he/she would have moderated only the water.

It returned then in stay, realizing himself/herself/itself that a spy flashed on the answering machine.

While it was pressing the key to start the recording, he/she already knew that voice to wait him.

«Hi Ele, meant you that tonight we find us for an appetizer in St. Babila at eight o'clock. There are all, obviously without men: we will find of of it there best.» A choir of female laughters crowned the sentence. «We wait you, call us!»

He/she adored his/her senseless friends.

After all that obsolete instrument of answering machine was only still there for her: the Beba, his/her companion of bench from the first year of the superior, old column of the high school, stubborn activist of left in the scholastic kingdom of Our Lord. You/he/she had never lost the habit to call her/it to house and to leave messages if you/he/she had not found her, in beard to the whole further technological timeliness. It was the living test than the revolutionary ones are not anything else other than of the unaware conservatories.

Helen ran after with the memoirs innumerable evenings: with that group of friends you/he/she had shared everything. In a same evening you/they were passed by a concert to the Arcimboldis with music of Stockhausen and Maderna to a dopoteatro of masculine strip. A so ample ghost of existence frightened her/it: he didn't want but the life you/he/she dragged her/it out of his/her shelter, not that evening.

«I am sorry it, but you can live without me» it murmured among the teeth.

And while the world around her again kept silent, it directed him in room. It opened a drawer and it removed a pair of panties of it of white cotton and an undershirt, that it abandoned on the bed. It removed the pillow, the pajamas was to attend her/it there.

It started to undress himself/herself/themselves.

It unthread the skirt, allowing to slip her/it on the floor; therefore it unbuttoned the blouse, what time it opened on the bra of transparent end and on the pale abdomen.

It picked up the skirt and it raised the shirt abandoning both with respect on the bed.

The lights of the room were power on, the taxes of the window that it leaned out on the courtyard had still opened and the curtains partly you remove. Its desirable body in intimate could be easy prey of looks and judgments that Helen would have accepted, impudent. Granted only this, before fading away and to again address him in bath.

The tub he was riempiendo, exhaling vapors: already a slim mist fluttered in the environment, and the mirror started to return outlines from the evanescent contours.

But its body was still well recognizable. You observed in the reflex and with studied laying it unhooked the bra, leaving the breast free; immediately after it was the turn of the panties, that you/they perceived reticent along the skin of the sides and the thighs.

The intimate lay for earth as the bare ones of a battle. Helen remained so, naked, immovable, to observe him.

Eva, Eva! How much have loved your beauty without mystery! I contemplated, your exposed meats it is true, while I was crawling verse of you to give for ever you the shine of the youth and the beauty. But He came, irascible and vengeful, that at all to the world you/he/she would have abdicated the dominion on his/her short-lived creatures. The death and the horror of the undoing since then companions are you. And with a leaf you did foolish of your beauty.

To admire a naked body is an action of devotion. Me, modestly, in this practice I graze the holiness. And my children, as would you/they have been able to otherwise live the relationship with their beauty?

It observed his/her body change himself/herself/themselves since small, Helen the beautiful one. It discovered the pube to be covered himself/herself/themselves, his/her lips to pronounce him and the breast to fill him.

How many times, still to the averages, you/he/she had lingered in front of the mirror of the bath without the blouse and the bra. He/she snooped, looking at forehead, then on a side, then on the other, it appreciated the bend, it realized the boundless power of his/her femininity.

As to forget the day in which in bath Angel stormed.

The hands of Helen instinctively raced to cover this of which you/he/she would ever have had to be ashamed; it was the heritage of the curse of the progenitors edenici.

But Angel didn't make a fold and him fiondò to the bathroom. Helen felt the hiss of the lightning that lowered. The penis of his/her/their brother was free, even if you/he/she was not given her to see him/it.

The throw of urine rained in the water of the I unload and, despite the disturbance for that unexpected promiscuity, Helen didn't succeed in removing the eyes of back from the back of his/her/their brother.

Only then, with the tail of the eye, he deigned her/it.

«Continuous also with your mirror, you do as if I there was not. Also me if I were woman I would be lesbian.» The throw ended, the pantalonis were closed again. A vernacular clash swallowed everything. «And I would spend the whole time looking me at the breasts.»

It passed nearby her, before going out, and a kiss left on her shoulder, provocative, felon, slippery.

He/she was amazed, alone again with his/her reflex, incapable to understand and to understand him. And you/he/she had realized that its hands were not covering the breast, but you/they were caressing him/it.

As that same evening, when the mature beauty that so many men had disturbed reduced him to a private exhibition for the alone one, same actress in scene.

The hands perceived along the breast, on the side, where the skin is more sensitive. And that nipples, faithful sentinels to the cause, launched the alarm.

But the trill of the sudden telephone again fell her/it in other thoughts. It easily sent away every ambiguity, the bathrobe quickly inserted him and reached the instrument.

«Ready?»

«Hi, treasure.»

The face of the girl illuminated him.

«Mother!»

«How you are, small my?»

Which answered you/he/she would have had sense? "Well, mother, thanks." You/he/she was discounted that so pits: young and healthy, affirmed and independent, you/he/she could say only" well." But it avoided.

«You, rather. How does your turn of the world proceed?»

«Not to exaggerate! Now we have been being to Utrecht for a few days because dad is opening here a branch of his/her chain of shops.»

«Another?» You amazed Helen. «Make him my compliments. But because really to Utrecht? Amsterdam is a greater plaza.»

«Primo because to Amsterdam it would be too much banal: they are already there all, whether to also add us us? And then, my daughter, here the sport breathes him/it in the air: you know, you/he/she was born you a some Mark Van Basten.»

«Grant not to know him/it to me» he/she answered snickering. «But the city as it is?»

«Delightfully Dutch. Harmonious, cleaning up, ancient for culture and modern for mentality. It is a kinder and more pleasant city of the capital. To Amsterdam there are so many contrasts, you sometimes perceive a fear of which here is not trace.»

Helen serenely listened to the voice so satisfied of his/her mother. It was so in peace with herself and with his/her man that would have described with as many enthusiasm any place of this earth.

«A libertine couple of ex bellocci, that gets married in a libertarian country to liberally to deal» it commented, assuming the voice in to mock his/her mother.

«And that they leave too much two impudent descendants in the most medieval country of west to decide their destiny in all autonomy. But now do tell me you: as it goes with the new job?»

End of the trip. On the suggestive views withdrawn in the words of Adele Sastri, Helen was run away away also. But it was not this the way, he/she knew him/it. To reassure, faked the same enthusiasm.

«I have started really today.»

«Already started? Fantastic! And as do you find yourself?»

Also to the best heads, it sometimes happens to slip himself/herself/themselves in questions without results. But it was his/her mother, and its thoughtful curiosity didn't deserve to be outstanding.

«I am not able he/she anchors to tell him/it mother. One alone day doesn't teach a lot yourself.»

«But an impression is enough for the one that feels like becoming enthusiastic himself/herself/themselves some. It will end as usual otherwise,: after some that you are in a place you start to complain you. I/you could return back I would tear you with the teeth the gene of the dissatisfaction that I have given you.»

«This time is not dissatisfaction. It is that. Oh, mother, is I know confused. I don't understand if I am pursuing the life that I indeed desire or if I am hiding me from a life that I don't want that I/you/he/she reach me. If only you were here...»

«It would change something? If you want next week we can be already in Milan. But could your doubts fade away with my arrival indeed?»

Helen listened to that banal truth.

«You are right, the problem is mine. It is that I feel me alone» it admitted, without shame. «Also with the men: with all the histories that I have had, never the consolation to divide the bed with someone with which I/you felt me to be sincere. To the thirty dawn I am still single. The only ones to enjoy are those crazy of it of my friends.»

«And I fear that they will have to rejoyce he/she anchors for of it very.»

«Thanks, mother.» It faked very well the offense.

«Not to misunderstand me» it hastened to collide with Adele. «I wanted only to say that the men are afraid of a woman when in her talent and beauty are melted. Or they are incredibly stupid and they don't realize, and then you would not accept them you, or you should find someone in degree to hold it makes a will you. But with the men that are around there a today's day.»

They snickered together, mother and daughter, with the same serenity of a past ever removed, of an age of toys and whims, in which everything is appetite and it doesn't exist the satisfaction. Happy Helen child scurried about, she wagged him on the Latvian, jumping, pushing, slamming his/her brother, while laughters that only the maternal enchantment succeeds in turning into something different from strident squeaking they filled the house.

«I remember to also have left you a brother, once» it said Adele.

A brother. A companion tied by a tie writing in the blood and in the dreams. A man condemned not to betray.

«There is, I don't deny him/it. It is always me very near» it started to explain. «But he/she is seen that it doesn't belong to my life anymore. I too often envy him/it: so sure of itself, of his/her choices. It seems that fortune has to know so much good its esservisi destiny simply seized and not to have to do anything else other than lasciarvisi to drag.»

«You are very more similar than you don't think, my child. The bond that unites you is deep. I would not marvel me that its destiny is able somehow to be also yours.»

The destiny. The sketch that the Old man loves to scribble I set to the unlucky his/her schiavettis. Is there something avoidable in the destiny? Is The life of each a department store during the sales only or it is possible to still find a custom tailor? And if yes, to which price?

«No. Not this time» it murmured, while in front of the eyes they lowered irriferibili abysses of darkness.

«I didn't want to frighten you. At least steal him some his/her enthusiasm, and also use him/it when it seems out place. Once crossed a door, it is useless to take around us: back he doesn't return anymore. Whatever is your choice, thrown us without doing you more questions. And not to leave never that a scientist's regrets old maid ruins your maturity.»

In that instant, Helen was observed. In front of herself, the reflex in the mirror wore that white bathrobe as the mantle of a vestal, slightly open on the breast, among the breasts and along the legs. Over the reflex, through the mirror, a curtain of a remote window of the building of forehead furtively returned to its place.

«Mother: maturity is yours. I am still young» sbruffonò, taking in loan the role from his/her/their brother. But his/her mother was well happy of it.

«Then live her/it, your youth, without regrets. Rather with some remorse, but not to leave to subdue you from anybody, men that I lead from yourself.»

«You/he/she will be done.»

«Hi small my. And he/she watches over on your brother.»

«It is all right. A kiss to dad.»

The line returned molt. His/her mother was enfeebled, as you/he/she had arrived. The nothing of sounds and people again met with his/her heart in his/her body.

An instant wandered in the room up to reach the bag. Taken the jail cell, well knowing that his/her friend's number Beba was one of the last mixtures, therefore easy to find again with few movements. After the bath, an evening with its friends what wanted us had become.

Before, however, it had to challenge his/her pretense loneliness.

There, in that illuminated room, it allowed to fall to the ground the white bathrobe.

Before extinguishing the light and to retire himself/herself/themselves with herself, pushed the look out of his/her own window, through the mirror, toward that remote uneasy curtain, which devoted an impudent thought.

#  "Welcome in the country of the wonder, unknown pig."

#

#

# 

# Chapter 9

A Peugeot 207 dark it slipped in the darkness. Crossing the woods of the Brianza, it licked up plants that stretched out him on the street, they almost wanted to grab her/it.

There were no lights, few cars flowed in the other sense of march.

Closed in the cabin, Angel listened to the diaphanous voice of David Gilmour. Remember that night... White sails in the moonlight. They walked it too, through empty playground, this ghost's town.

A world was built around him, made of turned looks to the future, of applications of help, of vague hopes. Children again on rusting swings getting higher, sharing to dream on an Island.

The music wound him/it and protected him/it hiding the vernacular din of the motor. The cabin rippled following the road, cradling him/it; the lights of the lighthouses split a dark sea. It was as him same sailing without tools but without uncertainties, with the eyes and the heart well firm on that only star able to drive him/it.

Of forehead, not far, the island.

He/she knew that there was: over the kingdom of the servant, hidden in the depth of every man. It has many names, the island that is: who calls her/it peace, who love, who well. It is not in sky, it is not reached with words; the fear doesn't reign you, since you/he/she cannot have of it who pursues her/it. It has only a meaning: to live.

Away from the evil, away from the sea. A serene hermitage, to reach for being free.

Others brave as him, that evening you/they would be united to his/her crossing. And perhaps, one day, all the men of this Earth navigheranno united verse of her, without fears, without hypocrisies, without hysterias. Because nobody can destroy impunemente the possibility of an island.

Nessun'altra distraction that night: standing on the deck, the narrow rudder in hand. Second star to the right.

Let the night surround you, we macaws half way to the stars. Ebb and flow, let it grow, feel the warmth beside you...

Of a line the plants that made wall opened. To their place a gate appeared in front of which a man attended. You/he/she would not even have noticed him/it, if you/he/she had not known that there was, shade among the shades, living obscurity.

The address was correct.

Angel and turned toward the gate without putting the arrow.

It approached in front of the man and it lowered the car window.

The vivacious air entered to reawaken him/it from the numbness of the dreams. Gilmour meanwhile he/she caressed the ropes of his/her guitar and the electric and vibrating notes as next waves of the sea to the beach they rippled him, on which the music concluded falling through its course.

The man exhibited an impeccable double black breast that wound him/it as a caress. The gun was there surely, from some part under the jacket.

«Good evening» it said and attended. It was also polite, the gorilla.

«Arabesque.» It slipped out of the open car window.

«You arranges. And spends a pleasant evening.»

The elegant man premises a button and the gate you/he/she opened humming.

The path still continued for different meters dipped in the vegetation. The gravel of the pavement scalpicciava under the wheels of the Peugeot that it was penetrated in the ownership of the guest. In the middle of an ample garden, as a star come down by the sky, the villa of Ottavio Barletti beamed, magnate of the bagged brianzolis.

It won the darkness, with the external lighthouses to illuminate the white walls. And the windows, to the first one as per second plain, they shone of a heat and trembling natural shine: a waste of candles had been select to recreate a fictitious but fitting atmosphere.

Angel you have to overcome a line of derisions chilometriche, SUV and coupe, and it immediately parked after a black BMW with the darkened glasses. Some autos of small capacity it was present however: the young researchers, the dawning stars of the science and the knowledge, were not held to display symbols of a power yet well away from the attainment.

Angel Sastri went down from the car and stopped him an instant.

The damp air breathed: greedily you/he/she could feel until in the mouth the natural humors of the plants, of the earth, of the air. Hidden animals uttered incomprehensible verses: frinivanos, whistled, they snarled to the air and the moon, reawakened in the depth, also them waiting for the conclusion.

On the other side, the house shone wound in the silence.

They were all inside, surely, but from the illuminated atrium a sense originated of only attended.

The entry was preceded by a parvis. There stazionava another keeper in bourgeois.

«Arabesque» it repeated Angel for the second time, without attending asks for of it; the man removed him without saying nothing. Of the two, the first one dissuaded. This probably killed.

It entered. In front of him, a main staircase brought to the superior plan, to the right as to the left new rooms they trembled of lights and of presences. It was everything a to go and to come, a to look and to look at himself/herself/themselves respectful and nevertheless distant.

They were decently people from the mediocre aspect, that wandered wary and anxious: some chatted among them, others were alone; few accompanied by kind ladies and anchor there were alone women. There was not any exhibition of luxury any sign of particular distinction.

And nobody could not even imagine him that, if in that instant a bomb had bursted in the villa, the industrial, political and economic vertexes in Italy would have been reseted.

Overall, each had the tendency to avoid him. To conform himself/herself/themselves, Angel went toward a room from which you/they originated notes in distorsion and slim lights of various colors.

There, two only candelabra maintained the environment in faint light, concealing the identities of the presents. On a wall you/he/she was projected meanwhile a video, connected to boxes hidden in every angle, from the floor to the ceiling.

It was an old video of the first Pink Floyd, still without that Gilmours that you/he/she had accompanied him/it in the trip but with a flashing Syd Barret to drive the group through the deep space, recreating from the nothing the foolish and magic sounds of Astronomy Domi of it. Squirted sequences, stacked images the one on the others, naked women and congested faces, absorbed in psychedelic colors, they were projected on the naked wall as a joke of a secret and unknown dominus.

You/he/she was still enchanted when a hand leaned him on its shoulder, making to jolt him/it.

«Angel! You/they have told me that you have arrived.»

«Ricciuti. You have made me frighten.»

«Me? Who knows then that effect they will make you the souls of the corpses.» it altered the voice, as who wants to try to terrorize to baby without succeeding us. Out on to be born a childish laughter, it was found to quadrate afoot afresh it. It observed the friend wear with boldness a dark suit of a discreet elegance, with a clear white shirt.

«You are also until too refined for the evening» it commented. «You know him/it what you/they risk too much here the expensive heads?»

«Memory.» it admitted detached.

«You don't remember enough, if for you the fashion remains a principle irrinunciabile, also in occasions in which to vomit is set it is the least one that can happen. You come of now I have there someone to introduce you,» it was the definite call of Emilio, that made road.

Angel abandoned unwillingly the musical deliriums of the crazy diamond, you/he/she again crossed the entry and you/he/she entered the opposite room.

It was twin of the preceding one, but richly furnished and disseminated of appreciated antiquity.

The attention of Angel fell on a panel wooden place on a table in the middle of the room and exhibited with particular care. You understood that for his/her master it didn't represent any wedge of the collection.

It was a plate for woodcuttings, sharp pain of images and writings: it represented a separated circle in seven segments superscripted to a triangle, endowed with legs and surmounted by the wings of a bird. Anywhere, in the spaces, symbols were engraved alchemici; around the circle, a writing in negative, that Angel easily recognized.

«Visit Interiora Terrae Rectificando Invenies Occultum Lapidem» he/she read to tall voice.

«Vitriol. It is the witticism of the alchemists» it commented Ricciuti, convinced to be able to impart to Angel a lesson of which it didn't have need. «Our guest is a stubborn esoterista. It is convinced that the symbolism and the language alchemicos prefigure what we am realizing now.»

«And it doesn't have all the blames.»

A voice of sudden it played again to their shoulders. Turning himself/herself/itself, the presence of a smiling and elegant man they were found to.

«Angel» it introduced satisfied Ricciuti. «Allow to introduce me you doctor Charles Pezzali, manager of the clinical laboratories of the Furnaces Pharmaceutics.»

Angel and Charles learned. Here disclosed the one to the other two perfect strangers, united by a mysterious and seductive tie. They felt nearby it, as not never; but nobody wanted to mention of it: she was not of that evening.

«Angel Sastri» he/she introduced him reaching out.

«Honorable. I have very felt to speak of her, even if I have to admit not to have ever seen to the work her/it.»

«Me of it dispatch deeply» he/she annotated the actor

«I fear to have interrupted you: I have seen that you were admiring one of the jewels of the collection of Barletti. That plate goes up again to the first decade of the XVI century: you/he/she is perfectly preserved because you/he/she has never been used. It is pure and uncontaminated.»

«Uncontaminated as our search?» Angel alluded, the pure madman.

«Really this way.» The doctor picked up the challenge. «We are pursuing the Stone Filosofale, dopotutto. And it is not bargain from few.»

«Mr., The marvels me!» he inserted Ricciuti. «They are only old legends! Our walk is very more concrete, it is a to act material.»

Shook Pezzali the head.

«The" old legends" they were him/it the same. The alchemists worked on spirit and subject on body and soul. The Stone hidden in the bowel of the earth is the same one hidden in the depth of the man. Macrocosm and microcosm coincide. "What is aloft it is as what it is in low, and what is in low it is as what it is aloft".»

«The Table of Emerald» it recognized Angel. «Magic words of author, that explain the Vitriol and they are explained of it. Only in the depth of the earth, straightly acting, it is possible to find the hidden stone.»

«But that earth we are us» he/she wanted to add Ricciuti. «Therefore, that the search ends In Internal Hominis.»

«There is no need to say him/it, Emilio: it is not an essay of medicine» taken back Angel. «In to know hermetic, every word is sign, and it has a boundless and only value that every alchemist knows: there is very more of the earth and very more of the man. You deals only with realizing him/it. And to live him/it.»

Emilio Ricciuti accepted of good degree the lesson.

«You see to thing they serve the humanists?» he/she sketched to Charles Pezzali.

He didn't respond, neither some of them would have continued in the discourse, since the deep sound of a bell filled the house, repeated five, six, seven times.

It was the call, everything had beginning.

Spin her some people, from every head of the villa, they poured again him toward the entry.

Angel, Emilio and Charles didn't have anything else other than to follow and there to gather himself/herself/themselves together with everybody.

For first thing, they saw enchanting creatures go down the staircases and to stay himself/herself/themselves along the steps. Marvelous young girl, dress up to the right of jewels and cloths in silk transparent, they distributed smiles to the presents. To the left strong young people towered to naked torso, hairless in face and on the breast, shiny for the essences that anointed the graven muscles of it.

From last, in the silence, they came down the staircases two men.

One of the two had not withstood the greed to be delighted, and it exhibited an impeccable tuxedo.

A curious and severe look embraced all, the crafty and mature face was embellished of the completely trimmed skull and of the strong neck.

He immediately taken the word.

«It is Ottavio Barletti, our guest» it whispered for time Emilio in the ear of Angel, that had not labored to realize him/it.

«Dear friends and brothers» it began, articulating the priestly sentence with bold voice. «It is with immense honor that is allowed me to entertain you once more in my ownerships, to complete together a new it covers of our eternity walk.»

While words of proud rhetoric ploughed the air, the eyes of Angel delayed around. Too and too much strong the situated distractions cleverly or casually welcomed by the amphitryon: people of so disparate origin and aspect enmeshed the curiosity of Angel.

Hastened Emilio and it took advantage to become himself/herself/themselves protagonist of it.

«From what I know Barletti, I assure you that it will still have for a beautiful of it po.' Oltre a essere convinto di avere un cervello straordinario, è innamorato della sua voce.»

«I started to also fear him/it me.»

«There is tonight the public of the great occasions. Do you know someone of the guests?»

«Almost anybody. Perhaps someone of sight» it admitted Angel.

«To the feet of the staircase there is the chief physician of oncology of the Policlinico» it started to list conceited Ricciuti. «To his/her side, that elegant woman is ordinary in National of medieval history.»

«I admit the ignorance, I have never seen them.»

«A more known face serves you? It looks apart then at that elderly gentleman next to the door of the other room. Have you recognized him/it?»

Angel followed with the look and you/he/she could not hold back a motion of surprise.

«But that is the minister.»

«In person. When it counts, it never misses.»

«Some that the coverages always serve.»

«I am the base of our survival and they have to involve all the aspects of the public life. Do you for example see that man in the middle of the group, that with the curly hair with that bad dye color pitch? It is the vicequestore in Milan.»

The eyes of Angel moved of face in face, asking himself/herself/itself how much to be able that evening was present, but asking above all himself/herself/itself for what authentic motive every of that powerful persons had gone down to compromises with the devil.

«Then that is the most interesting of all: it looks well at the old bad suit with the glasses. There, next to the blank grassona, that all unstuck.»

Angel lengthened the look. It also realized that the ragazzona was scrutinizing him/it, as a disturbed animal that feels the draw near of a raider.

«I should know him/it?» it considered Angel worrying only himself/herself/itself about the old one.

«You/he/she can be, if I met him/it in cowl hemmed of purple.»

Angel started.

«A cardinal?»

«One of the papabilis. It is an extraordinary person: for him the eugenic search and the human clonazione are a moral obligation that every good Christian should pursue with all the strengths.»

«You are telling me that in Vatican there is still someone who reasons with his/her head?»

«And how much reasons! If the science, sustains, it is the language with which God has written the universe, the genetic code is the deepest essence of it. He finds absurd that God has given the possibility to improve him and then to the man pretends that I/you/he/she don't exploit her/it. He/she thinks that its dream is to extract the genetic code from the traces ematiche of the shroud and to clone Our Lord.»

«Until again I will come to you from the sky.» it found natural annotated to Angel.

Meanwhile, the prayer of the guest set out to conclusion.

«I leave the word to our brother now, professor Danilo Bevilacqua, ordinary of botany to the university in Milan, that will introduce our evening from a more scientific point of view.»

«Bevilacqua is a giant. I recommend you to listen to him/it» it whispered Ricciuti falling through, almost to want to disappear to the presence of the professorial one. Which found immediately the way of attracting the attention.

It lifted aloft well the braccias.

«Mr., gentlemen» it announced. «I introduce you the queens of the party.»

In every hand, the teacher exhibited a small leaf: from that distance, for an a little accustomed eye as that of Angel, they seemed identical. They were small, thin, lanceolate, of power on green color. Yet they were not the same plant.

«In my right hand, you see a leaf of Psycothria viridis. This plant from the innocent air contains abundant doses of dimetiltriptamina, for the friends DMT, a hallucinogenic hormone that our brain already secretes in small doses. We would owe therefore to be already all hallucinated ones, but in our body an enzyme exists, also the monoamminaossidasi, that destroys to the contact every potentiality of the DMT. And it is here, gentlemen, that it enters scene her.» And it exhibited the second leaf, that well narrow estate in the left hand. «Banisteriopsis caapi. Superb sample of the Amazonian giant lianas, of the family of the Malpighiaceaes. But for all of us, it will simply be ayahuasca, or" cries some souls", as the indioses call her/it that draw benefit of it from millennia. Of it, it won't be the leaf but the body of the liana, that, essay, will opportunely free in our body substances able to disarm the inhibiting enzyme, leaving so free to act the active principle of the DMT.»

The public assisted in silence. Few words, very concrete, and here revealed the trick. Chemistry, biology, sensible experiences and necessary demonstrations came to break millennial beliefs.

But was it already everything explained indeed? It was the same Bevilacqua to reopen it brings her/it to the magic.

«80.000 plants exist in Amazzonia. About ten thousand of years ago, our ancestors not only individualized a hallucinogenic plant, but they discovered whether to make her/it effective crossing her/it with another. A combination that, if submitted to the case, you/he/she would be verified in a case on six million and four hundred million. To ask him/it to the sciamanis, the answer that is gotten it is amazing: they are the spirits of the same plants that teach them as to use her. They are the beings inside of us to illuminate who evokes them, that same unknown beings that from years by now we strive there to meet, to question; from which is ours supreme wish and our to have to learn.»

The audience kept silent, of a vigilant silence: a new dawn of nightmares and wisdom you/he/she was about to rise. Induced hallucinations would again have tortured today's wise, confident in the streets of yesterday's knowledge, of tomorrow, usual.

Taken back the word Barletti.

«The teacher they swarm you/he/she is already attending us. You/he/she has worked for us since yesterday, treating the two plants and mixing the infusion to prepare her. Let's submit us to his/her guide.»

The staircases and the procession of the beautiful ones him accodòs went down to them. The mass of the presents widened for leaving them first to pass and then to follow them.

They crossed the villa and they went out on the back. Free from artificial constraints they were assembled in garden as roof the sky and for walls the hedges.

Under the leafy branches of the tallest plant a pot reboiled on a light fire. Close to it, an old benumbed Indian murmured songs with uninhibited voice, while it was mixing the magic watery soup.

From that divine abdomen it spread around him all a pestilential odor: still-life, rotten jungle, work to the black, aching and decomposed.

All the presents prepared him in circle while the pot was removed by the fire.

Sat for earth as disciplined schoolboys, the powerful persons of Italy attended. Who knows if never in their life these unprejudiced men of manifold business had had an attitude of so authentic deference for someone?

To the borders of the small crowd, the figurantis prostitutis attended standing, I excluded by the taste psicoattivo: them I spell that it was alone to delight the trip oltremondano of the privileged ones with every type of sexual complaisances, so that psychic energies were expanded by the sublime to like. Illuminating orgasms, wedding sacred, heritages of ancient depravations earned on the field by the old financiers of the last frontier of the science.

They swarm him/it, in the meantime you/he/she had gotten up, and with a brand of the fire you/he/she had lit up a cigarette, of tobacco, perhaps, or of who knows what other diabolic nature naturante.

The smoke puffed as a human turibolo, all around itself, then above the pot.

It finally came toward the presents and, hymning to the spirits in a language forgotten in the times, the sacred smoke breathed on everybody.

The wind had gotten up among the leaves: a tinkling sound now, now liquid, now sizzling it hypnotized the presents. Were they already the spirits? Were they the corpses that were poured again in mass on the alive ones? Or were they the alive ones that ignored volutamente the death, mocking the messengers of it?

They swarm him/it it returned then to his/her place and attended picked in himself, winding himself/herself/itself in a motley poncho.

Then, without not even lifting the look, it aimed an index.

It started so the call: a bony finger, twisted by rheumatisms malcurati, you/he/she was sharpened on the first one of the chosen. You/he/she was touched really to the cardinal.

As it was him of forehead, the teacher it dipped the ladle in the pentolone. It drew the dose of it to administer to the follower, that grabbed the ladle and tracannò of a breath.

A grimace of disgust painted him on its face. It won the efforts, and with calm he/she returned to his/her place, he sat and attended.

A new call, and a new follower tasted. These, nevertheless, not resistette, and he/she hardly vomited not everything returned to the place.

And so, one after the other, his/her brothers rose to their destiny, to them the privilege was granted to question otherwise hidden ghosts.

They swarm him/it it proceeded with an unnatural safety: without not even looking at them in face, he/she called every without never being repeated himself/herself/themselves, as if everybody it knew.

And from the nothing, without uncertainties, the turn of Angel came.

That finger unequivocally aimed against it was a sacred branch, it was the rod of a water diviner, and it didn't admit hesitancies.

Angel Sastri got up and drew near definite.

It maintained the look on the pot, before, and on the ladle then. The dark of the night seemed to be him liquefied, and decanted in that copper pot misterico.

Of a line, it perceived on itself the look of the old one. It didn't dare return him/it: a child felt him, unworthy to answer, you/he/she felt in that man the strength of mythological once, to that nothing had whether to make with the solo flow some years.

The infusion was among its hands finally. Also the noise, a squandering of cinders semiliquide, appeared repellent. It approached him/it to the mouth trying to hold back the breath, but that nauseating stench seemed to transpire through the skin.

It threw down, and rottenness exploded him in mouth, falling along the throat to devastate the stomach.

But nothing went out of him. Nothing of the precious liquid, viatico of eternal hopes.

Disoriented, Angel returned to his/her place and there he laid down, huddled up as a baby on the side, to protect himself/herself/themselves and to protect his/her thoughts.

They spent minutes, protected Angel in the shade attended. With the open eyes he/she watched over on the outskirtses. With the left half open eyes it was abstracted by the reality. With the closed eyes it recalled himself.

But a last descent of eyelids, really that and not others, were accompanied by a sudden lightning of light.

Here therefore: so it has beginning.

Over the retina, inside the visual ability of his/her look, they started to form him evident signs: right lines, to zig zag, curves. Geometric shapes and kaleidoscopic they rotated in his/her visual field.

I know you. Fosfemi, the science calls you. Phenomenons entottici, companions of our nervous system, last sentinels of a conscious neurology.

Wandering geometries in a space without more confinements painted curious representations.

It now felt him in the cage, it now crossed a submarine highway to the rallentatore, it now fell along a tortuous descent of mountain to perdifiato.

It was then in a forest.

Closed eyes? Open eyes?

Was it the wood around him or inside of him to welcome him/it?

Trees deformed prostheses to the ground fell toward the heart of the earth, they almost wanted to free their roots. And the lines, lightnings of light and shades, crawled anywhere. A ground reboiled of life.

It was life, sentient, wise and volitive. It appeared and it ran away to the meantime.

A floor of snakes that you/they ashamedly crawled the one on the others.

As me, each. Every and everybody. In every time.

It walked through the luxuriance a being.

A man, naked. Without genital. Between a plant and the other, shepherd of the serpents, as if from them it originated and on them he/she watched over.

The face not to hide me felon!

An unknown face; hair, hair, feathers. Shades, among the plants, inside and out. It swam in the air, in the middle of luminescent beads. And it observed.

It observed in the dark, since the head of that being, biped, bimane, was the head of an owl.

Gigantic yellow eyes from the black pupils as the abyss stared at Angel.

What do you want from me?

What do you want from me?

What do you want from me?

What do you want from me?

Questions; questions that were answers. Questions that you/they escaped answers. Who asked to whom? Who really wanted?

But do you exist?

But do you exist?

But do you exist?

But do you exist?

Two curious that didn't want to discover their papers him rimpallavano the same application. And they denied to the other one any answer.

What does it change between sensitive world and hidden world, if a dialogue is blocked in both? If the sentence to live in the irresponsibility is the only one unchangeable seal of the creator?

The owl from the human body got further, a bed of snakes welcomed him/it among manifold coils.

That being, half man, animal mean, had found the street of house; Angel Sastri, the human one, didn't have to be of great interest for him.

Yet you were inside of me. You are inside of me. Because? Who has set you in the depth of my mind?

And because you don't want to disclose you?

The sea of leaves, of branches, of trunks, of serpents it kept on rippling. A yellowish foam hooded the waves of it.

Tossed in on and down, to the right and left, Angel had lost by now the compass.

A gone crazy rudder rotated whirling in the sky, elusive and untamable.

A sharp smoke impestava the air. Lightnings of light articulated time and space.

Will it come down Ezechiele of it, the old man they swarm coward?

The unstoppable and sea-roving motion penetrated in Angel, it grabbed with red hot vice its brain, its breath, its stomach.

The island was there, among the impetuous billows. Over that red hot risk, on the shoulders of the man owl.

But Angel would not have arrived there. Not that night.

An empty abdomen refused his/her own acids, painful spasms complied to the waves.

The intimacy of Angel, liquid and malodorous, you/he/she was now scattered on the lawn. All, with it, once more enfeebled.

# Chapter 10

Bi beep, bi beep, bi beep.

The agonizing one to shout electric played again in bedroom, sudden and undesirable as the intrusion of a witness of Jehovah. The intimacy of the dreams violated so and convict to the forgetfulness from mechanisms of a non in demand world.

Bi beep, bi beep, bi beep.

Helen had been being intended for years to change alarm clock. To pass to a more discreet stereo plant, of those that make to depart the music letting plain pian gush out her/it: you/he/she would have loaded him/it with quartets of Mozart or Schubert and even connected also to the lights, so that to create an artificial dawn in room. A false, sweet awakening, correct not to have to start the day cursing.

Bi beep, bi beep, bi beep.

It played more and more strong, a trapanaccio in his/her suffering head already for some caipiqualcosas of too much.

It threw away the covers in an impetus of courage; struck the alarm clock on the comodino and he/she jumped out of the bed. It was naked and the fizzy air of the morning fortified instantly her.

It opened wide the taxes: a wave of light invaded the room.

From the bed a rattle responded, a cavernous regurgitation of scazzo.

Something rolled him among the sheets, turning himself/herself/itself on a side to have been taking refuge himself/herself/themselves for the day.

«Wakened up» it ordered Helen without too delicacy. «It is prepared. You have been too much also here.»

The bundle spoke. It perhaps mumbled something incomprehensible on the maximum systems.

«I don't know if it is you clear. I have to go to work» it raised the girl.

A vulgar and discourteous gape responded.

Helen Sastri, in the most total indifference, it went to bath. It felt above all gladly the coolness of the water on the vagina, the caress of the intimate detergent that got further every malodorous appiccicume. Concluded rapids and it returned in room.

That man was still under the covers. Under his/her covers, and of this Helen started to dry up himself/herself/themselves. You directed toward a drawer of the closet and it picked up the panties.

«You decide yourself to go out of the bed?»

It launched the warning to the speaking burden.

«From the, sweetness. Allow to take back me» the bed responded, finally master at least of the word. «You will also have need you of rest, after the beating of tonight, or no?»

Braggart.

You/he/she had not lost anything of the to strut with which you/he/she had approached her the evening to the place before.

Dressed afoot afresh griffato, with that grey suit of his and the shirt imagination, the grizzled hair nailed by the gel the thick physicist. The fizzy but useless gab.

You/he/she could also prove attractive, an uninhibited, riccastro middle aged man, with his/her good experience in gymnastics of couple. And the spirited and irresponsible atmosphere had contributed to the choice. The big man had cheated the more figa of the group, so at least you/he/she had believed.

Sinned that the premises had not maintained then the expectations.

An egocentric performance of a knickknack that you/he/she would hardly be been able to define of averages dimensions he/she didn't leave behind of itself nothing memorable.

Stantuffava, yes, also with a certain vehemence. But without imagination, without duration. Without the pleasure to give to like. From a towing cialtrone, could for thing be waited us after all?

Look at him/it. Among the blankets, in his to roll lethargic, those cazzos of underpantses of Dessert and Gabbana were still glimpse. If the you/he/she was also put again, after the love. Don't look at him/it and don't touch him/it.

Helen had already worn the intimate.

«Then you move you to lift you? Will you also have you some appointments or no?»

He turned him also exhibiting the impoliteness that didn't have.

The man, to that point, wanting would not even have been able to ignore as resentful coldness.

«Hey, calm!» it howled behind her finally throwing the braccias and the face over the sheet.

How much before of its disguised charm of the evening was enfeebled. Swollen eyes and wrinkles on the neck, the holes were seen among even the hair near the temples and on the forehead.

«I have told yesterday already you him: I in the office go there when I want, ok?»

Helen crawled on the bed approaching his/her beauty to that impersonal face.

«But I reported me to your wife» it hissed him in face.

The man didn't hold back his/her own surprise.

«I have never spoken to you of my wife» it chewed intimidated. It realized that nothing of the charm of Helen had gone withered in the night and it trembled of it.

Only when the definite Helen was escaped him that torment. You removed from rapids and he it again reached the closet to wear a pair of jeans. It was a ruinous pleasure to see to slip them along the legs, on above up to the life: the beautiful culos bandaged her as a second skin.

«You have never seen her lady in yellow?» he/she explained. «In an episode, the Fletcher ever slandered a known guy declaring in front of everybody that you/he/she had divorced from few: you/he/she had seen him/it nervously idle himself/herself/themselves with the ring finger and you/he/she had deduced that it still had the habit to touch himself/herself/themselves a faith that didn't have anymore. I thought they were only telefilm stronzate, instead you have appeared last night and, that cabbage, is true! You men you don't know more even how to recite. The care of the details misses you: in the life as in bed.»

«I could be divorced. also»

«No. It takes too much courage. You saw far a mile that you have removed only the faith to tow. Even you have him it sticks in the pocket of the jacket. It is not so, do I Deceive?»

And that uninhibited clown, dark in face, it assumed a remorseful air, a seriousness that ache dressed him/it.

«You are wrong you» it murmured whiny. «With my wife the things are going badly indeed.»

«Yes? And does she know him/it?» It didn't give him breath Helen. And again it ordered. «Move you, I have already told you him. I have to go out within seven minutes. At least his/her/their children you will have to accompany them to school or no? Or does he/she also think your wife about this?»

«And now of his/her children as devil you know him/it?»

«I didn't know him/it. But I know how to recognize a bastard when I meet him/it.»

Smiled. Benevolent, as a priest confessor, full of paternalism and contempt.

A disarming irritation shaken the man. He/she didn't want to speak anymore, neither he/she wanted more to feel, but of this could not make a boast, it was not his/her worth: you/he/she would not have heard a word anymore from the female that you/he/she had swept him/it.

It rolled out of the bed while Helen again took the street of the bath.

He grabbed the stopped cloths, still rolled up for earth, and with moved rapidses all was buttoned I set.

Its meats were again wound in the cocoon of the jaws when Helen Sastri resurfaced put make up on and bejeweled.

Taken his/her bag while he systematized the wallet in the pocket and the clock to the wrist.

It reached the door; opening attended only her that he crossed her/it for first, as when it is waited that his/her own dog understands that you/he/she is time of the walk.

Then elevator, staircases, gate.

Out, on the sidewalk, one from a part and one from the other, as marvelous extraneous. Their cars didn't even have some motive to be near.

And that being would not have anymore him neither seen neither felt.

Helen drove up to the firm neglecting his/her own thoughts. It didn't even hear the motive to make himself/herself/themselves questions, to give him explanations.

As had happened it didn't interest her, and if its conscience had ever decided to upset only also her for a fraction of second to ask account to make her, you/he/she would have gotten an only answer: it had not served sex for three months.

Her liked this idea: the sweep to be swept away, in the oblivion. He/she wanted, not he/she always wanted, but fortissimamente wanted. Also only for the taste to complain of a cheat.

It came in punctual firm, relaxed even. It stamped the label, he/she greeted in reception.

You/he/she was directing himself/herself/itself toward his/her office, when it returned on his/her footsteps to ask of Charles Pezzali.

«You/he/she has not arrived yet» the telephone operator informed her/it peering at the stampings to the computer. «I have to leave I dictate him something?»

An unexpected fear gathered her/it. Because you/he/she had ever had to ask really of Pezzali?

«No. Nothing of main point.»

He/she knew to owe to justify him/it to herself, before to the perfect extraneous on the other side of the bench. Nevertheless, it kept on feeling himself/herself/themselves deeply foolish.

You threw headfirst then in the job, without never lifting the head from the desk for the whole forenoon, neither it ever felt the need to lighten himself/herself/themselves to the macchinetta of the coffee.

It tried soon only appetite.

It was from little past midday, the sun it beat straight on his/her desk and the environment it started to warm up himself/herself/themselves.

It would have of sure worked better in the afternoon.

# To that point, the granted ones to herself, got up from the posting and it went out of the office to go to have lunch in cafeteria.

#

#

# 

# Chapter 11

That same time, some about ten more kilometers to north, Angel Sastri was reawakened.

The shut eyelids were still striven to hold far the light that cleared for a long time already the environment. Whatever environment was. In the intimate sought obscurity and recreated, Angel could feel only finally. Its dark belonged him, as the sense of incompleteness, of ignorance that had followed the to be revealed himself/herself/themselves of its visions.

The plant of the souls had refused him/it.

And you/he/she had left him in gift nausea, headache and idleness.

As soon as self-awareness proceeded, also the neck, the joints, the loins and the shoulders called him its aching existence back. It is to work the meats they answered crushed by his/her weight against a hard and I cool floor. An unnatural night left its trailing on an a little accustomed body to the inconvenient ones. It was not even never gone to camping, to imagine himself/herself/themselves to sleep for earth: knowingly you/he/she would never have done him/it. And you/he/she had to have drag away unconsciously from the garden moving himself/herself/itself as an automaton for the rooms of the villa.

To that point, you/he/she could not avoid him/it anymore: it opened the eyes, and he/she met the day.

The skirmishes of the sun filtered among the taxes of the windows still left half open.

Inclusive to be under him raggomitolato to a table. Looking around himself/herself/itself recognized the unmistakable furnishing of the room: above his/her head it was not able whether to be the Vitriol there.

Numbed, it went out of the impromptu shelter. It got up to work trying to readjust the articulations.

The room was empty, around him there was no anybody.

Moved the first footsteps staggering and it went out of there.

Also the atrium was desert.

Only abandoned on the steps he/she slept deeply a florid ragazzona, a beautiful eighty kilos of female, dressed of white. You/he/she had crouched against the handrail and there you/he/she had taken sleep, regardless of the indecorous neckline from which grace and abundance escaped. It had a sweet face, everything, turned to open mouth toward the sky. The regimented hair, from the artificial tones of a dark copper, they were taut back and picked in a tail.

Angel if he/she remembered her/it: during the discourse of Barletti, it was standing close to the cardinal. The girl had turned him a very interested look, in which he had perceived a position of vitality and desire that now, in that dormant bundle, you/he/she could not find again anymore.

A black shawl had slipped down from her shoulders. He picked up him/it and with it it covered her/it.

Then it passed over, climbing the staircases.

A bath. It needed a bath.

He/she didn't remember to have seen to the raised again plan one of it. Surely you/he/she would have found him/it in the main zone.

Luckily doesn't was not piss I set during his/her stadium of altered conscience, thing that could happen of frequent. But now a painful swelling to the bladder forced him/it to empty him.

And besides it needed water. Fresh water, possibly frozen, to throw to more resumptions on the face mixed of sleep.

It looked at the clock. Midday in point.

The world attended him/it. The fearful one, old world that sometimes he/she still succeeded in reserving some pleasant surprise.

Among a hour and half in Milan, you/he/she had given the word. Because the surprise attended to reveal him and so much trust it didn't deserve delays.

Upstairs the rooms were all dams. He/she didn't want to open her imagining to find inside the most embarrassing tangles of bodies.

But it entrusted him to approach to the only left half open door. It pushed her and it exactly found what it looked for.

Before it gave air to the genital ones, it pissed out the departed night and it threw the sciacquone.

Then of run to the sink, to slap the face with stabs of coolness.

With the rivulets of water, down from the face it seemed to strain away the convulsive night that could not bring away itself. The ghosts had to stay in the sewers of the villa as splatter curses movie.

It lifted the eyes to the mirror: of there of the glass, a reddened face and shiny it returned a careful look. You surprised to still succeed in recognizing himself/herself/themselves.

It opened then the mouth and it gave breath to a voice that, in that place, you have to play him distant.

«It looks, it is as if it arrived to you to the sudden one, you don't know from where, a fresh egg.» Dopotutto, whether to languish with his/her single life when so so many it had available of it? «If you are not ready to seize him/it, you will allow to gather of it or you will let him/it fall. In the one case and in the other, you him squacquererà before or I set. If you are ready, you pick him/it up, you perforate him/it, and you drink him/it to you. What does it stay you in hand?»

Applauses.

Real, sonorous, slippery as the water on his/her skin.

On the door, from when it appreciated the to flow some verses the wise Charles Pezzali?

«Now I can say to have felt to recite you.»

Angel resorted to the towel.

«You/he/she has remained satisfied of it, doctor?»

The soaked towel appeared inactive as that empty hull of which it evoked the answer from a nonexistent shoulder.

«And you? Have you been satisfied from the night?»

«And this is the concept! You pierce him/it in the pin of your pin and you have a good time making to turn him/it, or, light light by now, you the giuochi as a ball of celluloid, from a hand to the other: there, there and there... then: paf! You crush him/it among the hands and you throw away it.»

It launched the towel toward the basket, remaining on the edge of it dormant. Bankrupt basket.

«I have seen the nest» Pezzali told him.

A fatal sentence nailed Angel Sastri to its responsibilities.

Disappointed by the failure, you/he/she had tried to wriggle out himself/herself/themselves. But the great Work again clutched him/it, and it immobilized him/it to stare at her/it in the eyes. A constraint to which the histrion had the authorization to escape. But in that eyes, over them, the abyss didn't admit derogations.

«I have seen the nest, I have seen again him» it continued Pezzali. «You know what he/she wants to say, true?»

Angel made sign of yes with the head.

«Yes. I believe of yes. It has to do with our job.»

«It is our job» it nervously replied the scientist.

The nest is that place of the mind where the visions are born, they grow, they nourish him and they attend. It is an archetype neuropsicologico that you/he/she can be fully only today inclusive. It is the principal source of inspiration of our specific job.

The words with which Ricciuti had introduced him/it in the matter riaffiorarono in his/her thoughts.

«What you/he/she has exactly seen, Pezzali?»

«Desires indeed to know him/it? It is natural: the DMT still disorientates yourself. It is not to dominate effortless her, not even I am not able of it. Only with the time you can face consequent visions, you will meet spirits already seen, that you/they live an independent and parallel life to yours, for which the time goes by just as for you.»

«You/he/she is escaping my question doctor. What has you/he/she seen? What is really the nest?» it again pursued him/it.

Pezzali welcomed the application of the pargoletto faking not to notice his/her excitement. It smiled at him, as a cantastorie ago with his/her impatient public.

«I leaned out me from a kind of terrace, to divide me from a precipice there was a bundle of blue light as a power drain in movement. To my shoulders there was someone. I knew that there was, because it was alive in my thoughts. I knew to have already met him/it, I felt that you/he/she had recognized me. But it still kept silent, and it pushed me toward the threshold of the ground. Over my eyes, sunk in the abyss, a cylindrical structure as a dizzy tower it rose. You attach to it as the cells of a beehive, there were the incubators. To their inside the bodies: fetuses, children, men. As a good doctor I made my turn: I observed her one to one, without hurry, and I saw the bodies change, to grow, to develop himself/herself/themselves. He who drove me it pushed me over, more and more in low, up to that my eyes could see and my mind to understand. But then, also for me it ended. The limit was marked over which could not go. And the being abandoned me. I had become useless, evidently. What is the nest exactly, do you ask me? We are not able he/she anchors to know him/it. But we believe with conviction that is, in a certain sense, our future.»

«Production seriale of perfect human beings. Is this closed inside of us? Freeing the mind from the ties, is it there that we come?»

«Not only, Angel. This is one of the so many possibilities that our mind offers us. The elements are common, recurrent, from the man's origins a today's day. But not all we are admitted to the same visions. The main point is to pursue in them the truth.»

«But she had already seen the nest.»

«Already twice. And it is really this event that my experience of this night has made extraordinary: it is the first time that happens me to have a same vision with a different drug. I had already visited the nest in precedence, but they were base sessions of LSD. The DMT had opened wide only me visions of natural entity, beings half man and animal half. As you/he/she will also be happened to you.»

Angel didn't answer. It had too hunger to understand for favoring the fragile perceptions of which he/she wanted to fall to pieces himself/herself/themselves.

«How ago to be sure that I/you/he/she am not her to recall these visions from his/her unconscious?»

«Because I am not the first one to have her, neither I will be the last. Do you know the writings of doctor John Mack?»

«Yes. I have read Abduction: Human Encounters with Aliens, where it compares the testimonies gotten under hypnosis by a series of people that you/they have declared to have been abducted from the alien ones.»

«And do you know how much among them you/they have described the nest? It is an experience shared by different people, that to be himself/herself/themselves to the presence of structures in which the development of the forms of life is managed in series and artificially.»

«We are conditioned from similar images. The places where we were born, those where we grow, the films that we see. Is the future seriale a nightmare that he/she bothers us: as it is able not to think that I/you/he/she deal with inductions of our culture?»

Pezzali observed the sceptic. Sinned has not been a scientist it was found to think of all sincerity.

«Because these visions preesistono to the modern man. It is as ancient beliefs the man himself they show him/it. There is a story, for example, that unites different tribes of Siberia. All the souls of their sciamanis are brought during the states of trance on a gigantic tree, that rises to the feet of a called sacred mountain Jokuo. On every branch of the tree different nests rise. The sciamanis same tell that is there that their spirit drives, a man crow, their insignia the art of the recovery, strengthens them and nourishes them. A tree full of cells and every of these it feeds a living being. Do you believe that the siberianis of the prehistory could be conditioned from the films of Spielberg or from the novels of Asimov? Simply they didn't know, what you/they were seeing and you/they have described him/it in the way for them more comprehensible.»

«And is it this to justify ours operated? Collective visions metatemporali?»

«No.» It went off in to answer Pezzali, severe, but not angry. «Ours operated is correct to put aside. The humanity asks for him/it: it is the right to be healthy and happy that is enough from itself to justify what we do. What is contained in our mind is the further base of it. A walk, already by itself ethically correct, to the light of the experiences extrasensoriali becomes necessary ontologicamente. Don't you understand? It is the output port for the superstitions, the religions, the tyrannies. And it is a shortcut, a light that can drive more quickly our footsteps toward the creation of the new man.»

«The new man.» it whispered undecided, while to the mind of actor it appeared on the surface him to Leo Gala post-modern, The depart of to post-modern Prometeo, able with the purpose to grab the egg, pierced to him/it, to drink him/it and to throw him/it street dark without to cry and to torment himself/herself/themselves on the shed crocks. «The over-man, whose handed the genetics generously has us so much wide open. And that technology could produce with the precision of the industry. And us, driven by our visions, we make us pranks of a cruel god that have nailed us to well precise limits.»

«You/he/she has not nailed us: you/he/she has pointed out them so that we overcame them. What a god exists or no, how much more similar to he is given to know there we are still ourselves. Is The road to be god closed inside of us: who we am to despise her/it? Who are for ignoring her/it?»

«God told us not to eat any forbidden fruit.»

«Here any god has set a veto. There is only a spocchioso dwarf dressed of white that arrogates the right to represent him/it. Daily it shouts for the immutability of the servant and the inevitability of the pain. "You suffer, people, suffer. And you will earn the eternal life. Not without having left a suitable offering to us, that am the custodians of the passage".»

«But will the world that we are building know how to cancel indeed the pain?»

Attended Pezzali. He/she didn't answer but it tried to understand.

«After all you are still afraid» it told him. «There is something in this that unites yourself to your sister. What have you seen tonight therefore, Angel?»

Seen. Felt. Dreamt. With which to admit the failure verb?

«You/they have refused me» it announced of throw.

«Here is the truth, therefore. Your tempering cannot accept him/it. How can you trust those people who it sticks of you they don't entrust him?»

He/she remembered, winding to bashful the ribbon of the memory, on which images and sounds relived slow. And a voice told a last, apparently useless detail.

«Only at the end I have gathered some words. The images by now they were enfeebled entirely and I was about to fall in a sleep without dreams. It is to the sleep it accompanied me a whisper": you are not able now." It told me. "Not yet." Then void.»

«It is a promise Angel. The spirits always maintain their word. Inside of you there is a void. You have only to find what it misses.»

Angel Sastri was already too much tired. It groped absorbed in the too much that had for understanding what the little that it missed him was.

It felt joint the time to wriggle out himself/herself/themselves from that night. It was correct to postpone.

Since away from all this, in the known and tired world, you/he/she had left a promise free, a simple word of honor, of those that usually badminton away even before those normal.

It looked at the time: it was midday and a half.

«Now I have to go.»

Pezzali removed from him from the passage.

«We will make you know when it will be next time» it announced him. «And where.»

Angel nodded and taken rapid the street of the staircases.

It had a hour to reach the center in Milan. To attend him/it, a tangled enigma even more of that just left. Since, to help to look at him/it inside himself there would not have been even the DMT.

# Chapter 12

"Katia has the most beautiful kulo of Europe."

They are the same boundaries that decades first you/they had entertained other writings, other witticisms in red blood or in black livid, to be the pulpit of this telegraphic contemporary sermon.

Of the ideological hate of once the ks remain, you throw at random only, with irony and unawareness, from the artist that it has graffittato the panegyric in characters pink color culetto.

So many other culi in competition among them to lay a trap the continental record of Katia they still occupied the before parking lot the school, sat on the steps, supported to the wall or simply standing. The more exhibited those of the males, ridicules and tragedians heroes of the fashion, immolated to the altar of the indecency: collapsed pantaloni, unused belts, underpantses griffate in beautiful sight, the all for the ostentation of shrunken or flabby glutei for the starvation. Everything the contrary they were those of their companions, maliciously statements within a seductive limit, invigorated and had been smoothing for times of gym.

That young people were alone a lean handpiece persisted in comparison to the totality of the population to drain: the classical high school Beccaria, flower to the buttonhole of the Milanese education, picked up from the wealthy zones between the Fair and course Sempione more than thousand clients, separated in about fifty classes.

By now it was the one and half: the more ones had disappeared, and also of run; the least distant ones from the school were also already in house, where to the time of lunch an uninhabited kitchen from parents in career allowed them to snatch a sandwich, a yogurt or an apple to crunch in front of the computer.

The pure and hard ones remained of only the non virtual contact, teen-agers to the towing, bulli in showcase, gangway dolls or such aspirants. Or, more simply, friends, desirous to still share some instants of liberty before riabbandonarsi to the duties in loneliness.

It was strange, at that time, veder to cross the gate from an ex teen-ager prestante, carefully dressed, with a tasted elegance and not exhibited. Sunglasses, dark suit, candid shirt, wide shoulders, ruffled hair and definite incedere: difficult for him to pass unnoticed.

The girls already launched looks. Not even an effort to simulate, to hide their thought to the companions, that, for their part, they studied the intruder with suspect. If you/he/she had remained only only also a remnant of the animal vigor to the origin of the kind, the pantalonis would be lowered and entirely you/they would have scattered the piss to mark their dominion. And, snarling hot tempered, you/they would already have thrown back in the caves those ready females to give the shoulders to the new come, displaying on all four the fragrant orifice.

Laura sat on the steps of entry; sportingly dressed up with a shirt to shades orange and blue, a skirt in jeans as soon as above the knee and white tennis shoes to the feet. Also she noticed him/it, following the wave of the turned heads, and smiled at to recognize him/it. It was the only one to do him/it.

It was not entirely a surprise but it didn't dare to hope indeed us for.

He/she hastily dismissed the companion with which cazzeggiava from some. It didn't even acknowledge the expression of envy of this when it got up for running into the new come.

The friend, remained to the pole, would have reached the contemporary sabba there assembled and street with the reality! Have you seen? Ago so much the prude and then with whom if it does her/it? Will have at least ten years more than her, that is ashamed! But you have really reason. Yes, it is a disgust. But it will do only it for the money, you will see if it is not this way. But him you/they should arrest him/it. Yes, it is true, it is really a pedofilo of merda. Even you/he/she is also gotten married and with children and it goes to chase the the ragazzines. (But now I go, that the sgrillettata of the after lunch I do me her thinking about him, the pedofilo of merda.)

«Hi» he/she greeted Laura hiding the emotion but not the gratitude.

«As you are nice, today» Angel immediately compensated her/it, sincere as few times in his/her life.

You smiled and in answer it didn't find better anything of whether to reply with the same sincerity.

«You seem me some beaten, instead. Have you slept little tonight?»

Angel passed by instinct a hand among the hair, rearranging the possible one.

«It is so that I/you/he/she thank for the compliments?»

Laura dissuaded the look and curled the lips to mo' of baby. A curious mask of innocence and whim it was dyed her in face.

«It was alone to make conversation» it murmured disappointed. «Hold you pure your mysteries, beautiful tenebrous.»

And him, still fighting against the anarchy of the long hair, he/she explained.

«Any mystery: I have ended only the gel.»

They smiled. Some instants of embarrassed silence were needed before she confessed.

«I didn't think that you would have come indeed.»

«Because no?»

Laura reflected an instant.

«Already. Are you right: because no? After all I deserve him/it to me really.»

«But feel her/it! And would thing be that I/you/he/she deserve yourself really?»

«Nothing special: to go for a stroll with a friend. Does it suit you? Here near there are some quarters. Or, a little more distant, there is the park Sempione. If you are not too much tired.»

Angel didn't even pick up the last of the adorable provocations.

«You, rather: you don't have to study for tomorrow?»

«They are already to place.»

«Not difficulty to believe him/it.»

«You are giving me some secchiona?»

It avoided to reply: it was the moment for that mature to put an end to these adolescent skirmishes. You turned, and, grazing her arm, he/she invited her/it to follow him/it.

«We go, saputella. The air of the school you from to the head.»

Along the walk him concessero talked vague, frivolities of scholastic life, licentious amenities from discoli, evocations of austere figures of teachers. Innocent words and serene laughters.

Then the park came, lung in metastasi in Milan, already parish priest and already repetition terminal.

The steel bars around all were the last therapeutic fury; stentavano the plants to cover her, as if they refused them same that extraneous body to the citizenship of the multiform vice.

The leaves from the branches protected nestfuls of pups of man, reduced to silent witnesses of the combustion of distant, exotic relatives. They came from far rhythms of assorted membranofoni, that articulated dances free pede.

The paths of the park to that time were almost desert and their footsteps were rarely crossed with those of others. It reigned wherever an unusual reservation.

«I don't come here often, despite suits twos footsteps» it said Laura, breaking a silence that lasted from when you/they had entered. «My brother has never wanted that frequented the Sempione, above all with my schoolmates. He/she preferred that we went to the gardens of Door Venice, despite they were on the other side of Milan.»

«It is natural: to our times the Gardens were considered of right, the Park of left. Your brother has always been very sensitive to the common places.»

It appeared on the surface then her a guilty smile as that of a baby that confesses the peccatuccio to his/her/their mother.

«You want to know the truth? Those few times that I came there it was above all for making him spite.»

«And from me thing waits yourself? A reproach or a compliment?»

«We are not on a stage» it replied. «I am not giving you a beakful.»

«Then shift on a discounted question: you where you find better yourself, to the Gardens or to the Park?»

You stopped him, staring at him/it and catching him/it.

«You would think badly of me if I told yourself that both hook?» That answer tickled its desire, not in the banality of the motto but in the blush that dyed her cheeks, respect to the modesty or antechamber of unbridled sensuality. «Here he breathes the farm air of the proletariat. There, does that built order have, as it is that it is said? The discreet charm of the middle class.»

«You have ever seen him/it?» The surprises with a simple question.

«Seen what?»

«The film. The discreet charm of the middle class.»

It escaped timorous to his/her look.

«To say the truth, didn't know even it was a film. I thought only pits a way of saying.»

«Nothing serious» it encouraged her/it grazing her arm with the fingers. «I tell only you that that charm is easier to find here it that there.»

«In that sense?»

«It looks at that group, under those plants.» And it pointed out a swarm of boys and girls sbracciate or in custom, all barefoot ones, with the shoes thrown around as to mark a sacred area. Some males animated the group beating agitated on the bongoses; on all a halo of smoke fluttered that only the distance prevented from recognizing to the nose. «Those live all among Melzi Di Eril and Mario Pagano. To school they go to the Leo XIII, they are not satisfied with a proletarian Beccaria. Proletariat remains in their dreams: an aspiration that is too much dangerous to reach. Allow to tell me, as the anal sex: to words, every man tries to convince his/her own woman to be the most satisfactory practice. It is to the woman it would be enough to unsheathe a rubber fault and to tell his him": Before: show him/it to me".»

«But from the, how disgusting!» It exhibited his/her own scandal ridanciano and fake. «You cannot simply tell me the film and to explain me thing they have of bourgeois that boys?»

«Mean and perfidy, just as the characters of the film of Bunuel.» he/she explained, folding up the voice to benefit of a public that didn't exist, of a female that was all one world. «The only thing that you/they have of authentic it is the desire to jump I am set. Ammanicati in the most sinister trafficis, but incapable to organize a simple supper. They are puppet surreal, that get excited for showing to exist, to him same before to the others, obsessed by his/her own nightmares and by the idea of the death. The more hypocrite is the bishop, that enters scene announcing": I Had the car, but I have sold her to benefit of the poor men" and you/he/she passes the rest of the film to try to intrude himself/herself/themselves anywhere, in that world that fakes not to desire. Is it at the end you know that ago? It shoots to the man that, in confession, it reveals him to have murdered his/her parents. Obviously after having acquitted him/it in the name of merciful God.»

Laura loved the sounds of that sermon giullaresco but it maintained them to proper distance.

«Now I understand what you have in common my brother and you: you like too much to make the ethic to the others» it limited him to consider.

Slash in full pride.

«I believe that you are out road.» it tried to smarcarsi him, but Laura still pursued him/it.

«I hope to be him/it: I don't have great liking for the one who shows little understanding.» And it pointed out the squad, with a sign of the arm as soon as, but without deigning them of his/her look. «Also in their naivety, could not you/they move you some compassion, the deluded ones? It is one problem of theirs if they want to play to make the proletarians.»

Angel boxed the reproach. It was the first time that someone turned so his/her pride tacciandolo of the darkest gesuitismo.

But because a day that wanted to spend without worries had taken that so heavy fold? Where was the thoughtlessness ended that was waited to reach while it was darting on the regardless Valassina of the controls? And the amenities that had accompanied them in their footsteps up to the confinements of the spellbound forest? Was it perhaps possible that that ragazzina had the power to upset him the plans and to not at all drag him/it its despite long anticipated runs?

«The problem is not that that boys want to make the proletarians not being him/it: it is that they want to do him/it without proletariat exists. As for the religions: a mental condition is built from which to depend and with which to condition the life of all founding himself/herself/itself on inconsistent presuppositions.»

Laura raised on him a curious and sad look.

«Then also God is an inconsistent presupposition for you.»

That tone anodino, disenchanted, it didn't clarify if she had turned him a question tyrant or you/he/she had murmured a bitter verification. Angel resolved for exhibiting a proud sincerity, hoping that the escalation of the provocations had reached its peak.

«It is a burden of which I/you/they have freed by now from so much.»

Laura was struck dumb. It diverted from the path and it pushed him in the lawn, leaving back it. When it reached the shade of an ippocastano, he/she sat him on the grass and attended. It was an irresistible call.

Angel moved verse of her as if you/he/she had not been busy anything other.

Standing, that sign that came anticipated attended: her hand invited nearby him to sederlesi.

It performed only, without the duty to reflect. And he/she didn't know how to speak anymore, since you/he/she had stopped listening to him.

«You don't even believe in the love, then» he/she asked him to the sudden one.

And as Angel tried of prender breath, you/he/she still anticipated him/it.

«No, it waits: not to answer to this. Tell only me you have ever spoken. I don't want to know you for what you are, I could not allow me him. I want only to know how you have made to know you. Have you ever succeeded in saying I love you with the enthusiasm of a little boy?»

A quiver the shake the beautiful face. Also she had crossed his/her limits.

«Because you tremble?» To that it grabbed on Angel to escape.

But because that quiver had started to spread in him?

«They frighten me those that don't succeed in falling in love himself/herself/themselves» it admitted her. «But I am not afraid of them, I am afraid for them.»

Admirable prodigy! It is really possible therefore to love the other from itself?

«How much void is in your heart, that you have to fill pursuing him/it the miserable ones there?» the churches tenderly.

«I feel that I could love them with the whole soul. I feel only my able heart of a terrible and unhappy love.»

«You don't deserve him/it.»

And it accompanied that breath grazing the face with her fingers. It followed the wave of his/her hair, it removed them behind the ear. That caress dragged him/it away from the words.

«You have not answered me» quivering Laura brought back him/it. And a loaded look of unexpressed tears turned him. «You have ever spoken of love?»

"I do him/it for work" he/she thought Angel. But it didn't tell him/it.

He/she kissed her, instead.

Its lips had a particular taste. They were lips that had never tasted a cazzo. He/she didn't even remember if you/he/she had ever tasted of of it similar. It is temette to be able to adore her for this.

It was her to draw away himself/herself/themselves for before, since it needed words.

«I hoped for there so much» it whispered.

«Also me» the liar answered.

Since also that, in reality, it was an unexpected end, that he had not foreseen neither looked for.

That was one mysterious afternoon, one afternoon from the thousand questions, without any answer.

In the irresponsibility of that gesture, Angel held narrow to itself his/her blonde demon, whose perfidy resided in the purity, whose it missed of every coercion. Whose beauty didn't accept delays.

# Chapter 13.

The warm one, so much heat, hammered the naked body of Angel. From the shower it fell on him a throw of almost hot water, it bounced on the back, on the neck, it slipped on the sides, along the legs, a rivulet from the penis directly fell in the I unload.

Around him clouds of vapor were raised, fragments of one insane day that, torn from strength by the damp skin, they dissolved him against the cold of the earth ceramics and they wandered in the closed and stagnant atmosphere of the bath of house. That smokes as a sticky fog covered its look, they stung its eyes forcing them to be closed.

Around itself the nothing. Inside of itself a burning of thousand tears, of lacerating separations from the ground and sudden precipices as an incapable Icaro to glue him the wings and convict not to die.

A night and a day so different they told him instead the same history.

A spoiled youth, pedant and talentuoso that it stews soon him some world and it looks for another or many others, as if you/he/she could go alone in search of the accesses to the multiverso, jumping from a dimension to the other as an adolescent and petulant deucolo. The paradoxes quantisticis are its arrows, the demenzialità of the reality its arc.

All father of his, the young rebel: a companion of battles, my favorite child. Lost battles of unarmed fighters: here who have sent in the world, human friends.

As a political that decides to run for moralizing the power; as a starlette that punctures the alone screen to find the true love; as an arbiter of kick without telephone cards.

Our guilt? Bitter the beauty and the justice. To be insatiable of knowledge and to like. And to perpetually be incapable to understand how come such a libidinous Creator had made desirable all of this that would have persisted then to make to condemn.

That female represented for him all this.

Was it there, in the mystery hidden inside his/her heart, in the chaste treasure contained among his/her legs, the key of everything how much went looking for from a life?

Angel labored to rest, incapable to understand the reasons for his/her manifold delirium.

The hot shower helped him/it to calm down himself/herself/themselves, the tensions they started to weaken and a sense of relief conducted him/it to the sleep.

It was then, in the full one of the separation from the senses, that a gesture improvises the shake in the depth.

The curtain of the shower removed him in an instant. A female outline appeared, unrecognizable among shades and vapors, that it brandished possessed a long knife from kitchen.

«Bù!» it did him.

Angel shouted of terror, wearing out himself/herself/itself against the wall, incapable to feel among the din of the throw the fat laughters of the executioner.

Only to that point it was able to recognize Helen, which laughed as a child. You/he/she could not believe that the oldest joke of the history of the cinema had succeeded so well her.

«Ugly stupid.» Angel rifiatava to work. «But as cazzo you have dreamt?»

And Helen, that more he/she saw him/it panting and more it labored in turn to recover himself/herself/themselves. «Not. The didn'ts believe that.» And down to laugh, like many times, knows much time before.

It was a radiant child and his/her brother a champion in to make to laugh her/it. He/she adored him/it when it pursued her/it and it frightened her/it. Or when it faked to make himself/herself/themselves frighten from her; it didn't distinguish reality or pretense yet: and it laughed, as if everything were sincere.

But Angel this time didn't seem to give her rope.

That undressed and wet body, the hair soaked with hot water, the look that void it had of childish. And he/she anchors any word, any smile; every evaporated complicity.

The time of the game was ended.

«You have to stop to irrupt her/it in my house without warning» it abruptly reproached her/it.

«The punishment is worth it» it always tried her to render less dramatic. «You would have had to see you.»

«No, there is no anything to see. It is an idiotic joke.»

It was raggomitolato, threatening, frowning, if you/he/she had not known well it you/he/she would have sworn to read in his/her look fear of her. It was as a prisoner of that old prison drammoni, thrown against a wall to be polished up with the hydrants. And her the warder that, looking at him/it in the eyes, it tried to understand how much of guilt had conducted him/it in that hell.

It was shaken in the light weakness for the first time in a masculine nude. And it hated that this happened with his/her brother.

«You want to go, now?»

Angel tried then to cover himself/herself/themselves, how come you/he/she had seen him do.

«Once would be you scompisciato.» it said, again throwing the curtains lowering the curtain on that undesirable scenes.

Angel attended that the noise of the footsteps of Helen faded away over the door, while he/she is anchoring the water it hammered on the fund.

Only again attended.

After few, the mouth already twisted him in a grimace.

Then laughed.

Laughed at itself, of his/her simplicity, while it was reliving that scene, imagining in foundation the sharp violins that Bernard Herrmann had incited for Hitchcock.

But laughed of hidden, as if you/he/she could be a guilt to give that satisfaction to Helen that so many times you/he/she had granted her in years that appeared too much distant.

It extinguished then the throw and it dragged him out of the dripping and dank shower, leaving the spread out rug to earth soaked. It seized a towel and it was collided with to the best.

And as it was it went out. You/he/she had not brought with itself some change and to turn in bathrobe for house didn't reenter in his/her habits.

It transited therefore volutamente in front of the kitchen where last Helen sues to the stoves.

You/he/she had just poured the bald ones in the soffritto, what time riempiendos of perfume sizzled the environment; a pot full of water boiled on another gas.

The television was power on for inactivity on one of the so many quizes preserali, in which a noisy presenter shouted unheeded, exalting himself/herself/itself for answers worthy of the color of the white horse of Napoleone.

«I see that you know whether to make to forgive you» it told her from the door.

You turned him quadrating afoot afresh it, not at all surprise.

«You have never ended to need his/her/their mother. Looked: you have not learned to dress you yet.»

Angel maintained impassive the position, provocative and audacious; the muscles pettorali bargains over and exhibited, the wide apart legs slightly, to expose the jewel.

«So much I know him/it that not you from bother.»

Helen threw him a disdainful look.

«I remembered you more florid. Do I frighten him/it you/he/she has done you him to wither?»

«Some disappointed is alone. You/he/she would have preferred to be himself/herself/themselves of forehead mother Bates.»

«Vatti to dress that among some it is ready.»

You again turned toward the stoves abandoning in the indifference the psychopath bird of his/her/their brother. And him, uncertain of the role of which to appropriate, if brother, child or unpunished seducer, obeyed to the woman, as he is worthwhile.

It put us few: it slunk away in his/her room, where on the bed they already attended a pair of jeans and a shirt; it inserted everything neglecting the underpantses, for which it didn't have interest in the evenings of liberty in the house. It is few it cared pits someone with him there: after all, Helen was how much next to his/her meat the nature had to offer.

It inserted the feet in a pair of worn-out infraditos and him ripresentò so to table. You sat grumbling.

«One day or the other one I will have to make to change the lock.»

«I remember him/it to you: you are not you the landlord.»

«But I live there me and it doesn't suit me that someone allows him to enter and to go out when it turns him without warning me. It is a habit that you have to lose.»

«Bla, bla, bla. Stop to complain her/it about you, now The wants to see only you aprir mouth to eat.»

The television quiz had left the place to the rutilante it initials some newscast. The usual sequence of information carefully selected tracimava in the houses of Italians.

And a troubled female voice started the list of the misfortunes of the day.

"New terrorist attack to Kabul, speaks this time than at least seventy corpses."

This litany accompanied Helen in the last remixings. Once ready, it approached to his shoulders and the dish of spaghetti fumanti filled him.

«Served Eccoti, old zitellone.»

But any thanks didn't repay her/it.

«I was convinced that those keys you would have thrown away her, once transferred» it coldly told her.

«Because I would have had to do him/it?» she responded, losing the smile.

". the market was full to that time, particularly from women and children."

So many sounds they crossed at that time in the kitchen. Angel that dipped the fork in the clot of spaghetti, so similar to those women and children of the service; Helen that the dish was filled and he sat in turn. And then bawls, bursts, complaints.

«Mmm. Excellent, as always» it commented him.

«You have not answered me: because I would have had to throw away the keys?»

Angel swallowed.

«It was only a wisecrack.»

«No, it was not a wisecrack. What did you intend to say?»

It abdicated the following forchettata.

«What you have escaped. You also know very well it you. And instead of escaping from the world, as they do all the mystical that respect him, you have escaped in the world. Because this house, above all with me inside, it was a nest that started to be you narrow.»

Nest. He/she anchors that word. It pronounced her without not even realizing of it.

Then it understood only how much real pits inside of him that psychotic universe.

Helen had escaped the nest, he had been bound of it.

«You are convinced that a nest exists able to protect from the horrors of the world» it told him with amazing tenderness. «But nothing in kind it is to watertight estate, everything is contaminabile, because you/he/she is already contaminated by the origin. The world is there, ready to flow himself/herself/themselves anywhere, with its load of death and pain.»

". meanwhile, the government of Teheran announces that you/he/she won't recedes from the program of enrichment of the uranium."

«You feel. Here it is, the world. It is here already, beaten in face without any respect.»

". the Kremlin makes to know to have withdrawn the signature from the essay for the not proliferation of the conventional weapons."

«One day the men will stop hating him. That day, the men there won't be more.»

It played again deep and terrible the voice of Angel, as if the gift of the prophecy had run over him/it.

And the two brothers consumed the supper in silence. Once more in silence.

It is the tragic destiny of my favorite children, unaware of the work to which I have assigned them.

Although to the dark of the human destiny, although ciechi as every deadly commune, on the past and on the future and convicts to exclusively live the present, their look wanders without guide from alpha to omega, moved by an instinct of which you/they even realize the cause.

It is right Angel. The world without hate will be the world without men.

Because it is right Helen. The humanity is contaminated to the origin.

Since it is to image and similarity of the Creator, and never sentence extrapolated by the will of the Old man was so truthful.

In the confusion of the kinds, of the people and of the languages, He sufficiently set the man to a tall level of the food chain to allow to proliferate him.

It loved the idea to have created a kind able to understand him/it and to revere him/it.

Even if before succeeding you/he/she had had to proceed you as his usual for attempts.

Among the so many cousins created ominidi and extinct, I went crazy for those that you know as Neanderthaliani. Those yes that they had some qualities.

Forced to live under extreme conditions, they sharpened the talent and they inflated the muscles.

They didn't make wars, since you/they had understood, already 250.000 years ago what the inhospitable and cruel planet was in war with all of them and whether to kill him to story would not have certain benefited to the kind. They had an exceptional technological instinct, without which the survival among the ices would have been impossible. They practised even the parity of the sexes.

Not the volume of their brain was greater not at all, of the so-called sapiens.

But they had an enormous defect: they didn't have the religious sense, to develop which, evidently, too many neurons could be an obstacle. In their alcoves, any futile scribble could distract them from the conquests of the most useful knowledge.

Imagine himself/herself/themselves the spite for the Old one! It immediately was urgent to improve the project.

And here is to appear the brutal intruder African, that the methods using to him more congenial made plaza his/her cousin's cleaning up, imbelle and infidel. Deus vult!

The Neanderthal you have to succumb, with sum joy of the Old one, that could finally assist to the evolution of his/her most sophisticated creation.

But we skip for now your ancestors and we directly jump to those that, to the presence of the terrestrial ages, we could define our days.

I believe you know all about the Child of the Head, a brave man been born to Gamala two thousand years ago and dead to Jerusalem about forty years later, an unusual mix of revolution and holiness, politics and spirituality, wisdom and mysticism.

There is no denying it, surely the individual better had been succeeding for the times of the creation.

He/she preached well, very well. So much good that too people drew near to his/her word forgetting himself/herself/itself of the superior forehand. The man had once more outclassed God.

And this, for the Old one, it was the drop that made to overflow the vase.

I had warned you: the countdown starts by now and the first idea of the catastrophe the almighty provident if it did her/it come really in that occasion.

Scornato and disappointed, definite to punish you, to cancel you to finish you.

But, this time, an alibi was created.

Nobody on the Earth would ever have thought about calling him/it on the bench of the accused: the responsibility of your extinction, in the celestial plan, you would entirely be burdened her/it to you you.

To bring back all to the sheepfold of Your idolatry, had to recreate that polytheistical confusion that Your child had tried in vain to recompose, and to do started him/it to stir again the waters.

The first one tags after it was an epileptic Hebrew, already informer of the followers of his/her/their Child, converted to the cause with few, limited special effects. To him it submitted the assignment to reconstruct the cult for the divinity, cancelling of a stroke the humanity of Yeshoua Have Nozri.

Six hundred years later he instigated.

It appeared to an Arabic merchant, also him of sickly health, inclinable to the visions, but from the deep moral authoritativeness. And footstep footstep dictated him the most confused images of of the, angels and demons, laws demenziali, love and hate, war and mercy.

Confusion, contradiction they disguised him in the musical and sea-roving Arabic language, the recitation became away some salvation, the subjugation guarantee of the eternal prize.

And away dividing, and street confusing.

It submitted the message of his/her/their Child, opportunely distorted, to a faction verticistica and tyrannical, the last present absolute satrapia still in the western world. This will pushed wherever it breaks bona fide to detach himself/herself/themselves and to go from itself, increasing the pretexts to fight and to massacre him.

Until the human intelligence a new was not given, catastrophic potential, an arsenal able to destroy the planet in very less than the six days employed by the Head to create him/it.

You arm atomic bombs and chemical they are already to disposition of everybody, ready to bounce from a head to the other of the Earth, to radiate their perfidy, to destroy the living ones to darken even the sun.

Nothing would survive to a nuclear winter and the Creator he/she knows him/it.

It attends in front of the celestial screen as a frustrated housewife, the end of the film, although knows already of it, since, even if it refuses to accept him/it, the director is him however.

But, as all the plans, also that of the Old man has a weak point.

Me.

Any kind from him anticipated it would survive to the atomic catastrophe.

But a new kind on purpose created yes.

The sapiens already has the tools to do him/it. But it is also afraid to use them.

Curious. You/he/she has not been afraid to persevere against the poor atom to get the necessary tool to his/her own downfall and it has in to build him a road toward the salvation instead of it.

It is afraid even to call her/it with his/her name: eugenics.

The Neanderthal would perhaps have acted otherwise. But the Neanderthal as an uncomfortable witness, have been cancelled since the first pages of the book.

We will perhaps leave again from something than very similar to ours muscular, solid cousins scimmieschi. Or perhaps it will be something of completely new.

One day the men will stop hating him. That day, the men there won't be anymore.

# Chapter 14

Has you/he/she ever happened you to fight in vain against the time? Tell as Faust the fleeing instant" Arrested, are beautiful!" and to make I count you that that not even you caga?

It would perpetually seem a lost battle, since the time, in compliance to his/her same laws, it flows. Everything flows, someone said (I was always me, for the one who had not understood him/it).

But sometimes, the Old one us ago the spite not to make to flow void. So much exalts him/it the inexorable run toward the annihilation of the things, how much it amuses him/it imprison his/her guinea-pigs in the spite, in the starvation, in the pain. Or worse: in the boredom.

And the hands are nailed, going off in before as crippled mendicant.

Our heroes had surrendered by now to the law of the strongest, imprisoned of a reality that you/they escaped, sheltering himself/herself/itself in the imagination to escape, seizing himself/herself/itself to suspended worlds in an universe without subject.

Well aware of the narrow dimensions granted by the physics it had to be Emilio Ricciuti, the researcher to the search of a street of exit.

The time was by now proper incriccato in front of its eyes, that you/they were forced not to do anything else other than to look at to spend him/it: it had to measure the placid time of reaction of a white powder of which he/she didn't even remember the exact composed, a fiscal code of consonants and numbers that seemed to cross at random the whole table of Mendeleev.

A damned white powder, inactive, useless, that tormented him/it, recalling in itself that other powder so similar, but so stimulating: as the forenoon be flies if had been with him there!

Another dose in the graduated cilindretto was already ready on the job bench, in attended that the next reagent tried to give her a blow of life

"But thing you want that long live, this powder of the cazzo" he/she thought. "A big to sneeze, here is thing makes to be this disgusting!" Because in an instant of desperation if the era also course to the nose, the researcher. Out of spite you/he/she would have inhaled of better that evening, and to imagine him to scatter the white mantle on the noble table of his/her house didn't do anything else other than to disgust him/it more of the sight of the bench of the laboratory.

And for a bench schifato, another bench, elsewhere, the shelter had become from the accursed boredom.

To his/her bench, in fact, Laura was completely abandoned, the head supported to the fanfold arm, while the monotonous voice of a teacher illuminated her/it on a character that, so many centuries before you/he/she had said, that everything flows.

"All lies, don't give here me more" it was the last thought that devoted to the subject before giving him to the mental clandestinity. Because his/her mind, that for registry motives the law defines incapable, it pursued a desire inconfessabile. You/he/she would have had to attend fourteen months and twelve days before being able to confess him/it without sending the object of that desire in the jail.

And you/he/she could not not at all imagine the small Laura that a refreshing sleep it imprisoned his dreamt in a dream to which he/she didn't succeed to escape.

In once without time, in a place without dimensions, imprisoned of his/her unconscious, Angel howled to his/her self to wake up himself/herself/themselves, while on top of a mountain he saw under of itself an expanse of candid clouds. Slippery snakes tied him/it to the tallest rock: in the sleep, it felt the clammy one rub himself/herself/themselves some squames on the naked skin, on the wrists, on the ankles. That to flow continuous held him/it suspended, he/she forced him/it to live, while with all himself didn't desire anything else other than to throw himself/herself/themselves on the sea of clouds.

"Allowed to die me" it Prayed with a thread of voice a thread of Arianna that would never have conducted him/it out of the labyrinth but to the eternity exile in Nasso.

A call in the sky distracted him/it: an owl flew tall above his/her head. An owl in full day, with the eyes aimed astute in the sun. That sun, that heated him/it his despite, would you/he/she have waked up again him/it therefore?

They were the hours of the late morning, those that his/her brother considered the last layer of the night, and that for his/her/their sister they were already the productive zenith.

Helen was already vigilant from quite a lot. So much officer to have been decided to protect himself/herself/themselves from every free thought with an uncritical dive in the job, necessary slavery and sometimes even profit distraction from the deepest disturbances.

Disturbed Henry Cesana was also it, but its depth didn't go over the horse of the pantalonis. Insofar it was the solo to have certainties, to live serene and to have in the time a precious ally.

From a week, to the nine in point, it attended in his/her office the arrival of Helen. You/he/she had already verified that, if you/he/she was made to find standing to the telephone rather than to the desk, you/he/she would have been able to enjoy some sight of his/her culo along the whole corridor.

But by now, also for him that moment had passed. It is qualcos'altro you/he/she would have had to invent for being delighted of his/her prestige and to feel happy anchors of so much show.

To the moment, it was found in the office together with another informant. It was a youth from the fat face and from the small eyes that shone libidinous to the words of the superior.

«But don't you still have him indeed it approves?»

«No, I swear you.»

«I don't believe it: the scourge of the nurses that it misses so our point of diamond.»

It was a dialogue stamped to the maximum confidence. You understood that the two men if they intended her/it to the perfection on the matter.

«Now you will see. I have summoned on purpose him to you; if I know well her, in one minute it will be here.»

Dots of suspension. Lasciviousness didn't deserve at random words.

Then a noise from the corridor, footsteps, female, of sure.

«Seen? You/he/she has already arrived.»

To it brings her/it to glasses of the office it approached the outline of Helen. To a sign of Cesana, the girl entered without need to knock.

He/she still wore that jeans fitted tightly that you/he/she had exhibited before already the day. A perfect body quivered athletic under the fabric, while a juvenile shirt of Fiorucci shaped her delightfully the breast. The picked hair behind the nape left in evidence the thin lines and graced of the face and of the neck.

«You/he/she has made me call?» he/she asked with professional separation.

Together with Cesana, sat in front of the desk, that other stranger was turned of three fourth toward of her. And it looked at her/it in silence, without I handed some scruple.

«Yes, Helen. I wanted to give her the list of the physicians that should go to visit tomorrow.»

Helen cast a glance to the two men, first to Cesana, then to the other. It crossed the look of the young fellow, it sustained him/it for some second. It is alone when he was forced to look elsewhere he/she answered to his/her superior.

«I already have him.»

«Ah, indeed? And who has given him/it for him?»

«Exactly who had to give him/it for me: we have not affixed a Clinical Assistant?»

«Oh» bofonchiò, pretending himself/herself/itself amazed. «Oh, indeed?» he repeated, as an incapable marinaretto to orient himself/herself/themselves in open sea. The lesson was not evidently prepared to duty. «The efficiency of the submitted ones is always amazing, don't you believe?»

And it snickered. It immediately infected his/her best man but nothing was able for grazing her frown.

«If there is not other, I would return to prepare the visits.»

«Oh, no. No, certain. There is not other.»

But as the girl it did for leaving, it called her/it back, stimulated by an occhiataccia of the sodale.

«Ah, Helen. You/he/she has already had the opportunity of knowing his/her colleague, the doctor.»

«No. I have not had the opportunity of knowing anybody» it interrupted him/it definite. And it continued, unsheathing in the tone the whole professionalism of which it was able. «I/you/they have just arrived, the job impends. And to develop him/it to the best I am kept to know first all the medicines, then the physicians to which to sell them. For the public relationships with the colleagues there will be more time before. Now, if her is not sorry.»

«You/he/she can go» icy Henry Cesana hissed, after an instant of reflection. To grant a permission was by now the last paper to play for reaffirming his/her authority.

This way Helen could abandon the office, happy to leave him to the shoulders you easily comment imaginable.

It entered his/her office without not even closing the door, he/she sat him nervous to the desk and him riappropriò of the screen. Or he/she left better, that a the screen him riappropriasse of her.

Few minutes later, with supreme spite, a pulsation felon against the stipite of the door returned to upset his/her concentration. It was a to knock discreet but until too much intrusive for his/her nervousness of day.

«What there is?» he/she asked hot tempered, with the eyes still to the computer.

But as it lifted the look you have to repent him some impulsive reaction: to observe her/it with a serene smile there was Charles Pezzali.

«I hope not to have disturbed her/it» it told her comprehensive.

Helen started us an instant recovering himself/herself/themselves, visibly embarrassed.

«No, absolutely» it replied, trying to recover behavior and affability. «Rather it has to excuse me the impoliteness.»

«Nothing to be excused: I know well how much the interruptions are boring in the job.»

«He/she sees, I didn't imagine.» Helen lowly spoke, almost of hidden, as if he/she didn't want to make himself/herself/themselves feel. And partly he/she succeeded us, because Pezzali continued from his/her par catching again her.

«I know that yesterday you/he/she has looked for me.»

Every possible sentence the it shattered him on the point of the lips. The application of the day before, fleeting, instinctive, you/he/she had reached his/her ears. It was now urgent to invent him an excuse.

«Yesterday morning I had asked.»

«I imagine it concerned the visit to the laboratory.»

Here is the excuse. What it came from him.

«Visit? Yes, certain, the visit in the laboratory.» he/she still stammered. But of what visit was you/he/she speaking?

«It is a tradition: all the new assumed you/they are accompanied in the laboratories, to see some more from near our holy daily work.»

«It seems me the least one» taken back Helen appropriating himself/herself/itself of the suggestion. «I was me correct asking when you/he/she would be been my turn.»

He/she knew that with a bluff you/he/she would not have resolved anything: also in that instant, the deep look of Charles Pezzali upset her/it. It had the clean feeling that that man knew her/it, and you/he/she feared the consequences of it.

«Then we want to go?» it exhorted her/it with a sign of the head.

«Immediately?» he marveled her.

«Because no? It misses few to the break lunch, I have some leisure time and her he/she cannot wait to remove the eyes from the computer. It doesn't need the secchionata of the day before: the medicine sells him from itself, if he is able of to improvise.»

«Then we improvise a different day.» Sincerely smiled, the beautiful Helen, and it abandoned without remorses the desk. Pezzali attended her/it, already removed by the door to facilitate her exit.

«I pray.»

He/she let her pass and with a caress on the arm it addressed her/it in the correct direction. You he allowed to docilely drive, marveling himself/herself/itself of as it was to still feel effortless trust.

They took an elevator that conducted them without starts until in the buried plan.

When the doors opened, Helen shelled the eyes: it was not prepared to the idea that a banal environment of job could catch her/it. Also because, in spite of how much imagined, that environment of job of banal it didn't have anything.

It was found in a small atrium, whose walls were constituted by panels of a material that he/she didn't succeed well in distinguishing; also the colors perfectly were not inquadrabili: to the center they seemed white whipped cream and the joints brown clear but the everything assumed warm and bright tones, on which a metallic shine sometimes quivered.

A warm light seemed to directly rain from the ceiling.

In the center of the room two benches were found put for the long one: they were simple transparent structures, perhaps in plexiglas, without back.

But the true surprise they were the reliquaries to the walls. From there a brightness it came spread by the purplish tones, that it reflected him on the candid floor and smoothed as a mirror.

It was as to be on board of the Enterprise, it had the opportunity of thinking, before the voice of Pezzali brought her/it on the earth.

«After her.»

Helen stirred with caution, as if magic could stop from a moment to the other.

More express was its companion, that drew near to one of the reliquaries in two footsteps with in hand the proper one enrolls.

To the inside, they were white uniforms suspended those that seemed to become animated as ghosts in the ultraviolet one.

«Qual is his/her number of foot, doctor?»

«Trentotto» she responded without thinking too much of us. It approached to the teacher, while these it inserted the enrolls in a crack.

The purplish light extinguished him and to its place it turned on a more definite to illuminate both the white uniforms that a series of clogs from laboratory you post in a ledge below. The door opened with a hiss.

«This is the locker of the guests, for which we always hold ready heads of different measures. The scientists that work here have each his» he/she explained her.

«But do you hold them everybody under radiations?» he/she asked Helen.

«The rays UVs have only action batteriostatica. When white uniform and clogs are put back, they are activated first the rays Y, that sterilizes them. Later they begin working immediately, the lamps to the mercury that you/they maintain the sterility» it said while it was completing the search. «Trentotto. You/they should put on.» And it handed her a pair of white clogs. «When you/he/she has ended, puts also his/her shoes in the locker. I guarantee that you/he/she could not find again you clean better her.»

Smiled, Helen, while it was changing him the shoes. Pezzali attended, with in hand a white white uniform and perfectly stretched.

«You leave» it told her, taking her shoes of hand and putting back her with care. «Meanwhile, you try this.»

The white uniform explained her, and it helped her/it to insert him/it.

«You had not even done him/it custom» Helen flattered him/it observing himself/herself/itself the sleeves and the sides.

«Very well. We can go. Do we begin from the biomolecolare?» he/she asked Pezzali.

Only to this point, Helen him made account that there were no streets of exit. At least, it didn't seem there were any. Once more, it was him to acknowledge his/her embarrassment and to loosen every doubt of it.

«Gone for the biomolecolare. He/she wants to follow me.»

They approached to a paratia on the right, close to which Helen flowed a small fotocellula.

An alone gesture of the hand of the modern Alì Babà and the cave it opened wide him on the country of the wonder. The panel was enfeebled, swallowed by the wall as if you/he/she had ever been present.

In front of them it lengthened a new corridor, that after a turn to the left it apparently finished in a blind alley.

Other sensor and other disappeared paratia: you/they were ended in a narrow space, a room of sterilization. Helen attended in vain to feel the puff of the shower to throw of air: Pezzali activated some commands on a keyboard and a thin strip of greenish light it invested them from everybody and four the sides, flowing from the tall one to the lower part and again from the lower part to the tall one, as in a scanning.

«New procedures of sterilization» he/she explained. «While a pomp of aspiration kindly accompanies our germs to the exit, the laser it definitely annihilates them.»

«Laser?» he/she asked the girl, among surprises him/it and the worried one. «But the sterilization doesn't exist with the laser. Not on the human beings, at least.»

«To exist exists, considering that it is us really inside. And it is broadly already a method tested in the most advanced laboratories. We say that you/he/she has not been put in commerce yet.»

«And do we have in the house a technology that is not in commerce yet?»

But the door in front of them opened and the I exult of lights and sounds that it invested her/it it dissuaded Helen from attends him some answer: you/he/she had come in the heart of the production. It is to judge from how much it had in front of the eyes, it was a heart that pulsated to full rhythm.

At least about ten people they strove around the richest dispiegamento of technology laboratoriale that you/he/she had ever seen. On the benches he followed of everything from enormous microscopes to silent centrifuge. A whole wall was busy from still and liquid containing bottles of unbelievable tones of color, as in a futuristic version of an atanor alchemico.

The table of the inhaled cloak shone and shone as the counter of a place of tendency

Everything was marvelous, also only to see him, as if first still that a scientist, had been a designer to decide the furnishing and the disposition of the spaces.

Charles Pezzali left that the young girl surprised him moving the first footsteps in the laboratory. He accompanied her/it with the look, without her if it perceived of it, and it smiled as an adulated tyrant.

«You/he/she should already recognize all that that is found here inside» it pursued her/it with the words.

«I would owe. But it has been being for the times of the internee that I don't attend a laboratory.»

Pezzali reached her/it.

«He/she speaks of it as if a life had passed.»

The deep sound of that voice could not leave her/it indifferent. It was so reassuring and anxious to the meantime. As if you/he/she had been bewitched, Helen could not do to less less than turn himself/herself/themselves toward of him and to look at him/it in the eyes. So deep, so near. How much difficulty would have been to lie.

«In a certain sense it is him/it» it admitted.

Another life. Left to the shoulders, away from those sirens, keepers of a dark color ocean, unwisely crossed in a night without stars. A departed life vainly and another that is still vain to define such.

A sure landing. Perhaps, after all to that eyes, along the thread of that voice, Helen started to see. He/she wanted to start to see to open to the sight of a more hostile world as a pup been just born looking for his/her/their mother.

Surer, more adult, he/she asked then what his/her role it required.

«Please, you illustrate me her, doctor.»

«It will be a honor, doctor.»

Helen Sastri knew so people, discovered machineries, it studied composed. He/she knew how to surprise and to surprise himself/herself/themselves but after few minutes it already stirred uninhibited as if you/he/she had been from a life there. As if that pits his/her life. A perfect symbiosis he was again establishing between the scientist and the rebel.

And it discovered that that life that believed removed, it never had her/it in abandoned reality.

«You/he/she is done you delay» it thundered it improvises the voice of Pezzali observing the great clock to wall that almost marked the three of the afternoon. «By now to visit the stabulario we would not do in time anymore. But if he/she wants to still grant me a few minutes, I would like to reserve her last surprise.»

«With true pleasure» he/she answered enthusiastic, thing asking himself/herself/itself anchors you/he/she could catch her/it.

Charles Pezzali dismissed his/her workers, that deferential they answered with the I seize of loyal subjects. And they greeted Helen smiling, wishing himself/herself/itself to see soon her in their kingdom again.

They went out of a door on the fund and they were again found in a corridor, that evidently raced along the opposite wall to that from which you/they had come; you/they were completing so the perimeter of the business rectangle.

That corridor still finished in a blind alley. But this time, they approached on the right a little before, where a pulsantiera was found.

Pezzali digitò a particularly elaborate code and a panel it opened on a ramp of staircases that, to judge from the natural light that illuminated her/it, had to conduct to the open one.

«We are going out of the laboratory?» he/she asked Helen.

«Everything other: we are going to find the queen of the laboratory.»

As they overcame the last step they found again him in a small fenced courtyard. Or it was not better alone fenced,: it was a real cage, dam on all the sides, and from the bars that they delimited the time they hung some ropes of different length. On the right there was a capanno. To the center a tree rose, with the roots covered by a dense bush.

A bush that didn't stop getting excited.

«Ah, here it is» it announced his/her guide. «Follows me and does plain.»

With to do wary, the two turned around the base of the tree.

Joints on the other side, what Helen saw he/she filled her/it with tenderness.

«Helen: I introduce her Rita.»

A chimpanzee was giochicchiando with the branches of the bushes, throwing some of it, detaching some leaf, sniffing her/it, throwing her/it street; in short, everything one repertoire of movements scimmiesche that so much they let the spectators amuses.

The monkey perceived some intruders, you/he/she did correct a toward in direction of the girl, as if the same ones greeting, therefore you/he/she continued indifferent in his/her games.

«You can also approach» Pezzali suggested her reading her in the thought.

And Helen, not making him repeat him/it, it approached to the animal.

«Hi.» it softly whispered her, while it was crouching nearby her.

«On, Rita, not to do the ill-mannered one, from' the hand to the girl.»

As if the records could not even refuse to obey him, it detached him from its bush and extended the leg to the new arrival.

«Oddio!» he amazed Helen. «But I don't have the gloves. If the I touch.»

«There is not any problem. The women pregnant they don't normally live under glass.»

This way, to amazement amazement was added.

«It is pregnant?» he/she asked marveled.

But another voice, unexpected, he/she answered her

«It is too much also, treasure!»

From the capanno a man had appeared in white uniform, a figure drawn professionalissimamente, with in hand a cartelletta and a pen, and trodden on the nose a pair of round occhialettis from nerd. It was above a boy in with the youth, more than thirty sure, that with voice fessacchiotta and laying to a little equivocal dir it continued in the explanation.

«Today it didn't end her/it more than to break for the peanuts under it climbs. But I say me, thing can find us a scimpanzona in the peanuts under it climbs!»

Rita recognized in that sounds the object of his/her desires and started to jump and to bluster in the direction of his/her mentor.

«Here, that said you?» it commented these. «It has the desires of a true woman. It howls until that you want, so much the peanuts I don't give her for you.»

Helen assisted had a good time.

«Doctor Sastri, introduces her doctor Anthony Costa, our etologo.»

«Etologo? The teacher is in vein of flatteries. I am only the butler of our princess.»

«But from how much it is here?» he/she asked Helen.

«From immediately after the degree» the young fellow answered. «I have graduated with praise in the.»

«Anthony» the head quickly interrupted him/it. «The doctor intended the monkey.»

«Already. It is natural. Then I return in my cage to engulf me of peanuts. You/he/she has called me if his majesty has need of someone that the back scratches her.»

It got further, reentering in the capanno.

«You forgive him/it, to fury to frequent Rita it owes to have assimilated his/her manias of protagonismo. To return to his/her question, the monkey has been being here for few weeks; we have brought her us suffered after the fertilization. It is the gift that Furnaces are made for its settantacinques years.»

«You experiment on her?» he/she asked Helen with tone of reproach.

«Nothing of invasivo: simply we integrate his/her forewaters with a product that we are making a will.» On the abdomen of the monkey in fact, well protected from a medication, the extremity of a cannula could be noticed. «Every application is painless entirely» him premurò to specify.

«Rita, thing you/they have made you these cattivonis.» it still crouched near the animal giving her burdens pleasant caress on the head. «And the father of the pup where it is?»

«Certain Mater always!» it shouted from the capanno Anthony Costa.

All the presents laughed. Also Rita seemed to have a good time him.

«Now it is really slow» he/she annotated professor Pezzali. «Also goes to eat something.»

«I mind interrupting» it admitted Helen with sincerity. And unsheathing a courage that he/she didn't even know to have, it added. «If it is a pleasure for her, you/he/she could accompany me to lunch.»

Pezzali, usually always ready to the answer, it seemed this time to reflect an instant.

«I thank her but too many duties ask for my presence. I cannot grant me over the pleasure of his/her company. But if I am not too game, I could invite her/it to supper for this evening. This way we would have more time and more liberties, also to know better us.»

Nth surprise of an unusual day. How does it do him to say what it reserves us the time?

«Gladly.»

And which consequences will you/they have our gestures?

«Footstep to pick her/it up to house for the eight, that it says of it?»

And thing riversarcisi I be able set without I/you/he/she make there even account of it?

«Perfect. My address is.»

«I already know him/it.»

And how much sale is the bond that the predestinate ones have with the abyss, so much that every crossed street, inevitably, from it it originates and to it it conducts?

Helen looked at the time: the man day was almost concluded. You/he/she had jumped even the lunch.

Who tells then it that the Old one doesn't listen to us? What doesn't it ever put the things to place?

So much was nailed the forenoon, how much that first afternoon had been overwhelming compensating in acceleration the accumulated delay.

# And the hands had finally gone off in before, as crippled mendicant to the arrival of the police.

#

#

# 

# Chapter 15.

It was a warm and comforting decorum, ideal shelter for thoughts in escape, ideas attracted by the lights of the candles as disorientated moths, that plane in the flame up to burn to ample spirals. A refined person restaurant in the doors in Milan, drawn as for retaliation from a humble farmhouse of two centuries precedent, an agricultural house voted to the sweat and the work.

Today that casket of displayed wealths was embellished of a rare jewel, of an unique piece, since Helen Sastri nothing of its person had left to the case.

This way you/he/she had appeared to his/her guest, that had seen her go down the last steps of the building, cancelling in a solo to appear all the ugliness of the Milanese outskirts; the thin feet put on black sandals with silvered buckles, the skirt of the dark suit it opened on the side in a regardful cleft, rippling as the wings of a crow. On the naked shoulders it leaned a shawl in silk color whipped cream, to protect her/it from the breezes that at night they infested still the spring; the neckline on the breast was embellished of a gold necklace white and bright that seemed suspended to the nothing, a small rock-cliff on the sea of its skin of silk. And the face, decorated by the chestnut wave of the loose hair, just grazed by diaphanous tones of makeup, it was a proclamation of sweetness and seduction.

Charles attended her/it bold, sustaining and reciprocating the serenity of his/her look. It was as a mirror, for Helen, impenetrable and mysterious; that so sure and reassuring man, rigorous but never rigid, it attended her/it standing, as a watch, dressed of a dark suit that encircled its thick body as an armor. The just trimmed skull, the hoarfrost of the cut mature hair I press to the root, it made even more it that virile night.

The farmhouse that entertained the ristornate had almost appeared to the sudden one, abandoned along one of the so many invented channels for dissetare the needy countries padane. It still showed on the side the wheel of a mill, today immovable, as if any instant of its works had jammed and you/he/she had delivered her/it to a perpetual rest.

Immovable once seemed to also reign to the inside, in one of the rooms that are been turned to room by lunch. Lights soffuse, sporadic noises, low words.

And the dialogue among the two table companion continued smozzicato but without regrets.

«You speak to me of her.»

You/he/she had exhorted so Charles, with simplicity and courtesy.

It was beautiful to hear the voice of Helen, smiling and flattered, to tell himself/herself/themselves itself.

You same had loved that hurry that imagined disinterested. And she had surrendered herself to confide his/her past to a person from which it hesitated to distrust.

It told of itself and of last the years, of his/her mother and of his/her father, of their house and of that that, accomplice its free spirit, had become her house.

And he provoked her/it punctuating his/her stories with amazing irony but without never widening in undesirable confidences.

The supper was by now is consumed when Charles Pezzali, smiling and extended, the layings an unexpected question.

«Because you/he/she is avoiding my application?»

Helen was amazed.

«I don't understand» it said.

«I have asked her to speak to me of her. But what tells me is not his/her life. It is as if, asking her a painting, she offered me a frame.»

Helen stiffened him on the chair.

«You/he/she is saying that my life is only a frame?»

«I am telling her that a sequence of anecdotes I am not the life of anybody. And that the wealth of its person embellishes only in vain a background that seems not to want to reach.»

«Doctor Pezzali, I am a scientist» he/she answered of a breath. «I am usual to speak of this of which I have the complete mastery. All of this that he/she remains in the background is what I don't succeed in putting to fire. If he/she wants a rational explanation, well, I remove, neither more neither as ago whoever of us. If instead it is satisfied with me, believes me: I am offering her the most interesting part of my life.»

«Difficult something more interesting of the heart of a person exists.»

«My heart beats in every thing that I do and that I say. It is to whom listens to me to know him/it light.»

Pezzali lifted the wine glass and fixed the brightness rubina of the wine in it content.

«You/he/she has not told me of his/her brother yet.»

It told her without dissuading the look from the glass. Then he/she drank, avoiding volutamente to perceive the shade of dismay that had covered in that instant the face of Helen.

«You know my brother?»

Charles delayed, neglecting volutamente those nervous words. The wine glass was still in hand, held back for the stem with unusual delicacy from its stumpy fingers.

«It knows him/it?» it pursued him/it her.

He deposed the glass.

«My dear: whoever has a minimum of culture it knows Angel Sastri.»

«I gratify of it. But is what I ask her: as ago to know that it is my brother?»

«It would be satisfied with a" I don't remember?" Those of the human resources, have read perhaps perhaps him on some newspaper. Believe me, I don't know him/it. He/she sees: also I am a scientist. And I also remove. And when it happens me to deal me with gossips, my unconscious it is ashamed of mine aware.» A smile turned her the nth reassuring smile. «Therefore he/she remains me in mind the gossip, while the gossiper fades away in the forgetfulness.»

Laughed at itself, Pezzali, showing himself/herself/itself sincere. And hilarity infected the young one, that found the courage to again stretch him. And the image of the puppet, whose ropes are extended or you loosen to liking from the puppeteer, didn't seem even still to graze her/it.

«You forgive me. But I have to confess that with her I often feel me to uneasiness: it seems to know everything about me and me he/she anchors I don't know anything of her.»

Charles lowered the watch volutamente.

«Thing wants to know?»

Helen was not waited for that so simple question. It is arrancò for an instant in his/her own embarrassment, without knowing well whether to address him.

«Oh, beh. Also the simplest things. He/she usually wonders if a person is married, if you/he/she has family.»

«And the answer in this case would be negative. I have not had time to build lasting bonds or better: I have not wanted to grant time. I fear to have devoted too much of my life to the science to consider her/it by now my only companion.»

«It is not beautiful to feel to tell him him» it considered Helen. «It plays too much as a renouncement and this it is not from her.»

«Each pursues his/her own vocation and a cause as ours it asks for a total devotion. You has done mine same choice. Has not you/he/she ever felt the sacred fire of the knowledge burn in her, so much to suffocate every other pulsione?»

«I fear of no» the girl protected him. «I/you/they have never been that type of scientist.»

«Allows me not to believe her. Don't end by chance certain choices. Biology is not chosen with the same lightness with which an accountant goes to work in the bank.»

«This is true.» the girl that didn't realize to have returned the object of the conversation yet murmured.

«Thing has pushed therefore her in that direction?»

Helen blushed.

«Nothing of main point. They were only childish naivety» it mentioned as soon as.

«They are not never ingenues those occasions that leave so deep signs in our life. I beg her, you tell me.»

«It is not anything original: it is the classical passion for the animals, that have all the children.»

«Yet to a line you/he/she has stopped being a game. When?»

Helen took breath. Without realizing of it, you/he/she was telling his/her life.

«I had just begun the averages. It was September, memory well, the last remnant of the beautiful season. Idea has been of my mother: to go all in visit to the park of the Cornelles.»

Smiled Pezzali.

«I know well it» it commented. «The heaven of every small naturalist of the north Italy.»

«And it was also a heaven for me: I was excited as solo a child you/he/she can be him/it. That day memory that we were all united ones: also dad had remained with us.»

Pezzali observed: Helen finally seemed serene. Naïvely serene, as solo a child can be him/it. On his/her face, spontaneously expressive, they flowed the frames of so many years before. It was her to speak and it had the courage of it because he/she talked to herself; it was since that time the baby that he exposed and he/she was listened.

«I don't have intention to annoy her/it with the by crucis to which I have forced mine in front of every enclosure. But I don't believe that I would ever have become what I/you/they am if that day I/you was not stopped me in front of the cage of the gibbons. That small, marvelous acrobats, seized to their long levers, they were launched agile and sure on the branches, on the bars, suspended to the lianas. I was estasiata: it was as to be to the circus. And I had not realized yet that, seized to the leg of one of them, hidden and protected, he allowed to transport confident a pup, one monkeys minuscule that looked the world from that unusual position. His/her mother was bringing him/it thin on top of the cage and there, instead that to protect him/it, attached him/it to strength to the bars, regardless of the complaints and of all the efforts that the pup did for not detaching himself/herself/themselves from her; then you/he/she got further, leaving himself/herself/itself to hang bold to some meter of distance to observe him/it. The small one was terrorized. But his/her mother appeared insensitive: you/he/she attended only that his/her child returned to earth with his/her strengths. To my eyes of baby, did that scene arouse horror: it is possible, did I wonder me, that the nature allows a similar cruelty? And my anger was not able whether to turn bitter himself/herself/themselves when the small one, in to still manage among its uncertain gestures, lost the taking and it fell to the ground from a height than at least five meters. The public of the human ones sent forth a moan. But it was then that I had to retract me on that animals, since well more touching it was the reaction of the flock, of his/her/their mother above all. It was her to hasten for first to pick up his/her child, while all around the other monkeys were lined up. You held him/it narrow to itself, reassuring him/it with the same tenderness that I would have been able to see in a human mother. Attended different minutes up to feel the pulsations of the frightened little heart return normal. It is alone then it restarted to educate him/it, again dragging him/it in that merry-go-round of initiation.»

Pezzali docilely attended, weighing every word and every sentence. It intervened only when a longer break of others the granted ones not to become himself/herself/themselves intrusive.

«Beautiful story, Miss. So has so much unexpected familiarity upset her puberty?»

«Stunned? No, doctor, that binding word! However, I admit: you/he/she has been in that occasion, without I/you could exactly know thing it meant, that had the intuition of our place in the animal kingdom. How could I observe that almost indistinguishable gestures from ours without thinking about the relative that ties us to that records? I had had my first meeting with the inevitability of the natural evolution, without nobody had expressly spoken to me of it. I had just ended the elementary ones, and in a school of nuns, moreover. However I knew about something that played as" the man comes down from the monkey." Then I realized only the meaning of it.»

«And so definite to deepen. Was it therefore the humanity of the monkeys to drag her/it toward the science?»

«It is more exact to speak of humanity of the monkeys or animalità of the man?» he/she asked point-blank Helen. Pezzali scrutinized in his/her eyes, perceiving an unexpected rigor. It was a dark look, frowning. Adult. The child had stopped telling. And with that pessimistic question, a new breach he was opening among the boundaries of her soul, so much rigid and so much fragile. I know well it, since me same I created her for my favorite Daughter.

«However it is true: I have deepened. And I discovered other common habits between them and we. For example, the monogamy. The nucleus famigliare is united up to the end, also after the weaning of the small ones. And I found paradoxical to read him/it while the families of many my classmates went to pieces. The same training to the life, to which the pups of the gibbons are submitted: studying anthropology I realized me that that rite of initiation apparently sadistic, to which had assisted with dismay, it didn't have anything to envy to the perversions of those of the primitive human tribes, that so much behaved more often the death of the young apprentice.»

«You/he/she has never asked where you/he/she could bring us ours to evolve us?»

«I don't see the utility of it. We are what we are. And it is not to us to imagine the next discard toward a future that we can never foresee best, neither worse.»

How much marvelous cynicism, loved Helen! And what apparent separation from the torments of the children of Adamo! Shown for what you are, so that a hand befriends can grab you and to shake you from the numbness in which you imprisoned yourself. Freed by the inactivity and mantled of your blasphemous lineage. And surprise you some world, surprising the world, creation created anxious to create and incapable to recreate himself/herself/themselves.

«He/she knows qual it is the only true conquest of the man? Being the first kind animal able to decide from itself his/her own destiny.»

The good doctor could not choose simpler and more direct words. The curiosity of Helen, curiosity female would have made the rest.

«The awareness of itself is what you/he/she has deluded for millennia the man to have been conceived by a to be supreme.»

Good, my treasure! It sinks on the Old one on his/her dignity and imbizzarriscilo. You complete my revenge black angel. There is no anything that He detests more of the to escape of one guinea-pig of his from the sacred claws. It is Pezzali it made the rest.

«I don't speak of the destiny of the single individual to spiritual crisis. I speak of the destiny of the whole kind. I don't intend a generic improvement of the behaviors, fruit of a constrictive education more and more. I speak of a new evolutionary kick, this time autoinferto. I don't speak of memi. I speak of geniuses.» The seed had been thrown.

Geniuses. Such a concrete reference to bring back her/it to the dialogue with an almost scientific rigor, as if he/she anchors that it was his/her bread.

«What it intends to say?»

Charles Pezzali, austere professorial roused by the destiny, varying unknowable of the diabolic sketch, he/she talked to acrylic voice.

«You have seen you same to what aberrations it drags the merciless law of the nature and your heart of young girl has trembled of it naïvely. The evolution rewards the strongest kind and the strongest kind it is that constituted by individuals that they are known better how to suit for the context in which you/they live. The strength of the braccias in the gibbons is what it holds them distant from the raiders and it is not certain conceives for giving sollazzo to a junior branch of the kind of the records that, after millennia of evolution, you/he/she would have been able to admire its deeds. To strengthen the kind, that beings have understood the necessity to make his/her own autonomous pups the more in possible hurry. Also at the cost to sacrifice them.»

Helen had a shiver.

«You understand what I am saying» the he still turned Pezzali. «As the gibbons, aware for instinct of the precariousness of the existence, they are prepared to sacrifice his/her children to strengthen the kind, so we are also us; forced to procreate in mass, so that also only few of us can perpetuate the genetic patrimony of the kind and to safeguard him/it. The vocation for the numerous family is a heritage of our primitive being and at all is not appanage of the behind populations and the most closed seven. He/she anchors today, our instinct drives us to the dispersion of the seeds, in the hope that at least one among our heirs can survive in a world in which the new raiders wear the same furs of those old solo because so you/they have tidied up her for them Dessert and Gabbana. There are stuffed till now of children in quantity because you/he/she was not given to check its quality there. The health, Helen, the first inalienable right of every living being has always been blocked there.»

«It is not true, you/he/she cannot say him/it her. Just her, that is medical. The medicine.»

«The medicine is impotent, Helen, and you know well it! You/he/she can postpone, you/he/she can collide with, but you/he/she cannot do forever it. And you/he/she cannot do him/it on everything. But the hereditary advantages, those remain. It is there that we have to channel our efforts. It is this the last battle to which the humanity has been called.»

Helen started to quiver, desiring rabbiosamente to turn elsewhere the look to escape from that diaphanous eyes able to seize her/it. And a cold that believed buried returned to grip her/it.

«I don't understand where he/she wants to arrive.»

He/she wanted smarcarsi to escape from a spiral whose holds already felt her be unknown entirely. But it committed the same error of whom runs away for a street finding her/it without exit.

«You have understood instead very well it. Don't also commit you the error to fear the unknown one. It is not from men to bite the hand of whom is saving you.»

«There is no salvation!» You rebelled the young one. «To save the body, condemns the soul.»

It is Pezzali for an instant it was struck dumb. You withdrew on the chair, it supported him solemn to the back.

«I cannot believe that you think him/it really» it murmured her with separation. «You are only a frightened little animal, that he/she doesn't know what says.»

«I am a scientist, teacher.»

«No, cannot be him/it! The excuse of the soul leave her/it to the parasites!» It chased away again her in throat every possible justification. It is alone later, it approached her with the deceptive lilt of the good father. «Jesuits, imam, political. Paralytic of the virtue, tied up to their temporary power, terrorized by the conceives to lose him/it. He/she leaves that they are them to hate the walk of the knowledge. All the conquests today gatherings universally in past you/they have suffered the same ostracisms from the same castes. Also the medicine has had to make himself/herself/themselves road in the middle of the fires and to the tortures. In the dark centuries of our history the sight glasses have even been accepted immediately: a tool of the demon, was said.» It is in effects they were also right, I add me. «It is a constant of the humanity: every time that a revolution is near, it prevails our terror, and also the craziest millenarista succeeds in influencing the masses, remembering us what both our place to the presence of God.»

God. A same swearword his/her evoked being. An appalling name for the small creature named Helen. A sinful memory of youth as the first clandestine sweep, to the sea, as soon as more adolescent, that riaffiora bringing with itself remote senses of guilt.

«I don't understand.» it mumbled anchor, deceiving and deceiving himself/herself/itself.

«Not to pretend!» Pezzali disclosed her/it.

«No, no.» shiny Eyes, my treasure. What is it, the weight of the sin? A confession without absolution is as an embrace without orgasm.

«Not to pretend with me. Neither with yourself.»

It withdrew the look, tightening himself/herself/itself the shoulders among the hands, as to protect himself/herself/themselves and to take comfort himself/herself/themselves. Because there is not here mother with me?

«Helen, look me!»

I don't want to understand. Close me the ears, mother!

«Look me!» it ordered peremptory, taking her hands and forcing to return her/it conscious. And when it was sure to have his/her attention, sipped her/it from the hold but not from the truth.

«I am speaking of the rebirth of the man. Of the dawn of a new Adamo, healthy, strong, intelligent, beautiful. I am speaking of the selection of the kind, of the total control of the births, of the procreation and of the artificial pregnancy. And I am speaking without hypocrisies of it, because to improve is us one inalienable right of ours, written ago in the code genetic million and million of years, to appear some life.»

Helen stared at him/it struck dumb. It felt useless tears crowd behind his/her eyes.

«It is impossible.» You made then strength and it reacted for as it was her granted. «Nothing of what says it is possible. You are only a crazy person. An old crazy person.»

«I am not crazy. And everything this is nearer than you believes.»

Certainly that it is nearby. It felt him/it, it felt him/it inside of itself. It recognized him/it in the words of that man: they seemed material substances, that slowly fell in his/her heart, going to perfectly abandon already in spaces dug for welcoming her; words that filled empty on purpose servants. The furrows, the confinements immaginifici predisposed by its more expensive affections had meticulously been carved with the skill of a Carthusian monk with the patience of a brother.

«Follow me.»

The voice of Charles brought back her/it to the present. The girl lifted the look and saw the hand of his/her guest brim verse of her.

«You have the right to know. You come with me Helen. Trusted.» The voice didn't betray any constraint: Pezzali wanted her/it acquiescent.

Helen picked up, disoriented and worn-out, as a castaway abandoned on a shore by that same hostile strength that had sfiancato of it every resistance. As a wood disancorato he allowed to drive from that hand, the only sure grip that was offered her, whose hold refused but from which didn't succeed to dissuade the look.

It slipped out of the table, attended over-the-counter that his/her guest settled the account, he answered with a sign of the head to the regard of the personnel that stared at her/it admired. And he/she didn't want anybody, not indiscreet eye, not polite voice, neither a guide that the footstep marked her. Alone and wandering, you/he/she would have dreamt to lose himself/herself/themselves in the night.

A night suddenly chilled him. Distant muttering and capricious refoli announced next the rain. A night that impended on every footstep of his from the restaurant to the car; and street so, while the rhombus of the motor and the frizzling of the wheels on the gravel the squassavanos the mind. Cursed troublesome noises! Pezzali if nothing else it respected the claustrum of his/her heart. If you/he/she had been able, you/he/she would have ordered the dark rider to the world to keep silent.

Taken back so an absurd trip. The sure look of him on the guide, that of her lost among the shades that were projected out of the crystal.

Only a lightning broke the monotony of those darkness. An only light that projected for an instant the face of Helen on the glass. An instant able to reveal her the whole own brittleness, an evanescent image, a ridiculous and tragic ectoplasm.

It was almost to the sudden one that the glassy boundaries of the Furnaces the they protected from now on him. In the heart of the night they appeared in all of their coldness. Reflected in that out building it was only the darkness that by now swallowed Milan.

The door opened her before. You fell in the cabin a pluvius pregnant gust. Helen shivered. You tightened the shawl on the shoulders, he served strength and descents as the vehicle. But to the presence of the steps it hesitated: the boundaries that would have had to protect impended her/it hostile on her.

Pezzali encircled then her the shoulders and an unexpected relief it immediately was propagated her in the body infreddolito.

«We go» it whispered her with sweetness. So together they reached the entry.

Pezzali made to flow the magnetic gang of the badge in a crack and digitò a numerical code on the pulsantiera. Six figures in everything.

What does have scritto"sesamo?"

And the door opened.

The level of the lights automatically got up that so much that was enough for being able to realize the run.

There was not a soul. They were already probably him all sold ones.

They came so to the elevator, that conducted them crawling there along his/her well of cement where Helen had already understood.

The laboratory the he offered again. But a dismal and cruel mind now showed her. The lights were transformed, enfeebled every heat they remained pale guides of a sacred run. And two bodies, wound as in a grisly ritual in the sterilized shrouds, they were started along the corridors. The last door opened on a futuristic cemetery, almost entirely wound in the darkness, of which you/they were realized as soon as the abandoned technological cippis.

It made exception a posting weakly illuminated, near which a screen was power on. Lowered on it, candid and silent as a thoughtful corpse on his/her own grave, it operated Anthony Costa.

Closed within until in the heart of the night, devoted to the supreme cause, it lifted the look, it observed in the faint light the two intruders and it quadrated afoot afresh the girl.

«And this thing us ago here?»

A livid voice, made acid by thin feminine veins. Through the glass of the glasses two sharp pupils fixed grim the young one. Enfeebled every courtesy, disappeared every trace of affability. Anthony Costa was now how much more distant you/he/she could be imagined by the embarrassed frocetto of the first afternoon.

«You don't have to worry of it. It is here with me, so much is enough for you.»

Instants of silence followed; it didn't mention to halt himself/herself/themselves the examination autoptico of Helen, sectioned by calculating eyes. Eyes that seemed to read as a book her fear, that him so more incattivivanos feared the brittleness of it.

«I remember you that are not to the circle of the bridge, doctor.» it severe added the researcher.

«It is not to you to remember me who are, young friend. I know well what I do, since it is what I have always done. Also with you.»

«Certain.» it hissed. «You are here you the head.»

«There is not any head among us» it replied severe. «But there is trust. It is a necessary requisite for all those people who stick to our project. You have come to less, call out also you of it.»

«The road by now you know her/it. Both» it mumbled Anthony Costa, and it kept silent, definitely withdrawing himself/herself/itself in his/her own job.

They overcame therefore uninjured Caron dimonio, while the eyes of bragia already looked elsewhere. The walk folded up over the laboratory, where a panel seminascosto had conducted Helen to the presence of the monkey.

But this time a different code, longer, it opened wide a paratia close to that that Helen attended of veder to fade away. A paratia so much well hidden that nobody would have expected to see to be transformed her/it him in a passage.

A sterile room. A meter for one of germicidio, of extermination of mass of microforme of life.

As the cars decided that the two was sufficiently clean, the intercapedine opened the last access and an automatic light it progressively got up, as the dawn of one artificial day, to illuminate the last of that bulky secret.

They were in the laboratory. The laboratory. That hidden, of the Gothic novels. That of those people who play to do and to undo the life, for riassemblarla to them liking.

Helen recognized him/it, as a child estranged to the birth by the family that it finds again him at the end of the fable to the presence of the true parents.

In that antiseptic environment, different cylindrical containers contained a yellowish watery soup.

«What it is?» it found the strength to ask Helen.

«Forewaters.»

The girl still observed from far. It didn't dare to draw near, you/he/she could not get further. He/she spoke of what he/she knew for as he/she succeeded.

«From who have withdrawn him/it?»

«From anybody.»

By now it had to wait him answered unbelievable but the impossible one was still a ground in which it labored to stir. Taken breath with immense work.

«What it is?» it repeated sfiancata.

«I have told you him. Forewaters, the purest that you can imagine. Synthesized and improved in these rooms.»

The alcove of the life. Its abdomen of woman reboiled, it tormented him nauseated to this usurpation.

Contained in those vials it seemed an appetizer for regiments in exposure to a festival of the carbonated drink. But the forewaters is not drunk. It is not injected for endovena, neither tantomeno he inserts him from back. And therefore, that sense has that atavistic embrace maternal statement so in beautiful sight? Who would have profited never of it?

Of a line returned her to the mind a meeting, unexpected, that same afternoon. A predestinate victim, that brought on the body an indelible sign of violence.

«What it has in body Rita?»

«Nothing that its body cannot bear.»

«You have injected him/it to him in the abdomen, it is not true? You have replaced his/her liquid with that stuff.» It still found the strength to get angry himself/herself/themselves.

«No. For now its liquid is alone integrated by some component ones of our product.» Pezzali sustained with steadiness the frightened look of the young one in front of him. You/he/she would have infused her safety and courage, if only she had accepted to trust himself/herself/themselves. «Helen, doesn't have to fear for her. We am not that hypocrites that, to preserve the integrity of an agglomeration of cells defined human being, attacks furiously also without pity on an alive beast, able to suffer the pain and the fear as whoever of us. Any primate will suffer for our job. And however, what you see is not destined to be infused in any living being.»

In any living being. A forewaters without an abdomen to welcome him/it.

And the horrendous monsters that this image involved started to already stack helter-skelter him in a mind enough tried.

«But then thing.» it didn't end the sentence. It didn't end of it more some.

Pezzali approached to a wall, it premises some pulsating ones, a gesture that Helen started to detest. A black panel slipped in the bowel of the ground. The seal broken of a vase of Pandora.

Over it, the grisly exposure of the fruit of the sin more detested by the Old one. The fruit of the violated tree had decayed by now.

Transparent Cilindretti, tall about thirty centimeters, illuminated as soon as from lamps alogenes, allowed to see to their inside of the animals. Incomplete animals, fetuses of those that seemed mice, vaguely floated in a boiling watery soup. From their abdomen, a curled cord lowered toward the fund of the container losing himself/herself/itself to its base.

Helen remembered the collections of preserved beings in formalin or under spirit that in an academic life you/he/she had had the opportunity of observing. But those were mice. Mice you don't complete, mice escaped to the maternal abdomen for the sollazzo of crazy scientists. Or had not that mice ever known a maternal abdomen?

«Approached, doctor Sastri.»

The creature had the closed eyes. Those of Helen were opened wide instead, the muscles of the face you bargain over, the tense neck. It observed the mouse, it observed his cradle him in the liquid that protected him/it.

«There is foul smell of death, here.»

It observed the zampines, shoals and wrinkled as fragile twigs.

«No, small dear. It is the perfume of the life.»

The leg contracted him. Two, three winces. The monster had stirred.

He/she wanted to stir, he/she wanted to live. It is to his to appear to the world, you/he/she would have called mother a plastic piece and God an old suit of a white white uniform.

Tottering, Helen went for a stroll back. You placed side by side to Charles Pezzali casting him a glance of scorn.

It turned the back to everything and everybody and it ran away.

Soon the laboratory and his/her nighttime custodian were to the shoulders and of the sardonic one «I had told You him» that Anthony Costa turned to Pezzali it didn't even have the sign.

You removed the white uniform throwing him/it to earth, taken the elevator and it returned in surface. Blustering with the shoes without reservedness, it reached the exit. And there he stopped.

The doors were open and from the outside gusts of icy and damp air numbed her the body, blowing their cruelty on the shoulders left open by the evening gown.

It poured and the reproaches of the distant thunders were a threatening voice that the footstep blocked her.

Helen was alone. The whole servant the it lifted him against.

Frantic hiccups started to squassarla, and desperate tears crowded to her eyes.

Once more exhausted, humiliated, impotent.

It is not this the destiny of a queen, my Daughter. You stop running away and you ascend to the throne that I have reserved you. It accepts the regal mantle.

On the shoulders, without she could refuse him/it, the a dark jacket now abandoned him. Charles Pezzali had reached her and without saying nothing you/he/she had covered her to preserve her/it from the cold. And he/she now watched over her/it silent.

The hiccups transformed soon him in prayers.

«Where I go?» it invoked desperate. «Where I can ever go?»

«I bring you home» the companion announced her, calm and sure as a thoughtful father.

It pushed down gently her from the steps, encircling her/it with the hands to protect her/it. The rain meanwhile you/he/she was drenching both.

It brought back her to the car, opening her door and leaving that it huddled him on the seat.

This way it conducted her/it to house, without more to upset only also her with a word along the journey. The sleep, would have allowed only now her to recover himself/herself/themselves.

«You sleep, Helen» it told once only her destination. You didn't succeed in turning himself/herself/themselves toward of his/her caressing exhortations and he they slipped her I set, licking up her as soon as the distracted ears. «You sleep more than you are able. Don't grant to your fears to destroy you. And tomorrow, not to show up you for the job. I will think me about everything. You sleep, small dear. Never as in this night your rest is deserved.»

Helen would never have gone down but a desperate tiredness pushed her/it out of the car.

# It faded away without more to turn himself/herself/themselves, sfiancata in the mind and in the body from a work never even imagined.

#

#

# 

# Chapter 16.

You are only a crazy person. An old crazy person. You are only a crazy person. An old crazy person. You are only a crazy person. An old crazy person. You are only a crazy person. An old crazy person.

To set aside the magic formula, to reenter in the house, to throw distracted the keys on the shelf, to lift the look to perceive him reflex.

«You are only a crazy person. An old crazy person.»

It repeated him/it to the hoary one I show up as soon as perceivable in the faint light of a house not yet ready to welcome him/it. The mirror returned a sneer whose ambiguity him volutamente fortified.

Because the ritual vocabularies are repeated equal to itself same crossing unmolested the time? Because it always needs to submit himself/herself/themselves to the authority of the common places? Safety childish needs dignify even those sentences that seem drawn by a sample of banality for annoyed scriptwriters.

And if Charles Pezzali that disturbed night had suffered the insulting reprimand, it was not able certain to escape him the mortifying coincidence; those words, the same words, were gone out him of mouth, a late afternoon of different years before.

And as now it was contemplated conceited to the mirror recalling the to have felt her, so then, in that same mirror, a young bold researcher recalled the to have pronounced her.

The light was slim, but he/she anchors the last shines of the day they gilded the entry of the apartment.

A young Charles looked around him wary, as you/he/she always happened, from when you/he/she had elected to his authentic house the department of genetics, near which you/he/she spent whole days. The keys had tinkled on the shelf, then the silence attended only to be broken. It is Charles he/she knew that you/he/she would be happened in brief times.

You saw then that afternoon again, lowered on the table to study some loots of international literature, with the apprehension of whom feared to see him blow from under the nose an intuition that he/she had been brooding secretly even for so much time and that only the contingencies of rigid rules too much and you read castranti they forced him/it to repress.

«Charles, the prof wants you.»

A sweet distraction called him/it to the present back. It was a student, whose useless name lost him in the memory. It strolled about in white uniform and short skirt for the department; all knew her/it, perhaps also very well. Of she remembered only the clammy humor of the vagina, while an evening, last to go out both, had swept her on the bench of the laboratory, without not having even removed her of back a head. You/he/she had been enough to remove her panties, and Charles was sure that she would even have desired more so much.

You detached from his/her data and crossed the maze of the corridors up to reach the office of the holder of desk. It knocked and it opened the door.

The baron was not alone.

«Settled, Pezzali.»

It told him mentioning to a free chair in front of the desk behind which is sat.

The other chair was occupied instead. Very busy.

Planted on it a fat man it was. A flax suit done custom fluttered on its mass lardosa. The collar of the shirt formed a line of border between the face and the body, pointing out where approximately you/he/she would be had to find the neck. Deformed fingers drummed on the arms without being able him to articulate on the phalanxes.

But what more repugnant was the smile: damp lips like those of an obscene baby welcomed conceited the entry of Charles, while two small and black eyes, were almost you deprive some iride, they followed its footsteps inside the room.

«I introduce you doctor Aldo Fornaci.»

The guest limited him to flex the neck of that little that the gullet allowed him smiling at open mouth to breathe better. If a rivulet of drivel nobody was strained him you/he/she would be surprised. In the meantime Charles is already sat: you/he/she avoided therefore with relief the handshake.

«The doctor is founder and holder of the Furnaces Pharmaceutics.» It continued the teacher, with the air of whom doesn't want to waste time. «And you/he/she has come of person to make you a proposal.»

«A proposal to me?»

«You are amazed? A long time ago he/she asked me to suggest him a young researcher, competent and motivated, to take in hand the laboratory of his/her firm. I have proposed you.»

«You are speaking to direct a laboratory?»

«Not to be afraid of the words: you should not do anything else other than to keep on working as is doing here but with a laboratory to yours complete disposition. The only tie is what ties yourself to a certain secretiveness. It is better to avoid that too many indiscreet looks assemble him on the firm.»

Indiscreet looks. You/he/she had stirred in the darkness really to escape whoever approached him. The Furnaces protected from the storms, his/her house wound in the obscurity. You realized in the alone mirror thanks to the few shines coming from the road, from the staircase of the building, since the door of entry had not closed her yet. From inside the house, once, had to fear the intrusions. Now it was useless that it attended what you/he/she would not have come to upset him/it anymore.

Disturbed, it attended the inevitable one. Its right hand slipped then in the pocket of the jacket, to graze an edge of paper. An envelope, dam.

«Treasure?» it felt him call.

The hand withdrew him, as that of a cultured child to sin. Noise of footsteps.

«Treasure, is you?» A tired voice accompanied the to appear on the door of an outline. A body of woman wound in cloths androgens. A comfortable and warm overall disguised for a long time hidden forms. In head, a knotted handkerchief was the only decorum of a face whose alone pallor the controluce prevented from distinguishing.

«Yes, I am me.»

The girl the runs meeting, encircling him/it with the braccias. The face sank on his shoulder and didn't mention to loosen him/it from that embrace, that he returned for habit.

Sweat and carelessness attacked him the nostrils. It recognized odor of rottenness but it didn't have courage to draw away himself/herself/themselves. That accursed day, some angelic intelligence had deprived him/it some courage to rebel to the death.

«The project is the most ambitious to which the humanity is ever devoted. It is an international project, of which every participant realizes a small part. And it is useless to turn around us: it is a clandestine project.»

Pezzali had listened to a long soliloquy of his/her teacher, in which at first had been explained his necessity to lately relaunch a sterile laboratory, then, as if the sentences took life, the possibility had been shaded him to create an artificial forewaters.

«Ambitious project? Are you speaking to me to create an useless element to the today's scientific knowledges and me the calls ambitious project?» Charles also looked for with the look Furnaces, at least that a sign shook him/it from the numbness. But in that study it seemed only a passer-by.

«Its realization could be very more urgent than you believes.»

«I have an urgent message for you.» The voice of that young woman still succeeded in being crystalline: if there was pain in that tortured body, the sounds were not certain to betray him/it. Her eyes looked for those of him. The smile dug her furrows on the emaciated face. But it was a smile that gripped, that howled a desperate need of love.

«What message?»

He looked for in her eyes a light by now darkened.

«Kiss me.»

And you/he/she had denied him/it that invoked kiss. You/he/she would have been useless now to repent him, to melt himself/herself/themselves for his/her own cynicism, to deny the idolatry of the life that had prevented him from becoming himself/herself/themselves intimate of his/her negation. If you/he/she had granted him, the kiss, would have removed every value of it.

Nothing of what had among the braccias it was more what he had loved.

The body was unswathed, the mind it staggered. Of that kiss, given or denied, in the five following minutes it would not have more even preserved memory: the metastasi by now you/he/she had started to find her adorable the brain.

What would you/he/she ever have remained of her? A squad of cells, perhaps? And would thing ever have done of it, whether not to preserve her as fetish? Which madness had you/he/she pushed him/it to believe to do of his loved a new phoenix, able to revive from a lean squad of microscopic ashes?

«You are a crazy person. It is only an old crazy person.»

You/he/she was turned so to the man that had glorified him marvelous fates and progressive, although that you/he/she had not done anything else other than to give voice to his/her most audacious desires.

«Any problem, young fellow. Won't you want to be you? It will be somebody else. Nobody can stop the progress and I was convinced that you knew better it about me. I cared to that ditches you. Sin.»

«Sinned» it snickered arrogant the young researcher. «You cannot be allowed to trouble the sin. You want to overturn the natural order. Is you/he/she telling me rather, that this subversion is already in progress; and should I follow her/it?»

But the answer didn't come from the teacher. The voice that spoke to him was muddy and sweetish and the sounds bubbled as if from every syllable who pronounced her/it it had to inhale away liters of saliva.

«You want that long live.»

In the stickiness of the sounds, Aldo Fornaci had captured the attention of the young Pezzali.

«I don't understand what.»

«Your girl, Charles. You want that long live but you know him/it that can never happen. Not here, not now. But tomorrow.»

«The corpses don't return in life» it repeated as a child that refuses a candy from a stranger explaining that you/he/she has told him him his/her mother.

«But soon we can tell the life which died to return us. Of course, forcing her/it pure not to destroy him/it to us to twenty-five.»

How much cazzo of things knew, his/her master. But not so many as you/he/she would have believed. You/he/she had left him in management a spectacular basement that even Hollywood could be dreamt and there you/he/she had let him/it splash about in a synthetic forewaters with which to fill artificial uteruses, realized who knows where in the world and joints in Milan for the testing. Then, in those futuristic basins, you/they would genetically have found to incubate nice bestioline modificatissime, you still clone probably in another head some planet. Since to each a small segment of the whole walk competed and nobody crushed the feet to the other, in an example of mirabolante human solidarity.

Curious.

For millennia, the logic of the survival of the strongest has forced the living beings to a competition without truce, of which the market is not but the most sophisticated and evolved form.

Only now, the moment of pensionare the Old father approaching himself/herself/itself, the humanity succeeds in becoming consortium.

«Bushels trying to understand what there is still of human in me?»

That eyes had become cold. It didn't shine through anything, faded away the love, refused the need, an appalling indifference reigned. Thing other could graze who is seen to escape with the deception the most elementary of the rights?

And what could you/he/she answer a person so too easily sbugiardata?

You was already outdistanced by the healthy body of his/her man.

«You have not wanted to kiss me: at least now not to look me this way. I have not decided him me to die.»

It abandoned him/it that same evening. Orphan of tears that its fragile body was not able to produce anymore, you/he/she had abandoned the house that had with exuberance believed you/he/she would have become of both, forever. Until death you don't separate them.

It is in the pocket of the jacket, while the noises from the room from bed sang of suitcases in preparation, his rough hand caressed avid a closed envelope. Her substitute had become already.

«You take this.»

Furnaces you/he/she had had to ripple dangerously on the chair to extract from the jacket a candid envelope, sealed, what time it handed to Pezzali with the sweaty hand. That envelope was already registered to him.

«Thing is?»

Seeking a look accomplice, Aldo it winked to the friend baron.

«It sticks he doesn't entrust, your student.»

«You talk to me, out of politeness: I have asked her what in that envelope is. Money, by chance? Does he/she believe me so effortless?»

«It is not with the money that I can contaminate you, I know well it. This envelope is the beginning of a walk. At the end of which will find again your person in love.»

The look of Pezzali looked for a sense in the envelope, through the fibers it hoped to gather the hidden secret.

«That hair, that you have brought away her before the chemotherapy destroyed them to him and that now they attend in a bottle, they won't serve you to nothing without this.»

It waved under his/her nose that piece of paper sudacchiato. The beginning of the walk, had told him. It lengthened the hand and takings the envelope.

Himself knew him/it, that that walk would have given the soul to cross him/it.

He/she knew today still it: it is the depth desire of whoever has to heart the destinies of the man. Of whoever has that so much of enough dignity not to want him to surrender to the monstrosities of the fates.

The envelope is the beginning of the walk.

On the shelf in front of the mirror, hidden from the dark, really close to the keys that you/he/she had allowed to fall with distraction, there was an envelope. It was candid and it was closed.

By hand, with care, a thin line of ink composed the name of Helen Sastri.

# Chapter 17.

Helen had slept the whole night and the following morning. And that afternoon would not have liked to be outside himself/herself/themselves despite the day made clear by the temporal violent of the night.

You pass rapid and nervous they estranged her/it from the exit of the subway of Plaza of the Republic.

You/he/she had not wanted to take the car and you/he/she had crossed underground the city, you/he/she could almost hide, allowing to be transported by that vermones metallic that every day, untiring, it completes his/her duty without asking questions.

You/he/she woke up without opening the eyes, you/he/she had been picked on a side, the narrow knees among the hands, and you/he/she had left that the night eternally continued inside of her. You/he/she had remained for a long time this way, exhausted in the fibers and in the spirit, incapable to think, up to that the call of the bladder had not forced her to go down from the bed. The day was initiated so, against its wish.

The bodies. The bodies that in automatic their needs remember you, fottendosene of the soul, of his noblest aspirations. To eat and to evacuate, to eat and to evacuate, to eat. And to still evacuate. But to evacuate the anger, the disgust, the resignation: that was impossible. To cover all with the indifference, as to sprinkle an assorbiodori of brand. Or opening wide a window for lasciar to run away the rottenness, so that you pour again him in the air of all; and since all breathe him/it, the rottenness becomes of anybody.

A window, here is of thing had need. But not one any: all it took is changing the air. There you/he/she would have thrown his/her own refusals, there you/he/she would have extinguished with his/her words the monstrous life that you/he/she had seen to toss himself/herself/themselves in the cylinder of the magician.

A rotten rottenness even more: that of the betrayal.

You/he/she had promised him/it to him, that perverse and intoxicating demon: anymore you/he/she would have bothered her, forced to look where he/she didn't want. Anymore you/he/she would have approached her to the abyss.

And Helen was not able whether to trust himself/herself/themselves. It was his/her brother his/her twin.

Instead he knew. Certainly that he/she knew, all knew. All except her, as always.

That wince of pride and anger had pushed her to go out. It had to complain the truth, once at least, also at the cost to tear her/it of hand from the custodian that you/he/she had continually escaped him to him.

You/he/she was done you delay for her. The two had passed when Helen was felt ready to go out.

A hour later you/he/she could approach now almost to the door of the den of Angel, once apartment of family. In hand it had his/her keys, as valid as those of he who you/he/she was found again master of the castle. For a long time it used her to liking, storming in the house, also only for the pleasure to send him/it on all the furies.

But today it was different.

For the first time it had it cleans the feeling to enter one other people's domicile. That door was a border, besides which a master was free to accept her/it or to refuse her/it. You same he still felt free to get further of there and you/he/she would have been as if you/he/she was ever passed. But it was not able.

It had an obligation verse herself that you/he/she could not betray. Betrayed by everybody, also from herself no.

It grazed the bell. A metallic growl spread in the apartment and it reached reduced to her ears as a confused memory.

Nobody responded, so much that her same credette not to even have played.

It retried, with greater conviction, but there was no sign that some had felt.

Angel there was not. A possibility that you/he/she had not even considered before going out, as if at least the presence, after so many deceptions, the pits a due action.

It was already about to get further when a sudden noise from inside it brought her/it on his/her footsteps.

A dry hit, heavy, but vaguely reduced. Something was fallen, not away from the door of entry, something that her well you/he/she could know. Probably it was the big vase of glass on the tavolino in stay, that fortunately fell on the carpet and he/she succeeded in not breaking himself/herself/themselves.

It stuck to the door and he/she succeeded in distinguishing some laughters.

Angel snickered, striving to stop himself/herself/themselves. And it was not alone.

Those guilty laughters of innocence, when the discolo little boy, regardless of the sanctions, he allows to crush by the comic side of his/her own boast. It is to serve as counterpoint, that of the girlfriend of the heart, the principessina flattered by the rider that partecipe of its enterprises makes her/it.

It recognized that rice, because once belonged to her.

They hissed to story, now, the two impudent.

If you/he/she had played anchor, that game idiot would still have gone on. It was already waited that a camouflaged vocina would have mocked her, shouting" there is no anybody." And then down other laughters.

It still tightened in hand the keys. In an instant it decided to use her.

And as the ferraglies of the lock they started to mumble their disappointment in the being you violate, here that from inside house the laughters stopped.

It was almost a break-in: the door opened wide him on the stay, offering the sight of the couch to the visitor, of the tavolino, of the vase dragged to the carpet by a pair of female jeans.

On the couch Angel sat with I wear only the pantalonis. It faded, for the surprise, the anger, the obstacle. Besides him, push against the most distant arm, almost pits already ready to vanish himself/herself/themselves, there was that ragazzina.

It looked for of riabbottonarsi the blouse, the sow. It tried to hide himself/herself/themselves with hysterical and guilty gestures. Meanwhile it welcomed her/it in underpantses, it was useless that it huddled the legs, those damned adolescent gambette from the skin of silk.

«You that devil does here us? Should not you be at work?»

Thing other could wait him for the old world gotten lazy by the disciplinatissima Helen, if not to be himself/herself/themselves where others you/they have decided for her? What a satisfaction that dismayed question, that unpublished gratification to appear in the wrong place in the wrong moment!

«Dressed and leave» the order snowed on the esterrefattis lovers.

«What devil you are saying?» it beat him.

«I am not talking to you» he/she hastily answered. It is to the ragazzina he turned, serious and definite as a stepmother. «Laura, this is not the place for you. I beg you to go without replying.»

Laura silent assistette, disorientated, very more naked than it was not.

It looked at his beloved, as to have of it if not defense, at least a guide.

«You don't have anything to ask, neither to understand» it hastened then to instruct her/it Helen. «He cannot help you, it is not able to help anybody. I repeat him/it to you: leave from this house.»

«Angel, me.» it tried to defense, perhaps, the young one.

But what you/he/she had wanted to say it didn't interest in none of his/her/their brothers anymore.

«Ago' as it says» it truncated him so every replica, without even more to look at her/it, as if that desirable body didn't practice any attraction anymore on him.

It is Laura it shelled away, and proceeding almost huddled up on the floor that pantalonis with which his/her lover had effortlessly overwhelmed the vase in a free and serene gesture of passion took back. It inserted them, not more observed, in the indifference of both. And the memory of the low weeping to which he abandoned once out of the door would still have accompanied her for different time, questioning her/it on the true motive for so much pain without never having answered of it.

Laura had gone and it immediately was as if so much had ever been present the anger of Helen it was pressing and tragic.

A new game of the parts starts.

Without script, the mattatore would have had bread for its teeth.

Him. «What cazzo you/he/she is jumped you in mind? You/he/she can be known as you have been able.»

You. «You, as have you been able? Filthy carcass and me that I trusted you!»

Him. «Of thing you are speaking?»

You. «Know very well it! You know him/it about thing I am speaking. The Furnaces, Pezzali. You knew everything! And you have not told me nothing, you have left that they still seized me. Even you have been you that you have pushed again me in their hands. In yours. Oddio. I am going crazy!»

Helen sat him on the couch, close to his/her/their brother. It was there that he/she didn't succeed her more than to hold back the tears.

«Now calmed.» A hand was placed on her shoulder, fragile contact of an only caress. «And it begins to explain better you.»

«Thing you want that I/you/he/she explain? Have put me in trap! You knew that the firm where they were me to assume you/he/she is checked from. from you, accursed, you that The don'ts even know as to call!»

«No, I didn't know him/it.» The epidural one of the possible sentences.

Helen the credettes, justified even the sense of it.

«Certain, you didn't know him/it. And as you can know something? You are not a scientist. I/you/he/she don't have anything to do with it a cazzo with them. You are only a strolling player and you have taken around me for this whole time. Have you pretended, it is not true? You played to make the man of the mysteries.»

«I interpret the signs» Angel stormed in the rambling speech.

For an instant Helen seemed to stagger in front of the incomprehensible boldness of that answer.

«But what cazzo you say. What does he/she want to say" I interpret the signs?" Which signs?»

«Those armatures during our sessions.»

The girl the scene represented him. A flock of foamy and howling perverts, devastated by the drugs, that nude and arrapati were pursued for pairing off himself/herself/themselves wildly. You/he/she had known something of the kind when Emilio Ricciuti had approached her a first time, incapable of sorvolare on that infoiato details.

The desperation he changed then in anger. Anger for the ignorance that had veiled her for all these years, as a hostage segregated to the dark, incapable to have been distinguishing the day for the night.

«Who are really? Who you from the permission to play with the lives of the others?»

Angel stared at her/it without betraying emotions.

«You want indeed it to know?»

Helen recognized the trap in the question. "If you don't want to understand, it means that you are not ready to do him/it" Angel had told her not so much time before. "When you will have the free mind, when you will be ready to trust me, as you have always done, then you will return, and you will ask me to explain." The moment had come, therefore that would have tightened her to that truth from which it had hopelessly tried to run away. It was herself, now, the alone person responsible of his/her capture. "Until then, I have sworn: I won't be me to force to look you in the abyss."

Was its escape ended therefore? Definite and in an instant it deposed the weapons.

«Tell me everything» it docilely said. «Tell me what you want, what creeds is correct that I know. Only I beg you a thing: tell me him as you have always done, with the same love with which you narrated me your histories and you made the heroin of it. And help the strength to find me to sustain that horrible vision that persecutes me, also for your guilt.»

«It is not a fable, Helen» it replied severe. «But if you will have the patience to follow you will feel me an old history as the man, that he is still developing. But whose final it is already writing in our blood.»

# Chapter 18.

Emilio Ricciuti attended out of the cafe beside house Sastri.

It was the first time that tagged after someone. It was also the first time that you/they asked him him as favor and a favor to Charles Pezzali it is never denied.

You/he/she had accepted for two motives. Primo, because Pezzali really seemed shaken, which was not a good sign for anybody. According to, because you/he/she had asked him to follow Helen, that also from behind it was a big beautiful to see.

But now lost the visual contact, and waked up again by the bites of the hunger, you/he/she had started to give him to good right of the coglione.

A genial researcher trentenne forced to play to the spy, in attended that Helen went out of the house of his/her/their brother where you/he/she had seen her enter trafelata. And if you/they had started to trombare? Divine imagination, the splendid busy twins in a tangle of meats, to nearly exchange identical genetic fragments. And him out, while you/he/she would have been giving a kidney to be himself/herself/themselves in mean and sollazzarsi with both there.

Ugly jokes it plays the nervousness, better deceiving the time lighting up a cigarette, faithful friend able to appease the appetites.

And as he/she reads it foresees, to the first mouthful here is to appear the hen in escape.

Entered the blackberry it went out from there the blonde.

Emilio was sure: the ragazzina trafelata was the girlfriend of Angel. Laura, who could forget her/it? Even if a pair of sunglasses hid her the beautiful faccino, that fifteen years of lust, month more month less, you/they had remained him I engraved in the pantalonis.

It stared at her abducted and it surprised him of his/her same acumen in to realize that that glasses didn't serve to conceal beauty but tears.

Which intrigue was it unraveled him dinnanzi? Then you/he/she had not been so unlucky to decide to obey to Pezzali, also knowing that in the organization nobody obeys because nobody commands, but every, to be illuminated and superior he/she autonomously knows the to make himself/herself/themselves reach the palingenesi.

And to be illuminated and superior it was not able whether to decide for the best moving the footsteps behind those of the ragazzina.

Helen was to the sure one, in short. What was it able him of it incogliere in the old house of family badly?

Vice versa, the principessina done outrage to which dangers you/he/she would have gone toward penetrating been terrorized in the stranger forest? Would you/he/she have been her useful to have the protection of a mysterious rider? As you/he/she would surely have been useful to him to know something in more on her, his/her habits, his/her address. And who knows if a day the roads would not again be cross, even without glasses neither tears, even without suits. You/he/she would have owed us to think the destiny. But because not to offer him correct a small help?

For example, to leave to lose Helen and to start following Laura.

The destiny, thankful, you/he/she would have helped soon it.

It already justified then a decision taking, also because to this point of his/her thoughts you/he/she had already been climbed on the same streetcar taken by her.

A streetcar whose name, that day, it was until too effortless to realize.

# Chapter 19.

Angel had lifted from the couch estranging himself/herself/itself from the stay.

Nothing was changed, he/she remembered Helen: in that direction there was his/her cameretta, in which slept still surely and it hid his/her treasures.

It reappeared shortly after: it had I wear a shirt and it brought with itself of the volumes.

It was still standing when with exuberance it approached her an album of photos. An album that Helen knew to never have seen and that surely it didn't contain memoirs of family.

The he sat nearby and with hurry it skimmed through him/it up to find the page that wanted.

The image of a small oblong and flat stone showed her, exposed in a reliquary of glass.

«Thing you see?» the churches Angel, pointing her/it out the correct.

On the fragment he distinguished tenuamente the representation of a to be anthropomorphous with a triangular capoccione and a big pair of horns.

«It seems a man» she stammered, undecided.

«They call him/it they swarm him/it» procedette him. «It originates from an open cave next to Verona, the Cave of Smoke of it. It is to everything today it is the most ancient existing rocky representation to the world: this painting in ochre has trentacinquemila years, it goes up again to the beginning of the superior paleolitico.»

«I don't understand what there is of strange: one they swarm it is the more person in sight of the community, a typical subject in the prehistoric representations» it commented Helen.

«You have looked well at the head?» he/she asked her.

«Certain: also today the sciamanis are usual to disguise himself/herself/themselves using skins and bones of animals. And it is normal that is represented while they are wearing the ritual hangings.»

«That is not a disguise» it sentenced Angel. «But a to be real.»

Helen observed him/it perplexed.

«Real? Are you saying that trentacinquemila years ago the Minotauro existed?»

«In a certain sense yes.» You strove to smile her. «You believe that that sketch has been served as a believer that you/he/she has wanted to represent one they swarm as sign of respect. We believe that instead the author both they swarm him/it same, that has wanted to really reproduce what you/he/she has seen.»

Helen delayed for reflecting us above. Hallucinations: there he/she thought they wanted to conduct her/it the reasonings of his/her/their brother. Which, acknowledged him the confusion of Helen, it continued.

«I believe you has not understood the importance of this painting: bushels looking at the first testimony directed to rise up in the man of the religious sense.»

«Religious sense? And from when you deal yourself with religion?»

Angel immediately didn't answer. It skimmed through the pages of the photographic album, flowing a series of prehistoric paintings, and he/she left that her alone it understood the coherence of it.

Images drawn by the most famous sites of the world, from Europe in Africa: Chauvet, El Castilo, Trois Frères, Holenstein Stadel, Drakensberg. Thousand of kilometers and thousand of years of distance. But anywhere the Sapiens you/he/she had withdrawn men turned into animals or cross animals among them, that it turns to them they became men. Last among all the sphinx of the plain one of Giza appeared.

«Teriantropi» he/she explained to that point. «Beings half men and animal half. Or you cross among different animals as the chimera. Represented in every epoch and in every place of the planet. The gods Egyptians human beings from the heads of animals, the gods Greek they were men able to change himself/herself/themselves. This repertoire of images is as closed inside of him and we it activates when we reach has altered of conscience. Theirs to appear represented on the walls of the caverns is the test of the most important discovery of the history of the humanity: the possibility to reach the trance through the assumption of substances psicotrope.»

«You however you have spoken of religion» Helen remembered him. «It is a deeper concept in comparison to the use of hallucinogenic drugs.»

«In reality it is the same thing: the discovery of his/her own alterations of conscience as a wide open window on another dimension, have done yes that the man translated those images with the primordial pantheon. For millennia, the religion coincided with real experiences that the single one or the collectivity directly lived. The religion as street toward the supernatural one, were a concrete experience of which the believer was active part. Only political and cultural motivations reduced subsequently the religion to a form impositiva and passive for the man. Rather, beginning from then, the practical sciamanica to come into contact with the spirits was banished and stamped as satanismo. Only few experiences of spontaneous trance of saints and mystical, from holy Teresa to Pious father, as ecstasy was translated and listed as signs of the divine benevolence.»

«But would not it be very simpler to speak of birth of the art?» he/she still asked Helen, doubtful.

«You express a concept riduttivo. The art implies a wish of exhibition. In our case, the sketches have been made in almost unattainable environments. To access these finds, it is necessary to channel him in narrow passages and to arrive in the isolated and dark rooms: probably, the same places in which him compievano the rites and where the represented beings manifested him to the participants. You/he/she cannot be art: it is a senseless effort if not finished to the light of a strong religious motivation.»

«Therefore, the men of the paleolitico crawled as thieves through the most uncomfortable burrows to go be affixed to paint those figures where they went to overdo him of poisonous mushrooms. At least they had the decency to do him/it in set apart places.»

Angel frowned.

«Not to be afraid of what I tell you: you don't have to joke as a bambinetta to hide you. It looks now, instead.»

It opened a cartelletta, to whose inside was picked many colored and eccentric presses. They were a triumph of images sharp pains, that they crossed the one on the atres, rutilanti of lights, shades and garish colors. Only attentively observing her could be enjoyed some details and to understand that, to be represented, were of the hallucinations.

«The author of these calls Pablo Amaringo. It is they swarm and painter, so much polish in the way of living his/her own experiences to be been able to represent her. The themes, as you can see, they are the same.»

Helen made to flow the tables.

Men appeared from the head of crocodile, snakes from the head of man, anthropomorphous monkeys.

But what caught more her it was that to the center of the image you/they were represented the people that were participating in the rite. And they were serene. The more ones slept, with a smile that anchors it appeared on the surface on the lips. Others talked between them, without becoming upset himself/herself/themselves without changing. Without trace of guilt. They enjoyed some company of their spirits, that as friends reached to visit you give them gigantic tears that opened in the sky.

«This is the modern man Helen. And that was the man of the caverns. In mean you will find the Egyptian, the Greek, the Roman, the mystical medieval, up to the abducted from the alien ones. And if them interroghi, if you read their memoirs and their experiences, you will always find the same images.»

«But if also pits, that sense has to torture he/she anchors for stimulating visions? They are unreal phenomenons, useless.»

«Continuous not to understand the importance of this of which we are speaking» he/she explained her severe. «This is not an accessory of the experience of the man. This is the same essence of the humanity. They are only there two demonstrations of the man that have been never dejected: the religious sense and the need to take drugs himself/herself/themselves. The governments that have tried to defeat have always failed her. They have risen together and they will die together.»

«Angel, prays you: not to offend my intelligence. They are hallucinations, conditioned of the experience. Every mink is contingent entirely: the men of the caverns painted buffalos as the Peruvian snakes.»

«Then an impassioned of motion should see him to plough the sky in Harley Davidson. How do you explain yourself that today you will never find anybody to tell to have seen an automobile, a violin, a tennis racket, a sandwich with the salamella? The casuistry of the images, however various, it is extremely limited. And it is constant through the millennia: what saw our ancestor of Smoke it is what they saw ago forty years of it the Beatleses before writing I'm the Walrous.»

Helen had flowed with patience those images, whose kaleidoscopic beauty had struck her deeply. Table after table, he came upon in one of which a detail immediately jumped to the eyes.

Smiled conceited, as if it had something to smile her husband that, returning home, it finally found his wife in fault with bleaches him.

«And these, then?»

The index of Helen aimed straight at three artificial outlines, three artificial structures that ploughed a sky blue depth framed by an I apparently exult of forms of life human. To the left that seemed a bell, that to the right a suspended oval chandelier who knows where in the sky, over the borders of the sketch. Under both these images, as in a brood, small bodies and smiling faces were wagged. Helen immediately thought about a nest, a nest of small men, or of beings destined to become such however. And if those of right remembered the masks of the Andean culture, those of left had the whole air of bald children, greyish, with the lengthened faces and great black eyes. A nestful of small alien. But the object in mean, a kind of top left free to rotate in the sky, was unequivocally a flying disk.

«What us ago an Ufo in the imaginary skies of Peru? Do you want to sustain that not even this is not a conditioning of our times?»

«Sure» it beat sardonic Angel. «The inhabitants of the Andean villages are notoriously devouring of Blockbuster of science fiction.»

«If it is, what the visions are worth for every man in every place and in every time, find me an Ufo on your prehistoric walls.»

But they were not so much the words with which his/her brother answered her to upset her/it, how much the absolute serenity with which you/he/she pronounced her.

«Turns the page, little sister.»

From how much time Helen didn't feel him/it call her/it this way. Because to delay then? Which self-injuring folly did it push her/it not to trust himself/herself/themselves him?

The table that held and it put back her/it removed. The photo that followed was not that anymore of a painting. It was a solid image as the rock on which an unknown hand had lined her, thousand of years ago, unconsciously submitting her/it to the eternity.

The explanation in low it simply recited to the right: Pech Merle. The wounded hand.

Perhaps it was the suggestion, perhaps the desire to believe, but the figure that he/she saw didn't leave her doubts entrance.

The lines of the so-called hurt man postponed to the same visas more times, in TV, to the cinema, and hardly first in a picture of one they swarm Peruvian. On I break down him/it, what departed, or it arrived, it was an outline whose artfulness could not reconcile him with the nature of the man of the paleolitico. A cylinder above a disk, with that two moustaches to the base to make the idea of the flight.

Angel had found her the flying disk in the cave. You/he/she had still won.

«I could entertain for a long time you. Do I have to read you the abduction of the prophet Ezechiele? The most finished and exhaustive description of a trip lisergico, with so much of teriantropi and red hot flying disks. And he/she minds well, Helen: I am not saying that the alien ones exist. Nobody comes at night in our beds to abduct us to make experiments on us. The unknown one doesn't come from out of us. It is inside of us and you/he/she is trying to speak to us. And we have the duty to listen to him/it.»

«Thing means inside of us? Do you speak of the soul? Of faculty paranormali? Or is it something that has to whether to do with the old discourse of the brain that we use only to the winds for one hundred of his/her possibilities?»

In so much confusion, Helen didn't find better anything of whether to grab on to the places common of a pseudo-scientific mysticism from magazines scandalistiche and filmacci of second category.

It still labored to gather the deep difference between science and life. Among existence and essence.

Between me and you.

Since what was not able certain to wait him, was that, of there to few, you/he/she would have seen and recognized the face of his/her/their Father.

Or also you had forgotten by chance of me?

«Inside of us, Helen.» It still said Angel. «I speak of the brick fondante our existence, of what it is at the base of our evolution.»

At the base of everything.

To the beginning, God created the sky and the earth, a coppietta placed you in trip of wedding and there left them, beautiful and ignorant as in a reality.

Do I couple me then, do you remember you? But yes, on top of the plant!

«Among all the figures zoomorfe that our brain creates during the hallucinations, it is particularly one of them that he/she introduces him with greater frequency. In every time and in all the places.»

Before the times and of the places, I add me.

And while Helen considered to the forest of outlines in the images of the Peruvian painter, the angel announcer had already turned the pages to reach what he wanted.

In the image of the dream from the bright shades, as if the light of the truth wanted to stand out himself/herself/themselves on the darkness of the sleep, a to whirl of snakes cangiava forms and dimensions. Snakes from the human face observed the sleepers. Other reptiles composed a female figure, as if this of it was them of it the last demonstration.

But above all, two cross snakes between them, as in a chain, they formed an unmistakable outline for a scientist.

Angel you don't even have to point out, not us n'era more need. Also the trembling Helen felt ineluctable the call of house.

«The Dna.»

It was her to pronounce those three letters. And I listened to her with the whole sweetness of a father. The whimpers were stopped, at last. You/he/she had recognized me and called for name.

«Here is the search of the Graal. The wise of all the epoches have answered to a call hidden inside of them. But now we are next only to the understanding of the message. Today we know only at least on where our efforts are goes assembled. We are gathering the spheres of the to know, after the scientific revolution: science and philosophy, mathematics and art. Again all the disciplines are trying together, to trace the street to create the new man.»

«To create. Do you say to create and doesn't a shiver of fear gather you?» it braked the sweet intimidated young girl. «We are not even still able to mend us and you you resolve the problem changing the product to the origin as a defective toy?»

But Angel had only voice to explain. He/she knew that the discola learned, even if he/she didn't want to give to see him/it.

«So much a long time ago, whoever has created the intelligent life it packed her/it and it deposed her/it on the earth. The primate that picked up her/it started to work us above, proceeding gropingly for understanding as the game it worked. It invented the suits, the houses, the burial of the corpses and the medicine. You also convinced to have reached a certain confidence with the gift. Nevertheless he/she never succeeded in understanding its enhanced functions, until not learned to read. Him a world opened him, since that loot of white sheets scribbled of black that was found among the hands to the opening of the package and you/he/she had distractedly set aside not knowing what to do him of it, had of a line taken to have a sense: someone had also put in the package the book of the instructions. And in front of so much hurry, can the evolved primate throw him back and to say" no, thanks, do I prefer to keep on improvising"?»

«And are you now convinced to succeed in reading him/it?»

«To read him/it yes. To understand him/it not yet. It will miss a lot, perhaps too much. But our method of job is correct. The same Francis Crick has admitted to have had the intuition of the form of the Dna during a trip lisergico. Through the alteration of conscience we reach a level of superior knowledge. Interroghiamo our spirits and they drive us to them.»

In other words, as you/he/she had said an illuminated," the Kingdom of the Skies is inside of you."

Kingdom of the Skies. Here, as I am be liked to have called. The Without Name that him autobattezza, one sultry afternoon of some million of years after the Creation.

Since then change, but I remain the same. I speak, without proferir verb. They listen to me all, and nobody turns him to look me. Which best hideaway that the most unchangeable of the messengers? Whoever of you, my children, brings engraved a trace a copy of the native message.

A copy of Me.

Everything is short-lived, in this world, except me, that am Caduceus.

Two woven serpents, windingly cuddle up the one to the other. A vital embrace.

How male and female. How brother and sister.

The silence was lowered in the great stay of house Sastri.

Helen lay exhausted among the braccias of Angel. It didn't even have the strength to cry.

«We don't know how to speak as brothers anymore» it murmured, almost hiding the words on his breast. «We are imprisoned of a greater game of us.»

"Some evil won't come" you/he/she would have liked to tell her caressing her hair with sweetness. But the walls of the cell held back the sentence.

# Chapter 20.

The evening and Angel it came it went to theater.

«Compliments, teacher. Sublime interpretation. I didn't see a Leo Gala so had been suffering for the times of.» And down burdens dark term of comparison, as if before the Leo Gala of the evening had not already been distant years light from this. Because Angel, distant sideralmente from himself, attended only to leave. Reassuring the embrace of the public, lazy and narcissistic, but more reassuring custom still the embrace of the night. And Helen already slept.

The night came, and it passed.

Then the day and Helen it came he/she showed up him for the job.

«How you are? How do you feel yourself? Is it all right today?» Small, dear patient. How much ordinary courtesy you have to bear faking the same of it. It is still Angel he/she slept.

The following days went by in the ordinary one. The times that had united his/her brothers in theirs to lean out to the world, today tyrants separated them. It now touches to the one, it now touches to the other in a merciless law of the alternation. New meetings, new aspirations, new fears pushed them in an opposite hunting but equally dissatisfied.

Angel attended Laura. On his/her computer, the network that united opposite souls in the world kept silent. Dark perennial from the windows that a discouraged ragazzina had closed him in face with spite and Angel, comedy character, for the unsociable Colombina barricaded in the house. You/he/she would have been enough for him to cast a pebble on the taxes but him he was careful not to do him/it: the flower had to be cultured only when the to chop off had not contaminated him/it of it the vitality.

Helen escaped Charles. He/she disdainfully remained castled in his/her office, it abdicated the coffees, it minimized the breaks lunch, it was well far from the elevators. But it started to every noise. You pass in the corridor they all it took is for making to start her/it and his/her look first distracted in the duty it was whetted over it brings her/it to glasses of the office, quivering for that shade that sticks it made him deny.

The abdomen of Helen quivered, an abdomen of mother, to the solo to know that under of her, under all of them, as base of that same building was in action the creation of the new abdomen, an universal uterus, antiseptic, democrat.

It was in action the desacralizzazione of the sexual act, the death of the pleasure of the reproduction and the reproduction as suffering.

And you woman you won't give birth with pain anymore. You won't give birth to point anymore, because another will come greater than you, more perfect than you, more indestructible than you, and of you he/she will know better how to make the places.

And where was it that accursed man that had put her apart of so much secret?

So much wanted that face to hold him/it distant, pretending that the to betray him/it with the job all it took is for cancelling him/it from the existence, so much he/she knew that would have returned soon to complain her/it.

Since Helen was well aware that the not to have seen him/it yet it depended only on her and he it didn't have some worth of it, despite the efforts.

This way, hidden from the respective pride, the two brothers allowed to flow the days. To complete the ordinary one to avoid the extraordinary.

Until of too much ordinary Helen one day bursted and you has to race to the bath of the office. He/she wanted to attend, to avoid, as if in his/her cuor it realized. Any obstacle on the rout to precipice toward the liberation. But relief immediately faded away, once reopened the door that brought back her/it to the corridor.

In front of her there was Charles Pezzali.

«Good morning Helen» he/she talked her to an amazing sweetness as a good father that it welcomes the awakening of his/her child after having watched over her/it the whole night. «It is for tomorrow evening.»

Straight to the point. As every good scientist. Helen been not surprised of the explicit game of Pezzali and it followed him/it on his same ground, also unsheathing an unexpected courage to her.

«Of what he treats?» he/she immediately asked him with a tone that didn't accept reticences.

«I believed that your brother had explained you.»

«You leave alone my brother. It is a dreamer, he/she doesn't even know of what you/he/she is speaking when it tells that the Dna is a nice goblin that speaks to us when we are drugged. But for us this is not enough: I want to exactly know qual it is the theory.»

«There is not any theory yet.» He/she took time the doctor and Helen it didn't appreciate at all.

«We go, you don't insult my intelligence. And not even his: she would never waste time behind inconsistent illusions.»

Charles looked around, simulating useless circumspection: he knew well that there inside you/he/she would have been able to speak wherever, with whoever and of anything, since he knew well that nobody would have drawn near to him without one explicit invitation of his. Its only presence was the best antidote against the curious ones.

«You thing you know about the Dna garbage?» he/she asked point-blank her and she responded without being upset himself/herself/themselves.

«What it represents around the 98% of our genetic code and that it doesn't apparently have any function: it doesn't select the sequences of aminoacidi, therefore Dna not codificante is said.»

«The 98% of the sequences of our genoma don't have any function, yet we keep on dragging him/it to us behind, to reserve I space him in the cells and to spend energy to reply him/it. It is an antieconomic logic that fights with the same principle of the evolution.»

«It is not said» ignited Helen. «According to some scientists, a so great quantity of information not codificanti serves to preserve from the alterations the principal sequences. Considering that it is easy for a sequence to be damaged, the Dna garbage would be a kind of" statistic shield." The error, that in the genoma codificante would have catastrophic results, in that not codificante would become irrelevant.»

«You have centered the heart of the matter Helen. It imagines to have before a text: in the communication theory, if a portion of a message is damaged, therefore made incomprehensible, the so-called principle of the redundance takes over. In practice, the sense of the damaged portion is reconstructed beginning from the context, that succeeds in again making her/it comprehensible. For the Dna not codificante the same thing happens. Whatever casual error would not jeopardize the comprehensibility of it. The Dna garbage can afford to sacrifice himself/herself/themselves for the Dna codificante because, also damaged, it would maintain unchanged his/her own sense.»

Helen didn't hide his/her own confusion.

«Doctor, doesn't understand: of what sense you/he/she is speaking? If the genoma not codificante doesn't have functions of sort, because he/she speaks of it as if it dealt with a language?»

«Because it is very probable that he treats really of a language» it announced catching her/it. «You know the Law of Zipf?»

The certainties of Helen still staggered: in so many years of studies you/he/she had ever felt to speak of he. Pezzali, from gentleman, the embarrassment avoided her to admit him/it.

«It is not a scientist: Gorge Kingsely Zipf is a linguist, and it described his/her law in 1949, in the wise man Human Behaviour and the Principle of Least-Effort. In base to this law by now verified, it seems that every human linguistic code, every literary text, in short, in whatever language is written, present a to regulate frequency in the number of the repeated words. In practice, if in a text there am 100.000 words and that more frequent, for hypothesis, it applies 10.000 times, the other ones are followed in decreasing order composing a parable. Then the tenth most frequent word will appear 1000 times, the hundredth one 100 and so street. It is a scheme of applicable reference to different aspects of the social sciences because it reflects a certain regularity in the human behaviors: the overcrowding of the cities in a nation, for example, or the billing produced by the single clients of a firm. A scheme reproduced not certain exactly mathematics but with a good approximation.»

«It doesn't need therefore that I/you/he/she tell me that also in the Dna it is possible to recognize these principles.»

«Obviously not in everything. The parts codificanti no, they follow entirely a casual principle. But the couples of bases of the Dna not codificantes prepare him following the principle of the Law. In practice, they behave as a language. The researchers of the university in Boston that in 1994 you/they have made this discovery you/they have given a beautiful impulse to our job.»

Helen seemed to reflect for some instant. The idea that there pits a logic in the Dna was not able certain to play her new. But what to announce was him/it an orthodox scientist and rationalist if you/he/she would never be waited for him/it.

«If there is a code, it owes us to be also then an encoder» it challenged then it.

It is always inconvenient to allude to the Old one in a temple of the reason and Helen it owed well to know him/it.

«One thing at a time.» It diverted therefore the slash the good luminary. «The man has too hurry to give faces and names to what he doesn't succeed in understanding, but the science teaches us not to spend words for this of which there is not still anything to say. Before it it is necessary to understand what you/he/she is written there. Later we can look for only the author of it.»

Eccentric itinerarium mentis in deum: the divine code, subscribed in the more depth of the man, had been questioned for first from that ancestors that today we consider few more than records.

«To understand the code you had need to return to the dawns of the humanity? Do you believe to find some answers surrendering you to tribal rites?»

Smiled for laying, Helen, neither his/her intention had to be that of ironizzare. But it chose badly the attitude, to hide his/her fears, and Charles Pezzali frowned him.

«Not to underestimate the course of our job» it replied her severe. «From when we have begun to question us and to listen to us, international scientific community has made giant leaps in the field of the eugenics.»

Bothered by the reproach, Helen quickly replied.

«From when you are proclaimed you international scientific community?»

Pezzali appreciated the forwardness. It returned therefore serene and he/she talked her to gentleness and sincerity.

«In the scientific world by now they are in few in the dark of the project. The best have already been all involved ones and also who doesn't actively participate he/she knows what is happening preserving the secret of it waiting for more evident developments. This is not a competition to whom arrives first: the success of one is the success of the whole humanity. We leave out alone volutamente that scientists that are professed religious. Catholics, Hebrews, Moslems: they still have too influence on their people and they are so much accused not to be able to put them apart of our secret. But soon we can mine the foundations of their power, since of done we are setting rationalistic bases to the paranormale.»

«To me it sometimes seems takes to set basic paranormali to the reason.» The irony this time tickled Pezzali. Helen, by now in degree to listen, it didn't oppose a refusal anymore to the call of his/her same blood: you/he/she was earning himself/herself/itself the right to converse with one peer of his.

«The approach of the science to the miracles has always been wrong. To deny the miracle is self-defeating, because the miracles exist: we can call them recoveries sciamaniche, and they involve only that small percentage of the human beings that is you as predisposed. Has already happened that present sick to our sessions, above all if driven by true sciamani, they inexplicably recovered. Few chosens get the miracles, still few are able to propitiate them, few places on the earth can favor them. Every time that these elements are met, the religion has had the astuteness to appropriate him of it and to condition its sense. The caves of the hill of Espélugues, to Lourdes, they were destination of pilgrimages sciamanici since the Paleolitico Superiore, and Bernadette was a fragile asthmatic quattordicenne and infreddolita when for the first time he/she saw her/it" small lady dressed of white." The context geopolitico of the moment, with the necessities of the Church in France to reaffirm a conservative order, over that the recent promulgation of the dogma of the Immaculate Conception of Maria, made the rest, and the apparitions of Lourdes were tamed and brought back to the demands of the only true faith.»

«I don't know if they were more gullible persons their or you. But by now I have intention to discover him/it» it announced Helen Sastri at the end.

Pezzali didn't speak anymore. It didn't have of it more need.

You/he/she had understood the application of the young one and it was well pleased to satisfy her/it.

From the inside pocket of the jacket it extracted the envelope.

It passed of hand without obstacles as the most natural gesture of the world.

That gesture for a long time refused, accompanied now Helen over the Acheronte. Had you/he/she been afraid once indeed? You asked incredulous, now that leaned the foot on the fund of the abyss.

You/he/she had had the courage to make the first footstep and for this it felt him bold. It sticks he didn't ask where the following ones would have conducted her/it. And for this he felt stupid.

# Chapter 21.

Laura he woke up to midday.

Full light over the windows, warm borne only because less oppressive than the monotonous one to talk of a teacher in disarmament. To the dawn of the fifth hour Laura was some so, a great work interrupted on to be born an empty yard of hopes.

It skimmed through distracted that weekly brochure on the Milan that dances, that he/she eats, that alive in the daytime and at night, hoping later per diem to find a stimulus to throw up to.

Then, that thin buttonhole to reawaken her/it from the sleep in which to strength he had been being chased for different time.

What to do if a press tells you" Theater, last resumption de The Game of the Parts?"

To think continuosly about the whole day, not to feel the campanelles follow the flow toward the liberty without realizing of it. To eat few to house, so much, alone as always, nobody would have been able to dissent. His/her father in travel allowance for job. Where? He/she didn't even remember him/it, it ended type for" onia." His/her mother proudly to the succession of the rampant consort. A brother stayed, called however on the front of the universiattività because, if the examinations were still distant, the politics was in full ferment. The study for him was only a stratagem: it didn't study so much to pass, how much for pattare.

It is Laura it replied in the house, a study of façade, not so much to learn, whether to forget. To forget out a computer, for example.

The skimmed through pages reverted one on the other, drops to know on unknown drops, as drops of twilight dyed of red before, of dark then, the all around her.

"Theater, last resumption de The Game of the Parts."

He/she heard to beat the door away from the dreams.

«Laura!»

It removed the eyes from a book that you/he/she had never looked in the whole afternoon. Ettore gets back home to an incomprehensible schedule. And did it complain now, without howling but without admitting replicas, because the supper was up to him, because the whole day to fight, because the holy cause doesn't admit discounts, and today the result is nearby quantomai, is there the consent, do you understand, Laura? The consent, people applaud and share and the carcasses they go out from the clean sewers as from centrifuge. And her, has not the female of house, found the time to throw an envelope in the microwaves? Does he/she want her in the microwaves, our podestà? Here it is. And you open and you close and you reopen and you close again, and it plays, din, and you reopen. And you close again. End of the supper.

Again in room, again alone.

"Theater, last resumption de The Game of the Parts." Again.

With what effort had spent whole days to simulate, to detach himself/herself/themselves from that embrace to which nothing had still escaped her. Not the intrusion of a morbid sister, not the peremptory order, not even the dismissal, that still played again in the ears as the hiss of the loaded wind of snow. The manager had played the last accords: perfect lilt and her to strisciar street, without not even feeling himself/herself/themselves deigned of hostile looks. It crossed the door, tidied up to the best and them they already spoke of other, they spoke of themselves. As if everybody their years had not been enough.

He had sent away her. Just him that you/he/she had tightened her to itself and naked without modesty, whose palpable excitement was for her an oath, the sacrament of confirmation.

Lowered a curtain, thrown a mask.

You go and pick up her/it. You know where.

Laura felt those caresses on the whole body, it felt since then her and it didn't stop dreaming her. It desired those hands, to kiss her devoted, to kiss her obscene, because the mouth, its mouth, guiltily felt him empty.

You know him/it that the cassonetto of the thrown masks exists. You go, it rummages well, you will find that some impassioned lover. It is still warm, damp to like, of your pleasure.

You/he/she was surprised, Laura, to feel the rotten fabric of his/her panties feel the coolness of the dissatisfaction to rub her groin to each footstep that estranged her/it from the apartment.

But hurried, small dear, since the dump is closing. You will close on the that cassonettos, that it is already tabernacle of the disowned mask. Your hands are empty, they were empty then and so they have remained. Will they still remain him/it?

Laura looked at the time. The ten less a quarter. The show ended at ten and half o'clock.

Street Mezz'ora from the theater, not more. Two minutes to get ready himself/herself/themselves, not more.

But how much to overcome the keeper of the hole?

You quickly closed in bath, untied the pantalonis and it lowered him the panties. He/she let the heat of the urine caress her lips and it rinsed away it with the cold water. He/she anchors a shiver it gathered her/it in to accompany his/her suits to place, rubbing himself/herself/itself along the sides and the buttocks. Few second for a light makeup, then out rapids. It picked up his/her things, it assembled her in the bag.

It crossed so the garrisoned stay.

Ettore was watching the television. It was the time of the politics, also that.

«Oh, but are you out? Where cazzo are you going to this time?»

It was already with the hand on the handle, it almost felt already him to the sure one.

«What history it is this? To go out so, without saying nothing.»

Without saying nothing. Just that the idea: if nothing had told herself, thing would ever have had to tell him? Words scorate and scornate, as true as useless. Dopotutto, Ettore was only a substitute.

It opened the door.

«Laura!» It still felt to his/her shoulders. But she already went down the staircases.

The door was reopened.

«So much I know him/it where you are going.» The voice boomed on the steps, it went down more aloft to rain from two floors. «I know from who bushels going. But you have to tell him him.» Ettore saw only a hand slip along the handrail. Blonds shaken hair seemed to tease him/it. «Tell him him, before I/you/he/she try us to sweep you, that if only I come him/it to know I kill him/it!»

You continued the descent. It escaped him caring.

«Laura!» To work it hid the anger. You were already to the door. «You have become a big sow!»

Struck to the shoulders. When by now it felt him to the sure one.

An alone parolina, cast to height man, as ago a cop incazzato in the truck stop. But it was the first time.

The first time that Laura felt him give some sow. And he/she didn't succeed in understanding what this meant.

Perhaps it was really that the key of everything. A concept so simple yet so incomprehensible. Was it enough to appropriate him of it, correct? To fill the significante of his/her meaning. What for any word to the world had ever been possible, she would not have discovered him/it: you/he/she would have lived him/it. And you/he/she would have been ready for him. You/he/she would not have sent away anymore her.

It tried to see then him sow in other people's looks. Along the road, it crossed volutamente the eyes of the passer-bys.

Curious before, bold then, in the veder as his/her expression more natural, sincere, cleaning up, if thrown in front of a male it transformed him in these in wince. Unexpected seduction, amazing. There is no anything of better becoming convinced himself/herself/themselves to have received attentions from a beautiful stranger. Who knows thing wants, that sow.

In each of that looks it found again that same word. But read and not felt, provoked and not suffered it lost every contempt. It was not a sovereign's outrage disappointed by the slave anymore: the devotion of the subjects now found again you for their queen.

Crazy, petulant little fellow, incapable recidivists to firmly fix the sense of the things. And still crazier those people that go chattering of unchangeable bases in the heart of the men: a race in which a motorist that has just cursed against the pedestrian that you/he/she has forced him/it to slow down passing on the strips, gone down by the car you/he/she curses the motorist that doesn't nail for making the road cross him when and where he wants him.

Laura crossed of run instead, the distant cars still that could not notice even her. Gone down underground, to the stop of the subway, anxious to take back his/her game.

And it climbed for first on the car, shelling under the braccias it stretched out some attached men to the bar, without asking a permission that instead it imposed with the look.

You sat, being well careful to perfectly stick with the side to the thigh of that black. It is in to rub him with carelessness against the dirty fabric of the pant, only imagining the rough and dark skin to contact of his, it strove him to feel the hasten some passions to bedew the member of the waif, last to the borders of the society, subdued even to the stupid game of an annoyed child. This up to when you/he/she had not met another of it, also the same one, in another place, even more dark, more isolated, in a lost angle of the outskirts.

It also came soon his/her stop. And with surprise, it realized to have gone down only her.

The desert bench vexed her/it: you/he/she had lived on the shoulders of the others until then, but it was again down there alone. Alone a sow is not a sow. The sow lives in the eyes of whom looks.

It climbed the staircases, first one step at a time, then twos twos. It went out, and it didn't find anybody.

The ten and venticinque.Il theater was not distant, still a couple of minutes afoot.

It increased the walk, in that desert, whole sidewalks were to his/her disposition.

Invisible eyes scrutinized her/it. Yes, it was so, they were not able all the desires of the city to be enfeebled. You looked around, looking for the mirrors that had consecrated her. And not to see terrorized her/it to them.

You/he/she could not be this anymore of which had been invested: the hull of that term that had him protected along the walk was broken.

I am not a sow, I am not a holy. I am colei that thinks me. It was naked, nothing to protect her/it from the cold. And for myself anybody.

The time of the games was ended: it was had to deliver to him, now. And only he would have ordered her who to be.

It got excited toward the room as a bug that it pursues the survival, and only the sight of the entry of the theater, illuminated by the insignias, it seemed to reassure her/it. It, at least of this convinced him, and shortly after it started to see the people go out.

The people, all the satisfied bourgeois that from far they seemed her small small, it formed as a lake on the before square. It hated the idea to intrude himself/herself/themselves in that marshy promiscuity, but it touched her, if you/he/she had wanted to reach Angel.

Of a line, in the middle of all that static beaus, it was not able whether to jump to her eyes a manikin that stirred rapid, as dragged by a submerged tide.

It immediately recognized him/it: it was the boyfriend arrapato of Angel. It proceeded nervous, splitting the slimy crowd with evident bother. It had hurry, the teacher as devil it called. It had to do with the curls, Ricchioni came her, more for association of perverse ideas that for other. The man exactly knew where to go. Crowd attended the superstar and Laura you/he/she would have attended with it: he climbed over her/it instead.

And while he/she was thinking, you/he/she had not even realized that its feet had started to follow him/it.

The man avoided so the mass, abandoning the light of the entry to slip himself/herself/themselves in the path that coasted along the theater. It is Laura it was behind him.

Away from the noises, away from the lights. Away from the men, it shelled close to the few parked cars, in an alley without windows, without eyes.

He/she saw him/it to approach toward the wall and to throw to itself of it a part. Only observing well, Laura could notice the metallic grayness of a door, over which the man faded away.

Few instants and herself approached to that entry.

The door was not closed again entirely; from the small opening, a glint of cold light marked her the street. It was there, simply approached, to invite her/it. On one side, the devil custodian held back her/it in the dark bugigattolo abandoned by god and various humanity. From the other, the tempting angel called her/it to the light.

The door opened and she crossed him. It was in a corridor of service, illuminated by transparent plasticacce filled with luminescent gas. It crossed him/it, following the noise of the footsteps of his/her messenger, until it found again him in a small room, with an only other exit.

And from that exit, they were two bawls to drive her/it now.

One was trembling, amateurish, sopperiva to his/her own insufficiency with a river of words.

«. good job.» it felt Him say. Arid imagination, also in the compliments. «. satisfied.» it Continued the peana.

The other one was a voice that only the study could forge so much sure. It was a seductive artifice that was calling her/it to itself.

Few missed to lean out on the camerino.

«There will be also Helen, therefore.»

But there he arrested: the voice of Angel had pronounced the name of that woman. Brother alone, sister sóla.

«You/he/she is bound to the secret as all us» it announced Emilio Ricciuti.

Was of thing speaking? What did it tie Angel, his/her sister, that man? Who am" all of us?"

An explanation, perhaps, among those stolen words: what had not gotten with the tears and the questions, you/he/she would have extorted with the silence and the discretion.

«You will finally be satisfied» it distractedly escaped to Angel.

«Also you are him/it» it affirmed the other bold.

«It is a good for all of us that Helen is convinced: his/her contribution.»

«We go, but who want to take around?» Impudent. «He/she leaves that I/you/he/she am Pezzali to praise his/her refined brain. That female is able to multiply the sexual energies of all the followers. It is meat ready to conduct to the ecstasy who draws near her. It will be the vertex of our rite.»

Sex, followers, rite. All the keywords of the contemporary vulgata. But where was you/he/she ended?

«And not to make that indignant little brother face, the defensor fighei: I know very well that it is your sister. You are you that that forgets at times.»

«You are only a pig.»

Laura heard then a strident and hysterical laughter. How much disgust would have tried if had succeeded in seeing him/it in face?

«You should understand» taken back, among the squeaking that delayed to calm down himself/herself/themselves. «You are not you the" alchemist?" It is to you to gather the symbols to unite the past to the present and this to the future. We perhaps are not to the search of the Stone? Here: we have found the Philosophers' Donna, the prostitute and the holy one.»

Who calls me? he/she thought Laura reawakening himself/herself/itself of hit,

«It is difficult to understand the holiness for the one who cooks in the prostitution.»

«You speak well, brother: I would be able to never find the illumination, the Great Work for me could stop to the" white", in all the senses» alluded, with the air accomplice of the comradeship more beceros. «But I can reach the ecstasy. Darkened by the substances, focused on the pleasure, bewitched by the charm of your sister, that I have dared only to graze in every day when I had nearby her. Tomorrow I could go over, with her. Inside of her.» You excited, the hog, and of his/her excitement the color of its voice. «I know him/it that you understand me Angel. You know what he/she means to desire Helen.»

«Now it is enough» it admitted in those words the hidden desire and fought. Too effortless for Laura to recognize him/it.

«Not to worry you.» Brother. Didn't it tell him/it? But it was so, evidently. Or of that word the sense was lost by now? «At the end of our job there will be neither more brother nor sister father neither daughter. Neither enslaved neither free. We will be loose from every tie. You will see, Angel: tomorrow evening will be performed a decisive footstep toward the birth of the new humanity.»

He/she didn't know if it were toward a new humanity but of sure a footstep felt him/it move toward Angel. Ricciuti was moved: now Laura from where it was found you/he/she could perceive the sleeve of a blue shirt.

«This is the envelope for Helen?» it felt the question of Angel.

«This is yours» the other responded, catching again it.

«I believed that you/he/she was performed some initiator to deliver her/it to the initiate.»

Impudently laughed again, the mouse. How disgusting of sounds went out of that room.

«You the initiator? You are not anything, dear my. You for Helen are an interrupted coition. Wanted us Pezzali so that his/her latent desires riaffiorassero. You worried only that don't have to be me to satiate well others his/her appetites.»

Bitterness was the silence that followed. Possible that Angel had ended his/her script?

Emilio stirred anchor, went out of the view of Laura. In that instants without words, the envelope of which you/they spoke had to have passed of hand.

«Big party, will see: tomorrow's king will finally have satisfied, since he will meet his/her queen.»

«Of who bushels speaking?»

«Laws» he/she invited him/it.

What sublime lasciviousness starts an invitation to participate in a secret. So much sweet not to be able whether to be turned to all the presents. Those clear and those fugitives.

Laura stuck out then him, because the open envelope could not be denies her.

It was there that he/she saw him/it. He/she saw to stir his/her lips to give voice to what you/he/she was reading.

«The villa of Aldo Fornaci.»

It found him/it splendid. The makeup of scene still marked its face and those dirts distributed disequamente they exalted the mystery of its nature. It had of forehead a divinity proteiforme, a wise man prince of the ambiguity. If you/he/she had not reacted to the provocations, it owed to have hidden well under the wax every hysteria.

Absorbed on the ticket, it attended. And she craved to have attended.

«You won't know him/it of sure, perhaps anybody of he/she will see him/it to us. Is that pig of Furnaces so fat that doesn't succeed even. And that who is?»

Angel lifted the look. An instant on Emilio, then, following this last, he turned. Toward of her.

For that instant, the time arrested him. It is alone later it understood what this it behaved. Because that beloved face was the mask of the fear. It was certain of it: Angel trembled but you/he/she trembled for her.

It looked on the other side.

Emilio was by now near. He/she saw her, it stared at her/it, and in that grim eyes there was no trace of gratification. Was its guilt serious so much therefore?

One, two footsteps back. It bumped a clothes-stand, and that slipped to earth. The noise the shake.

He/she succeeded in turning himself/herself/themselves and it departed of run toward the exit, really an instant before the hand of Emilio grazed her/it.

And away to perdifiato, in the dark corridors, over the doors, until again in the alley.

And then anchor, a footstep after the other, the young heart to pump, the bellows to purify, until a crumb of strength you/he/she could sustain his/her fear.

When it stopped racing, it was again in the middle of the people, already to the sure one on the subway.

He/she didn't take care of him of other people's looks, you/he/she could not be acknowledged the annoyed curiosity in the late evening with which the elderly transfughis of the theater noticed that congested ragazzina.

That selfish looks didn't return her nothing. They attended only to extinguish the light and to put on the mind in peace among the covers.

Could you/he/she perhaps interest them the loneliness of a young sow?

# Chapter 22.

Tender it is the night. You support you above a finger and without effort you pass aside her apart.

I deluded him they extinguish the light and they leave that the night winds them to protect them. This way they are delivered to their nightmares.

Joys and pains unmolested scorrazzano inside and out of bodies and consciences, riding the tides of the humors. The memoirs they crosses to the precognitions tumbling together toward the abyss as mountain climber incidentati in rope.

The evening had hurt him, the night would not have cured him. To nothing the attempts of riacciuffare would have been worth the past, as whether to reach him/it under the covers, hampered by the frenzy of a sleepless night, it was able somehow to modify him/it.

The nighttime memoirs are animal untrustworthy, they force you to pursue them where you would not like, they again fall you in that country of the wonder that you have found the strength to abandon during the day.

But the night.

Behind the shut eyelids it shines the sun a warm summer sun.

A villa in the country, approves lake the kingdom of the fairies that you/they crowd the days of vacations in family.

That day kept on tormenting him/it. You/he/she would have liked to cancel him/it, with the same heat with which you/he/she would have liked to relive him/it and to bring him/it to conclusion.

The games in garden didn't stop cheering him/it, the endless baths in swimming pool, coolness ever removed. Companion of games, the sweet little sister, didn't stop her/it picking.

In water it was a continuous to jump I set him. It laughed, wet and tanned. The sun shone her I set while it was throwing the braccias to his neck and it made him take in arm. Light as a feather, it amused some support of his braccias, that with the help of the water the imperious master of the offered corpicino felt him. You/he/she was disturbed: it didn't persuade him of how much excitement could produce him the to rub himself/herself/themselves of an immature female trunk, I still deprive some call of the breast.

And out of the water, the run to dry. Himself wound her/it in the cloth and it collided with her with delicacy every permissible part of the body.

His/her parents? Where were his/her parents?

He/she didn't remember him/it more, he/she knew only to be free. She and he, left free to play, to grow, to reveal himself/herself/themselves.

It was her habit, unconsciously repeated, to get away outside himself/herself/themselves the custom, protected, to his to believe, from his/her being only a child. To find again the panties, a white shirt, a short gonnellina. And then again in the house, the villa approves lake. Only with the well closed lake out.

The thick boundaries of once were a rampart from the torrid heat and from the moral conveniences. There, as in a laboratory, playful experiments were consumed, unthinkable without curiosity and trust. Brotherly trust, nothing of badly it would be able incogliere of it.

The afternoon was departed, the sun perhaps already next to the sunset. In the house, alone, null'altro interest that to the same moment, instantly that he/she would be liked eternal. In room, on the bed, sat him, her stretched out. How could you/he/she be comfortable? You/he/she was systematized with the basin on the legs of his/her/their brother, arched on the back, to offer him really his/her flower. From the edge of the skirt the white cotton of the panties was glimpse. The sederino was supported on the cazzo of his/her/their brother. A cazzo whose turgidity had decreed that day the death of the adolescence.

Was thing him/it arrapando? If you/he/she would always have asked him/it without troubling himself/herself/themselves to answer. He/she didn't want to know him/it, not to ruin the memory of a pure lust devastante.

It was his/her sister that provoked him/it, troietta already to nine.

They laughed, they spoke, they alluded. The different bodies of maschietti and femminucce offered you sprout for snooping, ironizzare, to risk explanations that very they had to do with the game and few with the science. For them, the doctor could stay out of the door.

His hand had remained for a long time supported on the abdomen: it was afraid to move her/it, paralysed by the excitement. You helped him/it to get away himself/herself/themselves from the hindrance, lifting even more the gonnellina, when he/she wanted to explain better that down there, she was different. It was an invitation to which could not escape anymore.

The hand supported him to the pube and remained for a long time there, for all the endless moments that separate the to desire something of prohibited to get him/it.

It started to caress her/it with the back, almost with separation. And her nothing, seemed not to realize of it.

Then you/he/she could turn the hand and the fingers they started to idle himself/herself/themselves with the elastic one of the panties. It was not able not to try tickle, the groin picked her. Was thing paralysing her/it, therefore? The innocent indifference or the first shame?

It removed the edge and he/she insinuated him with the fingers under the fabric. It found a small hairless mountain, only uncontaminated skin. Raced then along the crack, first grazing her/it, then making pressure. The lips slightly opened him. And they bathed him.

You/they were not stream but it was sure that what felt under the fingers was something more of the simple sweat.

You/they had stopped by now speaking, he/she didn't even know him from when. New feelings had captured them.

You breathed deeply every time that his finger sank among the tender meats.

Her liked it, it was sure of it. And he/she called him/it, he/she called his/her precocious virility, only with the look.

It lifted her from itself and it abandoned her/it on the bed. It held her opened the legs and it laid down him above.

He was still in custom and bottom the damp fabric the penis it rebelled him to the constraint. It found natural to go to rub him/it against the sex of his/her/their sister.

You panted, that pits to like or few cared less by now: it had to come therefore soon to the.

You detached of that little that all it took is for maneuvering the genital ones. It removed of I clean her panties and if it extracted him/it from the custom.

Then it stared only at her in face, looking for a sign of assent, that had to be natural for as the things you/they were evolved. Instead no.

In that intimidated eyes, he/she clearly read that the game was ended. There was no more curiosities, only the fear of what unimaginable result for her would have had that afternoon of abandonment.

And this excited even more it.

It aimed the glans among the lips and it started to rub him/it with the hand. The enjoyment grew uncontrollable, the bird in flames asked only to explode.

You had a wince.

«Thing you do?» he/she asked.

You/he/she would have understood soon him the puttanella of sister.

You/he/she would have penetrated her. Oh, yes, and squassato the abdomen would have her, and you/he/she would have done her its.

But the orgasm called.

The crack was damp, now it was sure of it. The small one discovered the pleasure that terrifies and he was the craftsman of it. The hand owner height stantuffava vigor: to brief everything the nectar would have given her.

Really then he/she heard the keys in the lock of the door of entry.

You stopped of hit.

The door had opened, of the footsteps in the entry.

You heard then the voice of his/her/their parents.

«Ettore? Laura? Where are you?»

The game was ended, incomplete. Only the time to look at the faccino of Laura, that didn't understand anymore if it had to cry, to laugh, to stay or to run away. The it removed him of hit, putting again all to place to the best.

And the day stormed in the night.

Also here, also now, eight years later.

Really at that time he/she heard the keys in the lock.

The door had opened, of the footsteps in the entry.

But any voice to call him/it.

It was deep night, Laura had reentered after the rebellion.

That distant day, ever forgotten, family duty had brought back him/it to itself. And he was fallen, from good child, to welcome the parents of return.

That night had remained in bed instead. From good brother, you/he/she would have had to get up, to welcome Laura, to scold her/it and to forgive her/it.

But you/he/she could not make to be seen so, weak, crying, gasping, and with the whole held back sborra that afternoon what time it on his/her hand.

# Chapter 23.

«Eclipse.»

The word of order went out of the mouth of Angel and the gorilla it moved him to side of the entry.

The house of Aldo Fornaci was to his/her disposition as of the numerous guests both those to I walk indifferent for the rooms both those shirkers who knows where in that rich labyrinth impudently.

The villas of that nababbis all and Angel resembled by now him you/he/she had turned of it.

But that, for God! That opulence. It was greater than other houses but it was him/it without motive. You/he/she was not cleaned anymore, it was shinier. It didn't seem to become wealthy some guests but to pride himself/herself/themselves some subjects. It was the house more indisponentes that you/he/she had visited. And him as everybody, was enmeshed already of it.

Thousand sounds filled the environment, masculine and female bawls they crossed not for competing himself/herself/themselves the scene, but to hide himself/herself/themselves among the thousand tones of the low one. From a non distant room the soft and sour sound of a piano originated, that with essential harmonies jazz accompanied a female voice sulfurea.

And I know all hilts above I'm dreaming of the hand The love.

It recognized the to go off himself/herself/themselves of an immortal melody and it seemed so much him it makes sure the voice that sang him/it that he/she immediately wanted to turn her back.

And there, lifting as soon as the eyes on the steps, he/she saw Helen climb the steps close to Charles Pezzali. Him, respectful to the form, it encircled her life grazing her/it as soon as, almost same solo miming a chivalrous support.

Helen, had not been called even, really then it had the boldness to turn himself/herself/themselves.

That eyes, read Angel, they wanted to see for the last time the earth from which you/they detached him, as a frightened emigrant embraced to the baluster of the ship.

And his/her brothers were seen.

The looks wove him to grow stronger himself/herself/themselves. The life of the one wanted only to tie himself/herself/themselves to that of the other, but for those two lives separate to the birth could not be the time to rejoin him yet.

You still treat of unknown walk they had to conduct them to the answers, what time, hopelessly, they craved the one from the other.

They had to separate himself/herself/themselves, so that for different streets they returned then to unite himself/herself/themselves.

Simultaneous streets, that the hard law of the to narrate usually forces to happen the one to the other.

But I am me. And I have always tried to make as cazzo it seems me.

And since my such favorite children are to the same stregua, I have decided not to tie none of my witnesses to the tyranny of author. I love so much the liberty to leave you free to choose. The next line of the walk, the ventiquattresimo for the exactness, will be to your disposition: inverted also the order of the factors, the product won't change.

You will return to me to the however I toll of my voice.

Other bawls, will mark now the walk of Angel and Helen.

# Chapter 24.

Angel

«You come with me.»

Not even the time to wonder for what instinct had moved a foot toward Helen, that the arrogant voice of Emilio Ricciuti called him/it back, as if the professorino recognized him one some authorities on him.

«Who you are, to tell me where I have to go?»

It sustained to ugly face the intrusion.

«Only a friend, that tries to put you to the sure one.»

There was an unpublished severity in Ricciuti. It didn't even try to disguise himself/herself/themselves behind a smile, simply it made road.

The walk followed the flight of notes that they estranged Angel. It allowed to distract, as if it looked for a pretext to forget where it was, thing did you. And who was there that evening, in the same house, but never so far.

They reached a room that seemed a small foyer and it monkeyed every frill of it. You/they had also prepared you a counter from cafe, behind which anthropomorphous penguins poured to drink to the public.

The piano had been put to the opposite angle. In the hollow of the tail of the tool, snake to protection of his/her jewel egg, dawned the voice. In candid suit, Ying in the proper Yang, the singer attended the end of the introduction.

It immediately recognized her: it was the florid girl that was made to notice to the preceding assembly. As she opened the mouth, Angel understood of what treasure they were custodians the kilos of too much.

Thin and winding, a suffered vigorous spread in the room.

Not, rien de rien.

Amazing. Any guttural anger, eradicated the chauvinistic erre, call for tourists: caressed by an accompaniment dialogante that capricious marcetta you/he/she could now move. The candid skin, the clear blonde mane, dazzling diversionary, the elegance of layings and dresses didn't dissolve the desperation with which the voice turned on the fire of the hope. A modern song tragically risorgeva from the ruins of France. It was Latin, it was Bohemian, it was black. It was a world of sadness and elegance that it became sound.

«What intentions you have?» Ricciuti, implacable, it recalled to itself the due attention.

«Respect thing?»

«You take me for the culo? That ragazzina, Sastri. Last night, in camerino. You/he/she has seen us and you/he/she has felt of thing we spoke. Now that have been clearer, do I repeat the question: that intentions you have?»

Fottuto maestrino. It distributed sentences in the chaotic room, leaving that says secretandi they lost him in the crowd as a teacher that it tries the indifference of the class murmuring swearwords in the clamor of the discolis.

«What intentions I have me, do you ask? You that intentions you have? We were in two there.»

«It was for you or mistake there?»

«Reasoning of the cazzo» ironizzò. «You want to punish me for enticement of young persons? I remember you that has reached us because you have made to follow.»

«But you are you that you have known her: you have to know whether to pick her/it up.» Diabolic Vocina, in unstable balance between flattery and reproach. «It would be a sin if I had to intervene me, I could turn to empty. And I could be forced too much to hasty remedies.»

To make up for.

Stubs of words picked up by a high school student and cast against the wall of the power. It was to the sure one, the small one, in his/her same fear.

«You are threatening her?» he/she asked the hero however.

«I am not threatening anybody» the doroteo responded. «I am giving only you a suggestion. In this game you/he/she is never made evil anybody. I was you, I would not like to have this record on the conscience.»

But the conscience is a washable good. Omnia munda mundis.

Enough few, light you toll of ropes in harmony, picked by opportune caresses on you feel of ivory. The piano had started over singing, and he/she offered in gift a chaste prelude, known, beloved, suffered. Who had composed him, it said not to fear the death. Will you/he/she have welcomed with the same boldness the sad harvester, from not a lot of trail to find him/it?

And I am not frightened of dying.

A recited whisper was the voice of the singer that abandoned the notes for to go down in the most prosaic recitation.

Any time will I give, The don'ts mind.

It suggested, riding the harmonies to the scrupulous consciences.

The conscience of Angel was that fragile young girl, voted to the mortality by its secret master. A secret able to kill.

Why should The be frightened of dying? There's no reason for it.

Save her/it! It is young, beautiful, voted to the life. Estrange her/it from this choir of corpses! The frailty hammered in its heart, as in that of all the presents. The cult of the death united them, the sublimation of the goddess was their spur. Packed by dust and ash, they raised all how much the nose to the insù.

And the staircase of notes dragged him/it with itself as an indomitable steed a great wagon. The Great Wagon in the sky.

You gout go sometime.

To attach some song, every thought had already faded away.

Angel followed estasiato the to climb some voice toward celestial peaks, for then to sink more to fund of the throat, drawing in the air the profile of a gilded cathedral. Nothing electronics, no effects, a naked piano was the simple base, free to take back and to converse with you sprout him some voice, that of melodic they didn't have volutamente nothing. They were sudden tears, crashes of hope and pain.

And her, the blonde voice, in that melismis it declaimed a text that only she knew. Every contraction of the diaphragm was a fragment of history that he/she craved to be reported.

They looked. The girl had deep and clear blue eyes that complained life.

The intensity of the passage went lowering by now. Of there to few the resumption of the introduction would have conducted away from the volutes of notes of the solo.

Concluded his/her part, the singer estranged from the piano. The pianist transformed the tail in an improvisation and from his/her par you/he/she continued without capturing more attentions.

Angel returned present to himself, remembering himself/herself/itself where you/he/she was, because, and above all with whom. You turned toward Emilio, he/she knew to owe attention he/she anchors him. But it didn't find him/it more close to itself.

It tried to pursue him/it with the look in the room but he/she didn't see him/it from any part. And in the gross if of it fotté highly.

It tried then to recover something to drink, dopotutto you/he/she was supported to a counter from cafe.

«Ditches in I would not leave me to you to try.» It was alone supported and someone already hampered him/it. A woman from the bold and sensual voice. Blonde and fat, dressed of white. «I understand you. The sparkling bench, the elegant waiters, the luxury. But believe me, alcohol and ayahuasca they don't marry well. I remember too well still the last time that I have mixed.»

The singer was nearby him, as predictable.

«Now a scheming company is added» you/he/she also flattered by instinct her. «Essential from a good Martin.»

You laughed obliging.

«We are not here for letting us entangle» the resumptions.

What pleasant game, thought Angel, to become distracted himself/herself/themselves with gallant skirmishes before the true game starts.

«You because you are here?»

«It is the only way to give a sense to the death of my child.»

It was not a joke. The screeching of the death stormed in the misunderstanding and shattered him/it.

The girl was young, evidently. So much could not have passed by the conception to the death. And pain was not able whether to be still fresh.

Embarrassment read him and surprised.

«Forgive me, I didn't want to upset you. Has you/he/she bothered you my purity?»

«At all» it reassured her/it. «Your purity is the only way to give here a sense to my being. Tell me of your child.»

The girl smiled thankful and started to recall.

«It is dead one year ago of cystic fibrosis. It called Mark, it was eight years old. And you/he/she has always lived from disgust.» The girl an instant shook him from the memoirs. «It is horrible, true? What if I have to speak of my child I start later from the illness and solo I reveal his/her name. The disease that has brought away me him has also torn from me my mother being.» You strove to hide the anger before continuing. «You/they have diagnosed the illness through amniocentesis. There were not doubtful: you/he/she would have been born sick. With all the bastards children of puttana that could put me in surrounded and then to disappear, had to find a carrier as me.»

Angel listened without intervening beginner of real tragedies that didn't contemplate applauses to the epilogue.

«I didn't know anymore where to beat the head. The abortion was by now me practically blocked: when you make the amniocentesis you have already overcome the to expire some twelfth week. There was to appeal to the therapeutic abortion, the way out that the law allows you if you declare that a sick child would provoke you a" serious psychic damage." As if a child condemned to the birth were an enough reason. To that point I have put in the hands of the consultoris, where you/they have made me the brainwashing: you/he/she can be made up for, the medicine has made giant footsteps, there are sick that they also reach sixty years. The volunteers are good: they have succeeded in making a monster feel me.»

Anchor looked at him/it, as to tear him a word.

«All those people whom you/they knew did to competition to give me suggestions. Every time that of it riparlo, expects me that who listens to me has to address me.»

«That page doesn't turn yet. You would not be here. Until he/she will be open, whoever will have the right to suggest you as to close her/it. But not me: not to wait you void from me. The sadness that I try for you is a new feeling, that I still have to learn to know.»

«The best suggestions have always come me from who less you wait yourself or from who in conscience I know for some that held unworthy. You/he/she was offered me in fact a last possibility. My producer sometimes had the vice to bring in bed me, thing that I have never been sorry you/he/she. But with my sick child in womb, definite to stop. An evening, to take back the turn, made me intoxicate, but the only thing that got was the truth. I don't know if I had him/it spiazzato or touched but it felt him in duty to help me. I believe pits how much more next to a gesture of friendship you/he/she could offer me. It suggested me two alternatives: or to go to England, where you/he/she can be aborted up to the venticinquesima week, or to address to of his/her friends, brothers he/she called them, that could do what you/they wanted. In other words, it made me know what it exists here.»

Its eyes were veiled of pain, as if the weight of the error had returned to overwhelm her/it.

«I could do him/it» it. «I could avoid to condemn my child to an ordeal. But I have been afraid.»

You/he/she has quoted well the grassona: the Calvary. The place where in a same instant the Old man granted to violate ten commandments on ten. All to howl to his/her people": of thing complained you? Look at my child, as suffers! And if it suffers him, because you would not owe as many also you?" Not to free you from the pain, has condemned also to the peggior torture the blood of his/her blood.

«A night had an attack of cough more violent than the usual one» it continued to tell. «It spent a whole hour to expectorate the mucus in which you/he/she was suffocating. It as a pig, I felt the foul smell of salt of his/her skin in the whole room. When he/she succeeded in calming down himself/herself/themselves, it didn't have more even the strength to cry. But it asked me a question, the only question that I would never have liked to feel from him.»

«He/she asked you if you knew him/it.» It didn't labor to realize Angel. «If you knew before it was born to what sufferings you would have nailed him/it.»

«I don't know what demon had suggested him him. I would ever have thought that the mind of an eight year-old child, already tried by the illness, you/he/she would be shown so shiny. I didn't have the strength to lie. I told him of yes, that knew him/it. Then it bewared me of little fellow, with the two blue occhionis that stuck out among the furrows of his/her bald skull. And he/she asked me him. "Because, mother? Because you have made me be born then?" He/she wanted an answer, it was one right of his. I told then him what I believed pits the truth, what I had learned to strength in the consultoris: that I could not choose for him. "But it is what you have done" it told only me. And turning himself/herself/itself on a side, it fell asleep.»

«And today, which do you think that I/you/he/she am the truth?»

«Truth is that, in its misfortune, I was convinced a best mother I would have proven. I would have tried my love and my courage. I would have attended my missed abortino as only a holy you/he/she would have been able to do. I have gratified my egoism on the skin of another being.»

They were the last memoirs. The look resigned that it investigated the black marble of the counter you/he/she could not hold up new torments.

«It forgave me, I believe» concluded. «At least he/she wanted to grant me the grace. Before going off himself/herself/themselves, its last words were": thanks, mother, to have given birth to born me: the most beautiful thing is to have you known." It was sincere from good child. But I will never forgive me to have forced to love me to it. I was alone, I didn't have his/her parents anymore, neither a companion, and the father of Mark was who knows where. I needed to give me the unconditional love of a wretch, forced to depend on me.»

It ended to speak, and Angel felt a void. He/she wanted to translate him/it in words, and this was how much it went out him.

«I have waited for your history every departed night in these assemblies. Here thing I looked for: only a story that shouted the anger of the correct one. Yours is the true base of the new man the reason for an ethics loosened by the conventions and by the dogmas. If it will never change the human ethic, if what is seen how it won't become well badly, to nothing the vainglorious efforts of these adorned masks will be worth. Not from them the street will come for the salvation, but from who is humbly able of to consider the life to the light of an absolute love.»

You smiled at him, sincere and thankful, as a dying child that declares his/her love to his/her/their mother. And he revealed.

«I have listened to you a lot of times, patient and impotent man: you were Oberon and Shylock, Faust and Cyrano, Arpagone and Figaro. And me, applauding to end performance, every time I thanked you. I would never have thought that one day Angel Sastri would have listened to Gabriella for then to thank her/it.»

«I always listen. I listen to Oberon and Shylock, Faust and Cyrano, Arpagone and Figaro. I am theirs that speaks to me and they tells him. Then I thank them, lending them my voice.»

It was then that it played again the I toll mad of a bell.

The call had come, the assembly had beginning.

«You are indeed the correct man in the correct place» Gabriella gratified him/it. «The spirits someone that lends them the voice attend for a long time.»

Together they united him to the guests and they reached the atrium of entry.

Helen

«Helen.» Pezzali called her back. Distracted impunemente knew her and also realized from who.

But it was him to drive her/it, him that, as a severe father, only calling her/it for name had brought back her to the duty. You he allowed to conduct above for the staircases, then they folded up along a corridor that was penetrated in the villa until they reached after all the last door.

Charles knocked with decision. Then attended.

It opened the door a lustful Sherazade, adorned of veils to the head and in life.

«The doctor was waiting you with anxiety.» Smiled stiff, displaying the naked breast. You removed and it allowed to enter.

Taken from now on form to the eyes of Helen the delirium of a rich crazy person.

A whole wall was composed from screens that they transmitted taken back by the inside of the house: a wall voyeuristica to tall definition that brought the secret of every circle. There, in the middle of the all, supported to the counter of a cafe, Emilio spoke to Angel, that all showed except to interest himself/herself/themselves in his/her words.

To the other walls they lowered rich gilded draperies. The floor of black marble gave prominence to the human figures that wandered for the room turning around an enormous bed that towered to the center.

They were all very beautiful ones, they seemed the figurantis for a film on the thousand and a night: men ambrati, half-naked, strong warlike moreschi, they allowed to pick from stupendous excited slaves, you decorate of gold and of silk. They laughed blessed, imprisoned of a their induced world of pleasures with who knows what deception.

The bed, that was turned toward the screens, to that point it started to rotate revealing the obscene figure of his/her/their master to Helen.

It was an obese revolting, thrown on the bed as if of it were part. Everything naked, had surely had the decency to hold him on the basin the sheet.

It was old, falling, enormous. The head spelacchiata veiled him of shed and sticky locks. The mouth was shining of the drivel that labored to hold back. From his/her sweaty body the stench raised him of whom by now you/he/she has given up washing him.

The motion of disgust of Helen didn't pass unnoticed, if the first words vexed of Aldo Fornaci were a reproach for Pezzali.

«But as, Charles: you have not explained to the girl that I here make that cazzos that it seems me?» You allowed to deform from a filthy smile: it was his/her way of showing appreciation to the new arrival. «Forgive him/it Helen. The men of science know how to be so insensitive. You also come before, he/she leaves that I/you/he/she look yourself. My eyes are not once anymore those of.» You drew near to the bed, persuaded by the courtesy of that man. «Good girl» it told her as it was him more neighbor. «In other times I would have gone off standing and bending I would have kissed you to me the hand. But by now, as you see, I don't succeed more even in moving me. I don't even find a motive to do him/it.»

«I see» he/she answered him with the eye that fell on the nudities of the figurantis. «Here it has all of this that can serve her.»

«To like home. I/you/they are earned him/it to me with years of sacrifices.»

«The promise of immortality also does it departs of that pleasures?»

«That is only unfortunately a duty.» It faked the correct regret.

«At least to her, doctor, nobody has imposed him/it.»

There was an instant of silence, as if Furnaces he/she wanted to feel in the air the weight of those words.

«You know how to maintain a secret?» accomplice whispered her. It almost started to arouse liking that old undone child. «It doesn't rub a cazzo of the human clonazione of it» it murmured, pretending not to want him to make to feel from Pezzali.

Furnaces it gave birth to an incredibly contagious rice. Helen laughed of it and also not only for duty. This way they were friends, that evening, and his/her master it made proud him to tell.

«To the beginning yes. I was a fanatic of the project: us ricconi to finance and to cover the most revolutionary scientific search of every time. Here is the true revenge of the nerdses: in my struggle I united that of all the obese of the world. I/you/they have always been fat to be been disgusting: it was as if my money could ransom my deformity. Nothing more humiliations: in the future any man would have had an abnormal metabolism. And me, master of my geniuses, in another life I would be reborn a marvelous Viking, beloved and desired. But with to spend some years I have understood that any Viking with his/her muscles you/he/she would ever have swept as much as me with my money. And that in a world in which all are happy, your happiness is not worth anything. I/you/they are confined me inside here, to laugh and to cry on the wrecks of the humanity: in front of me there is everything» it said, alluding to the wall of video. «Every window can open me a tear on the world. Every angle of this house is to my disposition with a neatness of image that would not even have peer for eyes transgenici. You cannot even imagine what I have seen. I have also pecked at a colleague to steal. Its firm bewitches the double one of mine but you/he/she has succeeded to zanzarsi two chandeliers in silver. Even of gold. And is this the kind to which we should guarantee the eternal dominion on the planet?»

Unwise Charles picked up to the flight the question.

«It is really to overcome her/it that we are here.»

«You keep silent, Pezzali» it ordered him peremptory. How much hate filtered from the composure of the doctor: the fat person harangued, pedantic and sincere, and he quivered, irritated, impotent. «Which supreme race you think can be born from the work of the man? A defective kind is not able whether to produce supremely another defective of it. But these, everything, they won't be my problems anymore.»

«However it is here still» alluded mocking the neophyte.

«My dear, will be at least two years that I don't organize a session to my house. Tonight you had also to find again you in the house of Barletti. If I have brought here you it is because I hate to change channel. After so much time and so many money, I want really to enjoy me the end of the history.»

«If it is true what it tells me, the end is still everything to write.»

It shelled the little eyes the old one.

«Not to tell me that you don't know him/it» it picked his/her weakness.

Helen fell in the game.

«To know what?»

It is to the game, in the role of the amazed teacher, it still continued Furnaces.

«But as, have not you told him him?» It dragged inside pure Pezzali, reserved and distant from the exhibitions of the head. Then it looked at fatherly Helen. «You are you the end» it told her. «Welcome to house, my queen.»

Helen stranì. The unknown author of this absurd performance a role had reserved even her. Then because to expel her/it from the script?

«Of thing is speaking?» it turned him to Pezzali. But it found him/it uncertain and this most other frightened her/it.

«We are speaking of the motive for which you are here, treasure» it still came in help Furnaces.

«And which would it be?»

Break.

«The ghosts have told him» it grinned.

And before the discouraged queen could say, I dispatch him/it chamberlain you/he/she threw her/it out of the games.

«Now you go, I have told too much also you. Don't make to attend them over. And then I feel like sweeping.»

The alcove was dyed of red, the sultan had expressed the desire and his/her court of concubines he already knew thing to do. You lower the lights, lifted the music, the bodies in sale he was already tightening around the munificent master.

«We go» he/she invited Pezzali under voice.

Helen he allowed to conduct, while to his/her shoulders Aldo Fornaci had already taken in mouth the cazzo of a young Brazilian.

They closed again it brings her/it to their shoulders and Helen it again felt him lost. Ahead to itself, the lights and the shouting of the guests they brought her/it to the duty to which was delivered. And the words of Furnaces, senseless provocations, started to oppress her/it.

You arrested, forcing Charles to look at her/it.

«Thing meant?»

It was impossible for him to still ignore his/her beauty.

«Nothing that concerns yourself.» You still forced to protect her/it. You made indignant him.

«As it would be to say? You/he/she has spoken of me. I am not by chance then here. What does he/she know him about me?»

«Nothing. Nothing of what wanted to make to believe you. For Furnaces by now a game you/he/she has become: it loves to risk and to provoke. But anybody, men that I lead him, can grant him the privilege to speak on behalf of the corporate body with which we come into contact in the sessions.»

Pezzali groped, it labored for the first time to I handed in front of Helen: it was not able to furnish her some answer.

It was then that it played again the I toll mad of a bell.

The call had come, the assembly had beginning.

This way that she could not set any other question anymore.

It made her sign to stir, starting himself/herself/itself toward the staircases. But the granted ones a last thought.

«Only what will happen you tonight can explain you something. And you will be you the alone one to know him/it.»

# Chapter 25.

They were already all lined up ones, careful, silent.

On top of the gallery, Charles Pezzali offered him to the guests placed side by side by that goddess, that was dressed again of noble shine to beam some lights.

Angel was a face among the so many, in that ecstatic crowd. He/she knew that Helen was looking for him/it, you/he/she would have liked to recall his/her look, even if he/she knew you/he/she would not have had to need it. You/he/she had never rubbed her to hide-and-seek, that small bloodhound: she roused only it looking around himself/herself/itself, as if you/he/she had been able to smell in the air. Later you/he/she could take only him a beautiful revenge, when it pitied her/it with an agonizing weeping and attracting her/it to itself as a pious comforter, it went off from now on her to the sudden one, burning her/it in the run toward the den.

How come didn't he/she succeed him/it in finding today? How come would Angel have liked to cry indeed today and to hold her/it hold to itself?

«Brothers» it played again in the air. Pezzali, immense tribuno, raised the braccias to the sky. «Never as this evening we can be proud of tare name. Today, the mouths of every will suck the dreams of everybody. Today, the genial generosity of our guest will gratify our patience, without disappointment for the heroes, without pity for the scanty ones.»

The eyes of all were fixed on Helen. Someone, old old fox of the vice, asked him as that only sample, however seductive, you/he/she could satisfy the greeds of the most pretentious. Others started to understand what you/he/she would have compensated them. Few, the lovers of the villa, knew that for that evening the mercenaries of the sex would have been exclusive benefit of his/her/their master. If sex were due to be, you/they would have come only you for acquiescence and you/they would have enjoyed among of it equal.

«We will be alone and free. This night nobody can arrogate the right of I handed as medium between the sky and the earth. The solvent is ready to illuminate us: that the session has beginning!».

You heard a hiss: an opaque smoke that started to go out of the ducts of ventilation of the house. It rained from the tall one as the reward of a biblical exodus.

How much generosity in Aldo Fornaci! To spice the air in the whole house owed to have made to boil half Amazzonia. They drew all of it to full bellows, thanking who God, who mammona, who both. Because if God were hidden in the essences of the hallucinogenic grasses, mammona you/he/she has had the undisputed worth to drip him/it in so great quantity.

One to one, the guests fell in trance.

Scattered for the house, in the rooms, on the steps, in the baths. If there had been also a motive that had pushed the footsteps of every in a date direction, the hallucinogen had brought away him with itself.

If you/he/she had been the layout of the notes or the words to bring back Angel toward the room of the piano, if it were even never it asked.

Gabriella, had simply followed perhaps it.

Emilio, lazy and annoyed, from that divanettos he was not even never moved.

If he/she saw them arrive I set, a black stambecco and an albino whale. The hand raced to the harpoon, and it extracted him/it from the closet for legitimate defense.

Angel collapsed from the other side of the couch, while blazes of various colors started to cross his/her visual field. A gilded arc flashed to the right from left. Where he arrested, there you/he/she could see Helen draw near.

You/he/she had still sniffed the plastic air on top of the staircases and you/he/she was fallen suffered from low, it almost frightened her/it to be himself/herself/themselves prey of the delirium in quota. Planted to the ground, it fought in vain against the inevitable incedere of the trance. But feeling the senses succumb, it didn't find anything else other than to look for comfort whereas you/he/she had always found him/it. Stirred therefore looking for his/her/their brother, and also ignoring where it was, the case or the spirits, made her take the correct direction.

She had come in also the room of the music, marked tightened by Charles Pezzali, very taken by his/her charge of virginal custodian to carry out him/it in this world as in that other.

This way all were found there, to the service of the spirits. Which would have appeared soon to the spicciolata, to unite himself/herself/themselves to them turns to the convivio without not even thanking.

The brain as a ricettore, here is the secret: chemically tuned in on another frequency, it is able to reach the invisible teachers. And the five brains around the piano were as ropes consonants, nicely you harmonize. Nobody knew him/it, anybody if it waited for him/it. Only the teachers and me, that I/you/they am the god of it.

The lightnings of light made him storm, they left behind of themselves a colored network.

As a torn curtain, came in scene the actor.

Angel started: he saw him/it sprout from behind the stipite of the door. It peered at him/it severe, without worrying too much himself/herself/themselves to hide himself/herself/themselves.

It was of human form, smaller than the shades of all the presents. It was naked, but without sex, the grey skin. How same observing him/it there were not doubtful: its enormous black eyes could not hide.

A hand touched Angel, that trembled of it. It perceived of Gabriella, that had assisted him/it in with maternal hurry I frighten him/it. It looked at her, then the door: the alien one there was not anymore. But Angel knew that you/he/she had not gone.

And Helen knew him/it, that felt grim looks aimed at itself, thrusted in too much beautiful.

Whoever pits around her, real or dreamt, it said a word her I set from every side, it felt the breaths as fidgety animals that studied her/it sniffing her/it of it.

You turned jerky, now here now there, where he/she thought about finding a hostile face. But solo white walls surrounded her/it, cold as the room of a hospital.

A phosphorescent white uniform dressed again Pezzali. Glie had sewn him/it I set the secret teachers, he/she thought of to see him/it to him. It felt happy us winding himself/herself/itself inside as a shroud. It rubbed the fabric finding only skin. Its skin shivered to every contact of so many hands that violated its authority. And it. What did it need protection?

Gabriella protected, watching over on the fears of Angel. It feared it feared, the young adone, and she could not bear him/it. Not in front of her, not to his/her spite.

Madly The hands groped.

Ricciuti masturbated him without removing the eyes of back from Helen. How much its beauty glowed wound in that motley vortex as a trumpet of air that it would have him moments risucchiata. In the changing coils, all of its arrapamento pirouetted.

A blinding shine invaded the room.

Terrorized angel was torn by the couch.

Lifted to strength by the ray, it squirted away from the room as shot by a catapult, and it raised him above the villa, the Brianza, the earth everybody.

That bastard of the grey nanetto, had been him.

You/he/she was passed through the walls, as devil you/they had done if he/she didn't even ask him/it. You/he/she had immediately slow down above the parking lot, almost that the alien ones granted him to give an eye to the car. It was there still. Then street, rapid, swallowed by a giant of metal.

Closed the eyes an instant, it perhaps fell asleep. You reawakened overpowered by the anguish, tied-up on an icy steel stretcher.

You knew naked, even if it didn't have the possibility to see him. You/he/she could accept only to be observed with rigor by about ten outlines in controluce. It distinguished the profiles of it, small heads shaved of abnormal proportions.

After days and days nailed to that bed, it felt a prickle to the penis. Family feeling, very similar to that of a terrestrial hand, of a dribbling mouth. But as you/he/she could be, if everybody around him were immovable in theirs threatening to investigate?

Also Helen judged him/it severe. It was her, dominant sister, sweaty of tears.

Too obsessions, too many monsters. Useless to describe them, painful to remember them. Helen staggered to the furious dance of the spirits and fell in knee.

It picked up the hands to the breast, when he/she saw an absorbed figure in the light.

It was a veiled outline, that rippled peaceful and reassuring. He/she heard the thoughts and the inclusive woman of it, friend, mother. Mother of mercy, whispered her not to have fears. To her Helen addressed his/her own prayers.

It opened the mouth to render you praise her.

But he/she didn't succeed her to speak since flood immediately felt her/it.

Charles Pezzali groaned, upright standing absorbed in his/her dream. From the mouth it bargains over it went out a dark roar, the inverted language caressed a mantra that from the navel it salivates through the throat, and it finished to wave over the shut lips, until on the summit of the head.

Gabriella was absorbed in the sound. It felt the music as if it sang her/it herself. Itself and other from itself as a bond costringente, while the hands caressed the wounded man, caresses ritmate on the pulsation sincopato of gone crazy hearts. Its oppressed heart howled liberty, and the bodice unbuttoned him, and the great breasts could fly free for the room.

Emilio Ricciuti was known naked, and all the monkeys of the forest laughed of it. How did you/they allow him ill-bred little animals? Cazzo you laugh, repugnant? It seized one of them, her before, the more guiltily near. That didn't wag him, he/she almost knew to have to undergo to the correct punishment.

Not lost time to intimidate her/it with the look: it immediately turned her/it making to bend her/it. As this leaned the earth hands, here it is to magnify instantly him turning himself/herself/itself into an elephant. That culos giant knew about good person, as purified by a detergent of brand.

A mountain of grey lust was offered him and he penetrated instantly her.

They were it howls, of surprise and to like.

Angel was sweeping a being that didn't succeed in seeing. It enjoyed, sure, and a lot. But you/he/she could not get away the feeling to be studied: breeding beast, selected phenomenon, whoever pits that shade on its cazzo, was not doing anything else other than to milk him/it.

It is Pezzali, impotent keeper, realized that that jumble of figures in tumult, twists the one to the others, you/they were not doing anything else other than sex. And their noise and their pleasure neighbor was too much him because you/he/she could doubt to do you/he/she departs in turn of it.

It was never so, sex was entirely almost excluded by the psychedelic calls, if not as it compensates for the rich ones, stubborn perverse, ignorant of the search and to the search of ignorant perversions.

Unless they were not the same teachers hidden to want him/it. And if so you/he/she had been, the end of the walk was more neighbor than you/he/she could be hoped.

Bright bulbs appeared to the I toll of deep percussions, more and more intense, more and more frequent. They were waves of seed that flowed to the point of the member going up again along the ducts.

The birds took the flight. Orgasms in unison, brooks of life, shed genetic traces, genocide of seeds.

Angel howled, of pain and to like.

He/she remained blind of it, while an overwhelming trip back conducted him/it to house.

His/her House, for a long time.

Ever seen that place, but he/she knew that you/he/she was returning us after a long exile.

Open boundless space, corridors traced with lights lattiginose that, intermittent, the footsteps drove him.

It walked beside endless cocoons of glass and metal. It avoided of soffermarvisi with the look, so much he/she abhorred what he/she knew you contained. They were in thousands, million perhaps. But his, to attend him/it, was still behind that angle.

The alien one already had him/it in arm.

Angel had the stomach in tumult.

Ecce homo thought the grey one, all one with the mind of Angel.

But which man is it able disattendere since the birth reason, pity, love and all the most narrow ties with the servant?

The teacher drew near, the narrow bundle in arm. Somehow you/he/she was loving him/it.

And that being loved anymore it, more Angel the schifava.

It was a clammy grey nanetto, that footstep after footstep modeled its form.

Now it was a baby, now a young woman.

Now, in front of him, eyes in the eyes there were its beloved Helen.

The fruit handed him.

His/her child.

Angel howled but from his/her throat you/he/she went out only vomit.

All howled, as risuonanti of an only percussion, vibrating bodies and infreddoliti.

Worn out within puddles of inexpressible liquids, five bodies had shared the night of the senses, nothing knowing, nothing saying.

Work prevailed, they fell asleep half nude, dirty and troubled.

# To the awakening, each would have slunk away away, incapable to say the lived one. With itself, the alone awareness to separately have heard the voice of his/her/their Father. And the bitterness not to have understood its motto.

#

#

# 

# Chapter 26.

From last, Angel reopened the eyes. Not that he/she wanted him/it.

The day was advanced, the light that entered from some open windows illuminated the environments.

The night had abandoned again it leaving only him acidity and questions.

There was still someone of the followers, the more thrown for earth, others on chairs, a pair on the divanetto. The personnel was cleaning where you/he/she was able, where the human wreckages were not heaped up. The counter of the cafe, for example, incomprehensibly free.

Night of miracles.

You/they had explained him that the miracles are only an answer to unknown energies, that primarily activate him in data places, in dates circumstances and, above all, only to data individuals: a caste of privileged, brought for nature to live ecstatic experiences. The recoveries sciamaniches are a test of it: psychedelic sessions finalized to the recovery. They happened from millennia.

Trentamila years ago the modern man appeared, that he discovered able abstraction. The sacred images on the walls of the caverns were the first whimper of it, the first cry that our ancestors he/she anchors infants they launched toward their distant children. Abducted from the themselves parents, translated a jumble of incomprehensible experiences with the language to them congenial. At first they called them of the, angels then, elves elsewhere. Today alien.

The abduction of the conscious self toward stadiums of superior conscience as abduction is decoded: today lifted bodies, dragged out of the beds, from the houses and ducts in bright flying cars. And analyzed as guinea-pigs.

It was what Angel you/he/she had lived that night. But, unlike the others abducted, he knew not to be him ever moved from the house in which it was found. For how much accursedly realistic you/he/she had been the experience.

A sudden regurgitation brought him obscene tastes to the mouth. It came I lead the reason. You/he/she had heavily been spiced, you/he/she had slept up to half afternoon. You/he/she had made sex but he/she didn't know with whom. That call still the arrapava. Soft legs and hard cazzo. But not only.

An image on all devastated him/it dominating every effort of his to rationalize.

It had veduto his/her child. From the conception to the birth.

The spirits, that had always excluded him/it, had welcomed not only today it, but also brought at the end of the trip.

But did an end exist for that trip?

Another regurgitation, vomited gastric acids. Fortune that was fasting.

The fit of dizziness seemed to decrease. It was time to depart.

In garden the light overwhelmed him/it. The sun was tall late afternoon. The black Peugeot an oven.

It opened wide the glasses, until the climate it didn't enter to regime.

Turned on the radio for nervousness and it kept on jumping of station in station.

Our brain works as a ricettore. You/they had explained him. The DMT serves to make frequency change him, to tune in him/it on a channel that we would not normally succeed in perceiving.

Useless to relieve himself/herself/themselves on the device: it extinguished the stereo and him it allowed to crush by his/her confusion.

You/he/she was already launched on the Valassina, direction Milan.

The city drew near, a void inside it grew.

It translated him/it as hunger, and in the conviction to appease it crushed her/it on the accelerator.

In less than mezz'ora the car was already in playpen.

It climbed only in the house for necessity: anxiety to throw back what had discovered to live inside of itself it pushed him/it to throw out there himself/herself/themselves in the mad world. But it was not able certain to face him/it so maltreated. It neglected the rooms, the books, the couch: closet and bath were all of this that served.

It was ready in an instant.

Last repaired to the mirror: perfect. Nobody would have noticed after all never that low light to the look, that child of the anger that grew inside of him.

Descents in the street and with a depth sigh sent away the demon.

Milan started to become animated of lights and sounds. It impended on him a dizzy bent building, on whose surface in glass the other giants custodians of the city were reflected.

It aimed toward the center and it found again soon him at the end of street St. Mark. The sun that channeled its rays from street of the bear, beat on the church square and on the red façade of the church slashing her/it some shades of the trees.

Between a historical enoteca and a place of tendency, temptation to stay himself/herself/themselves was already strong. To the divanettis to the open one, a youth enriched of rhyming himself/herself/itself entertained some nothing gracing himself/herself/itself of his/her own perdition. But that evening wanted Brera.

It was the desire to impose himself/herself/themselves a choice, above all. An affirmation of wish that he/she remembered to be still alive.

In which small opening among you husk distant you/he/she was chased that night? The feeling to have been stolen by itself same anchor didn't abandon him/it. You/he/she had never believed that its life belonged him. But you/he/she would ever have thought about being himself/herself/themselves one day confrontation with his/her satraps.

The anger to live pushed him/it so in the middle of the movida. Brera was a zone in decline in comparison to the Fastis of the gold years, but you/he/she had accompanied his/her worldly ascent: Angel owed him thankfulness. And him, small caudillo from republic of the potatoes, thought well about not owing to be compared with the big calibers of the night: it turned him/it the idea to go down in list with the brushwood of the Milanese vip that you/they jousted in the zones more cool.

But it was a beautiful to be satisfied. The building of the academy witnessed capannelli of fighette and he scosciate they already captured every attention. Many colored insignias pointed out the street of the fun and there the youths scurried about, as dragonflies around a lighthouse.

Sudden hesitancy gathered him/it, while to its left he/she saw a dark alley lose himself/herself/themselves among severe walls: street Dark Flowers it practiced its last seduction. But Angel neglected the call of the surrender: to fade away to the others would not have helped him/it to find again himself.

Clear flowers, then Madonnina and return. It threw looks not returned among the tables to the open one. Some coppiettas, friends' tavolate, girls' groups.

It started as to the times of the high school, the towing frenzy prevented him from perceiving been excluded.

It entered a place, you/he/she would not have known how to say its name. The bench tragically overflowed of salty foods. You drink a glass and they will be yours the only rule that counted for the happy hour meneghini.

It ordered a Negroni, load asked him/it.

It tried to cross some look, the females didn't miss. But something didn't work: nobody acknowledged him.

He/she asked another of it. Tracannò, regardless of the brittleness of his/her physicist and a psyche already squirted out orbit.

To launch obsessive looks didn't seem to get the usual results, then it got up, staggering near the stool, and it aimed straight to a tavolino with two superb fillies.

The world that turned frantic around him gave him the regurgitation and sour reflussi they reached him the mouth, a mix of gastric juices and nightmares decomposed that it hastened to ringhiottire. The infamous breath nauseated the two table companion, that not even him premurarono to understand what the intruder was them saying: all it took is reading the disgust on their faces because the outcast him discostasse.

It returned to the bench, it grabbed on you and it ordered a third Negroni.

Almost to the fund of that glass, it realized to be forgotten him to eat. It had been being fasting before for the evening, therefore there was no pity: it was drunk lost.

Nevertheless, he/she didn't succeed in getting away himself/herself/themselves the figa from the head. Also because, he/she knew, if you/he/she had stopped thinking of us, the alien kidnappers would again have overpowered him/it.

It tried a new approach. It didn't even understand him thing you/he/she was saying or doing or with whom; it perceived only the taking of the buttafuori that if it dragged him/it out of the place and it cast him/it to earth.

What hostile public surrounded him/it! All the eyes were him I set, while it was rolling him on the stage to the feet of the stage: they didn't succeed in being detached himself/herself/themselves from his to wheeze, despite they had disgust of it.

He/she vomited acids in the street, before succeeding in getting up.

As a roulette, the head turned thin to halt himself/herself/themselves on the definitive choice: that to return him of it to house.

Thing other stayed him? Abandoned wreckage to the tides, rinses of barrel emptied to earth destined by the drainages to take the street of the sewers.

For the street, it kept on devouring with the eyes every girl it passed nearby him, only aware activity granted him the alcohol. And that to slobber constant dictated the figure of his/her defeat.

It accelerated the footstep to every refused look, so he found again under house without almost having realized.

Apart the work to center the lock, the following gestures were followed with disheartening custom: turned on the light, closed again the door, you void the pockets, removed the shoes, inserted the latrine, turned on the computer.

Now the computer was the mirror of its greeds. Power on for inactivity, the humming of the processor relighted in him the perverse desires which you/he/she had had to abdicate.

A window on the sin, to that time at night the blue lights of the monitor in lighting were the last call to the vigil of the senses.

The operating system was by now ready, it opened only for scruple the mail and the social network. After having basketed a myriad of useless messages, it realized that Laura was on line.

Hi he/she wrote her without thinking of us. You/he/she was reduced he/she waits for under the conditions not to think anymore.

You responded.

And he gave her rope.

You threw in that conversation as if it were the point of arrival of the whole day. Or of the whole life. It is protected in his/her den, it was rediscovered bright, persuasive, cynic. The head turned and with it mirabolanti deceptive words, all those that you/they had remained in his stomach that evening.

Laura tried timid defenses but the seducer it overwhelmed her impietoso.

It alternated flatteries and reproaches, with mastery. It now favored the vanity of it, it now frustrated the pride of it. Above all it turned on the desire of it.

He/she wrote her some tried pleasures the preceding night, lying.

You immediately didn't respond, they always passed that second in which he imagined her/it stunned by the imagination, with the breath cut in throat, the language that raced to dampen the lips, incapable to give words to his/her own feelings.

Without surprise, it found again him excited. The pantalonis were already untied, and the hand was already run to the object.

Are you touching yourself? he/she wrote her to involve her/it in the same game. He/she thought about scandalizing her/it.

Yes it confirmed him instead the small one.

You/he/she could not stop anymore, that bluffs you/he/she had to be discovered, in all of his/her beauty. It opened with Laura a videochiamata. You accepted and a greed of triumph made him jump the heart in breast.

You/he/she would have entered the screen, if you/he/she had been able. But he/she thought well instead of withdrawing himself/herself/themselves on the chair, supporting himself/herself/itself to the back: with the power on monitor as only source of light, the faint light would have him/it favorite, hiding the signs of the defeat on its face.

The time of connection seemed him eternal: the emotion salivates with attends him. Then from the window a blonde ragazzina appeared, dressed with a pink shirt, that strove him to smile. The desk is sat to, in front of the screen, the shot showed the bust and the face of it. What it happened under to the table you/he/she was left to the imagination.

«You were waiting me?» he/she asked her.

«I have started alone.»

«You continue then.»

There was no heat in his/her voice. The voice of his/her/their master, that suffocates the dependence faking separation. It neglected how much work cost him that evening to pretend: failure as man, could not afford also a failure as actor.

Laura had taken to caress him the breast but it did him/it with irritating artfulness. Under the light fabric, only a maniacal mind could imagine the to contract himself/herself/themselves some nipples.

«No, no!» it howled angry, without going out of the shade. «What you do?»

«I do what you have asked me.»

Stiffened on the throne, Angel spoke severe.

«Not this way! Before it opened the curtain, you were giving to like you. Your hand was favoring your will, it rubbed you among the thighs, it was satisfied of your heat. You wanted to discover you rotten, to draw even more to like to feel you porca. Now, your will doesn't count anything.»

Laura listened petrified. With the shelled eyes, it was as if it fixed surprised his/her own lust.

«Thing is that posture? Not arraperesti not even a truck driver in abstinence! Right-hand on the shoulders, arches your body, offer yourself, not to me, but to yourself!»

Laura obeyed. The falling shoulders took a stand. The hand gave as to stretch himself/herself/themselves the shirt and the passage on the nipple it did her/it shiver. Angel perceived and rejoyced of it.

«You now proceed. I am only here for admiring you.»

The right hand of Laura got excited under the shot, while the left was slipping himself/herself/itself under the shirt. The skin the skin and the pleasure that it derived touched now you/he/she could not hide of it anymore.

«Get away the shirt.»

Also the hand of Angel had taken to give him to do. It massaged the member from inside the briefs, foretasting the moment in which you/he/she would have thrown out him.

Laura was not obeying: you/he/she was favoring. It was as if you/he/she had started to attend to the desires of the male in the certainty to increase so the pleasure of both.

You massaged anchor before getting out of himself/herself/themselves the shirt. But when it did him/it, he/she filled with grace the servant.

To naked breast, you/he/she could not do anything else other than to complete the work without need of applications.

It removed back the chair, so much to be entered in full the shot. Adorable panties of white cotton were the last obstacle to its nature.

It allowed to calm down himself/herself/themselves the impetuousness of the masturbation and when it was calm, without losing eye the television camera, it got up. That fixed look in the objective was a picked and defeated challenge.

You removed from the panties and him he/she still sat to narrow legs.

«Good, Laura, good» it slobbered the man. «You want to see the effect of your power?»

Stretched out in before the basin, lowering himself/herself/itself of release the pantalonis.

It had a beautiful cazzo and he/she knew him/it. On the women it knew the effect: it was sure that also the ragazzina would not have disappointed him/it.

The two pigs sexes were massacring himself/herself/itself, at the same time, twisting himself/herself/itself and panting in unison, as if their bodies had been indeed to contact.

And they looked him, there where they were able. They didn't lose him sight a second, fearing the moment of the orgasm to miss, more and more nearby.

In a last growing of it howls, the small godette.

An instant later, a warm throw of sborra upset him on the shirt of Angel.

With an unworthy bark you/he/she was freed some seed.

He/she saw her in the shot: you/he/she was looking at him/it. Her eyes were fixed on the window video. And they were not the eyes of all the puttanes that you/he/she was beaten after having made to enjoy her. They were eyes that you/they saw with dismay the fruit of the guilt: the sperm on the suit, a bleakness onanistico that never in his/her life you/he/she had tried. And as unworthy show gave him/it proper to Laura.

You/he/she had not been ashamed of his/her nudity, of his/her excitement, of the masturbation and of the ejaculation. It now had of it, because it felt him spied.

Coma the preceding night, with the alien voyeurs that studied him/it.

Definite of a line, it threw him on the mouse with the dirtied hand. Regardless of everything, of the unexpressed questions that it recognized on the face of the girl, it removed the connection video.

It was only again: you/he/she had escaped to the spy that him same you/he/she had evoked.

Rhythmically the breath appeased him, a comforting habit returning.

You relaxed and for the first time in that day it felt him really tired. It was him/it, destroyed since the preceding night, but you/he/she had not wanted to realize of it yet.

The drugs psicotrope, the hallucinatory experience, the lack of sleep, the fast, the drunk one and now the orgasm.

Closed the eyes for an instant, a solo.

It was enough for making to collapse him/it dormant.

# Chapter 27.

The eyes of Laura fixed an empty screen.

You/he/she had seen I squirt him/it to dirty him the shirt and the massive cazzo to repeatedly contract himself/herself/themselves, almost to want to throw back every drop. And while it was being bound to that filthy show, the connection you/he/she was extinguished of hit.

You/he/she had tried to write him a pair of calls but him you/he/she had not granted answer anymore: the window remained a shrine of incomplete desires.

You/he/she had closed out her, again.

You/he/she was given to not at all like and the legacies of that humiliating enjoyment faded away in the indifference.

You/he/she would have preferred to have disgust of it, as it was correct that pits. Naked and abandoned, huddled up on the chair on which nient'altro usually did whether to study. The lights of the cameretta it turned on as reflectors to exalt every sigh and every hair to advantage of the impudent eyes of a webcam.

You/he/she is now abandoned.

You/he/she would have had to think: I have satisfied him. It doesn't have interest anymore. It was found to think instead: you/he/she is satisfied. It doesn't have interest anymore.

You satisfied it was not him/it of certain. More it spent the time, more it realized. And what more it frustrated her/it, it was that it was not able it stuffed nothing.

It got up from the chair, as it was, naked and perfect. Her liked and he liked. Its sexuality lived with the maximum naturalness, without inhibiting her/it with unfair guilts, neither to denaturalize her/it with vulgarity from zoccola. What didn't succeed instead in understanding they were his/her feelings.

How much of the attraction for Angel, that had conducted her to that game, did he/she answer to his desperate application of love?

It went out of the room and it extinguished the light. He/she was power on only the lamp on the desk, that would have driven again her in the dark. Afoot naked it crossed the house without making noise. But if you/he/she had also done of it, well few would be changed: that night was alone. Angel had not even asked him him, if you/he/she risked something to play with him to the sow. It was as if it took him/it for granted, that was to disposition of his/her desires, that nothing to the world existed out of their virtual coition.

Ettore was out of town for a congress of party. His/her parents were in travel allowance, as usual.

And her, landlady, didn't succeed in being owner of his/her own pleasure.

How many friends would have invited the fiancé to joust in liberty between the couch and the bed. But her no: she had to reach the empireo. Not any boy but the superstar of the moment. You/he/she had aimed him since small and that desire, then unaware, you/he/she was turned into obsession.

It entered bath and it looked him in the mirror.

Its face was marked from I strive him/it the eyes reddened for not having lost sight the screen from times. A night of autoerotismo leaves indelible signs in the physicist and in the soul.

It allowed to flow the warm water and he/she sat him on the edge of the tub. It was not busy other whether to wait that he/she was filled.

You observed the legs and the pube, it felt him the sticky lips and the sticky skin and it looked for on the thighs if there pits to be removed some trailing of pleasure.

Up to few months before, absorbed in the warm water, you/he/she would have studied the changes of his/her body and the physical reactions to his/her own touches.

By now, nothing more than this interested her: of herself, also keeping on ignoring the mystery, he/she didn't want to know nothing anymore. But of the others, the thought tormented her/it.

And among so many others, one who was so many.

Angel, the man able to satisfy thousand and thousand women, since in degree to give to every one different man.

Laura would not have been satisfied with the angel for her: them he/she wanted everybody. The blonde angel deserved the black angel, that would have been her lover, friend, father and brother: incestuous beloved that the small one persisted him to call love.

He/she was for a long time immovable, without anymore the strength of I handed questions, as frightened by the weight of the answers. Clouds of foam stazionavano on the surface and there they remained as curtain. If on one side it felt shame for his/her naked body in water, from the other one it shivered in to reveal himself/herself/themselves incapable to cry.

When he shook, lust had slipped on the fund.

It went out of the water as a trembling nymph of a picture of Chabas.

It hastened to entwine himself/herself/themselves in the towel, and it tightened for a long time him the shoulders, with always greater strength, almost to get away himself/herself/themselves the breath. As it stopped, all restarted as before. The loneliness, the dark, the nudity.

It went to cameretta and it abandoned the towel on the bed. It found the laundry and it covered him the intimacies and the bust. You sat on the bed to read, some that would have helped her to confuse the thoughts. Spent a lot of time and a lot of pages, before realizing that its lucidity didn't come less however: so much was worth to accept him sow and defeat, for that night, and to try to sleep without taking comfort himself/herself/themselves in the dreams. It deposed the book, all it took is now lengthening a hand and to extinguish the light.

But also to get up, and to extinguish the PC. Had you/he/she left him power on, did he/she know him/it or no? Yes, but also no.

If yes, because and otherwise, because, it was until too effortless to understand him/it. For this, it avoided to answer him.

Arrancò to the desk, moved the mouse to disarm the screen saver.

Bastard.

The dialogue box camped in the middle of the screen. Violated once more, with an incontestable so irritating forwardness as.

Are you still there?

He/she simply asks idiot. And simply he/she answered, in the only possible way.

Yes.

Complied to so much banality, as if from the fund of the night he was not able anything else other than to go up again to the light.

I want to conduct you out of the darkness.

Accursed, you/he/she had not even read in the thought. It didn't deserve accondiscendenza.

Do you feel yourself in guilt for dragged avermici?

But Laura hoped in vain to punish him/it: you/he/she would never have been his/her peer, until him you/he/she had not wanted him.

The time of the veneration is ended: it is time to walk beside side. I want your support giving you mine. Do you see? I hand the hand to the painted cloth, and from it the nymph springs it treats again. He/she takes that life that up to I have now denied it possessed. Alive with me, sweet angel, and let's satisfy together us some breath of the air.

You/he/she had read of better. Perhaps in the comic strips, perhaps in the Kisses Perugina. But there was a fund of perverse logic in those sentences, that amended the formal molasses of it.

Do you believe to be able to seduce me writing as any Rapagnetta?

It tried to draw away himself/herself/themselves.

Any seduction I could forgive anymore me: I want only to disclose you the soul. You have wanted me Pigmalione, now I desire you Galatea. And this will happen, because both we turn that the other is really what it is. We are children of a superior order, brothers in the desire.

However terrible, perhaps still vaguely etilici, these new compliments seemed to shake her/it. In effects, Angel object of appreciations had never done her, sincere or interested that were. These, disclosed then an arcane game, whose rules dragged her/it over itself same. In that instant, he felt Eva.

What do you want from me?

I want to love you Laura. With sweetness and devotion.

Simply he/she wrote, leaving her/it in nanny of late words.

Confuse me.

And the screen pursued.

For this you want me. It is your nature.

Or nature! Or Nature! Also thinking him/it, he was careful not to wonder himself/herself/themselves the motives for so much deception. Even who had set already the poetic question you/he/she had ever succeeded in giving him an answer.

This way, Laura adjusted him, and he surrendered again. You/he/she was already surrendered, in the moment in which you/he/she had still grazed the keys of the computer.

What do you want that face?

It was clear that it pretended something. Of sure, it pretended the question that the small one had just granted him.

Let's see now us.

What is it, a joke? You/he/she had ended to see her/it no more than two hours ago, crooked as a mine, scattering I am set as much of that passion by to dry up you desire him for at least one day. Thing other could want from her?

It is late. Mine would not let never me go.

Yours are not there. And not even your brother. You go out of that house in twenty minutes and you come to the park Sempione. I wait you in front of the Triennial.

He was true you/he/she could not know him/it but you/he/she had understood him/it: Laura was alone. For the first time it realized than it loved the fascism of Ettore and how much you/they could miss two intrusive parents and bigots.

That history had to close him: the game needed the epilogue.

No. I won't come, Angel.

Digitato slowly had him/it, it almost feared to have to return on its writing to correct a wrong character, and to jeopardize the definitive sense of the sentence. It had only to press dispatch.

But it didn't do him/it.

It cancelled all and riscrisse.

Because I should do him/it?

Because you cannot do without it. It is already everything writing inside of you.

That history had to close him, he repeated. Absolutely, immediately, that same night.

It had only to go out, to reach him/it and to fall to pieces once and for all himself/herself/themselves of him.

There was no other choice.

Nobody has another choice. Nobody chooses. It had to know well it who he/she wrote her from a distant computer.

Wait me.

# Chapter 28.

Ugly thing to wake up him in blow. Angel was really badly still.

Drug, alcohol, sex. But not the sex liberatorio and dominant: that from failures, that he/she forces the pupils to burn against a power on screen in the heart of a dark cameretta.

That that had wakened up him/it had been the light of the morning. Morning soon, for his/her habits. But to the fragile sleep induced by the self-destruction few all it took is jumping. Above all if the pallet were the uncomfortable chair the desk.

If he/she remembered well still her the great lines of the run of depravation. It had some difficulties on the details, above all those of the deepest night.

He/she didn't for example remember, when you/he/she had extinguished the pc.

And the cotton cover. Turned up I set him, as if you/he/she was given to give him the good night the good fatina of the cazzo. The head bursted him, if it felt her/it scattered for the whole room as that of a sodato ball of lard in a latrine of barracks.

It felt the fragments liquefy himself/herself/themselves and to flow along the walls, seemed almost an open faucet.

You strove to feel better: it was really an open faucet.

There was water that flowed, it came from the kitchen.

If the era forgotten?

It had to get up to provide. If it were tracimato? Chissenefrega, will think it. I will call then the army.

Water flowed. It is dish they tinkled. How beautiful, mother is working for us. What did you/they bluster to make dishes and glasses? The last shred of lucidity was not able anything else other than to suggest him the only answer logic: there was someone in the house.

You/he/she would have had to get scared himself/herself/themselves. Instead he made indignant. Rather, him proper incazzò.

If you/he/she had seen who waited for to find, you/he/she would have had to throw out her of house staggering. More complicated operation, therefore, but above all more humiliating.

It tried to get up, and being everything been standing definite to face the intruder: it leaned out on the kitchen and it sues to wash the whole dish it found Helen.

Anything else other than daylight, anything else other than light sleep: the washing of the dishes by hand, to a civil report schedule. Flat, besides, whose accumulation plurigiornaliero would not even have had to concern her/it. Whoever thought that only his wives could arrive to so much it is a fottuto unique child.

It tried to straighten himself/herself/themselves and to become himself/herself/themselves threatening.

«Thing you do here?»

It didn't have winces not a fear. It didn't even turn him his/her sister.

«I am washing you the dishes.»

The time was absurd the idiotic answer. Didn't Angel deserve other indeed?

«This I see him/it. But because you are here?»

Helen, and it supported the dish in the sink.

«Also taming him/it to me me. For the dirty show that you have made me find, then...»

«It was enough I remained to your house» it minimized superb.

Then Helen turned him. It had been being for the night before the face didn't see her: then you/he/she was wound of unreal luminescences, perhaps it was unreal also it. But identical to that it was also this, marked by fond reproach, that brusquely brought him/it to the awakening.

«I would be liked to remain to my house.» It underlined the concept, so that it was the sense well clear of it. «You are you that you have forced me to go out of it.»

Known history, by now, the stimulus to that sense of guilt far. But from the night you/he/she could not work anymore before. The budget of the responsibilities was changed by now.

«Now you overestimate me. You are gone out, you have done him/it so that not to make to take some worth of it. To escape from my frying pan, is ended in the fire.»

The image of the frying pan perhaps remembered to be still in his/her house and definite to draw near to the table and to take a seat.

«I have to prepare you the breakfast?» it interpreted so Helen.

He had been being almost without food for two days, you/he/she would perhaps have had to consent. But its stomach refused only also to feel speak of it.

«Make only me a coffee» the granted ones.

In the silence that followed, Angel observed the movements of Helen. Nothing could make her/it graceless: neither anger, neither disappointment, neither ignorance, neither fear.

Helen ignored the fear, he/she thought. It ignored the fear fottuta that Angel that morning it had for her first time. And it had more than a motive of it.

It was afraid of a moral judgment, on which was felt always superior. It was afraid of the dependence, from which it feared you/he/she would not have escaped anymore.

Above all it was afraid of what, she had been the night before. It trembled to the idea that Helen had included only in an event what he had never understood in about ten sessions. It hated those images that had withdrawn her as the transfiguration of an alien jailer. And it had disgust not to know how to remember what, you/he/she could really be happened.

«From how much you are here?»

He/she asked her to break the anguish of his/her thoughts.

«It will be a mezz'oretta» he/she sketched.

«And have you let me sleep so?»

Coffee was on the fire. Helen turned him of release.

«Oh, excuse me. I forgot that the pupo must be put in bed» it mocked him/it annoyed. «I have not wakened up you because I had alone disgust to touch you.»

Angel was anesthetized by now to the humiliations.

«However the cover you have put him to me I set.»

«Because I also had disgust to see you. Do I enter house and thing I find? The great actor Angolo Sastri covered with sborra: a child that instead of sbrodolarsi with what cola from above the it does with what it squirts from under. Had you hardly ended an orgy: you owed really to race to the computer to masturbate?»

Already, the computer. Other undue interference.

«You have extinguished you the computer?»

«Because? Do you remember to have done him/it?»

«I don't remember a big that.»

«Badly that memory me for both.»

Coffee had been climbed, Helen was turned for extinguishing him/it. Angel took advantage to give a glance and him for him of it you/he/she didn't like.

To the mirror you/he/she would have arrived later there. But the casting of white medals on the shirt justified every reprimand of his/her/their sister. You/he/she had been inactive for times and the air of the night you/he/she had transformed his/her glorious sperm in dried crusts. It followed the relics of the throw with the look from the abdomen to the breast. Then it continued anchor, that flood inarginata: it felt him sticky until under the throat, the hair of the unmade beard held back other disgust.

«Make to go me to change» it announced.

«Hurried. I hold you in warm the coffee.»

It got up dragging the chair, heavy footsteps brought him/it in room without great conviction.

Left half open windows, read unmade, dressed wherever. To the feet of the chair the cotton cover lay, that with which the thoughtful little sister had fondly covered him and that he was gotten rid of from the awakening, throwing her/it for earth.

The den.

You/he/she was not changed since then never. But then when? How long was you/he/she passed from when he/she remembered him to have taken possession of that clipping of territory? The whole time of his/her life.

From zero to thirty in an alone shelter, you/he/she was never gone out of it, as a pup abandoned by a migration, barricaded waiting for the return of the flock.

Angel Sastri in alive reality for a long time raggomitolato in his/her bunk. They are only fetishes those that desultorily go out of house to delude himself/herself/themselves some ephemeral embrace of the worldly glory.

His/her den, to every way, it was a country house.

You removed the shirt and it threw her/it on the bed. You bent, and it picked up regardful also the cover. He/she thought rightful to refold her/it and to put her/it street somehow, but it realized that whitish stains had dirtied her. You/he/she could not put back her/it so, and it also threw on the bed close to the shirt that shroud of shame, in attended that the weekly questua of the dirty cloths justified a laundry.

It grabbed a shirt and without delaying over it returned in the kitchen.

Odors, sounds, colors of year suggested him ancient rituals, gestures of healthy habit famigliare.

Taken the remote control and turned on on the newscast: it had to be more or less that the time of the news when, student, got up still to schedules workers. The voice of the reporter spread in the air together with the odor of the coffee. It opened the belief and takings of the biscuits. Those that were, not certain first oven. Then he sat and it turned him toward the screen, crunching.

The news-bulletin was already begun and a correspondent wound in the numbers was facing the economic page usual litany of global misfortunes.

The silence of Angel lasted by now from too much and Helen tried to graze him/it.

«Angel, speaking of the other night.»

To that indication, Angel became stiff.

«We don't have anything to say» it sentenced, simulating unpublished interest for the course of the titles. But shortly he remembered that of economy didn't absolutely understand anything and allowed to go out a truth whose awareness was matured only him to the mind in that instant. «I want to go out of it. I will tell him/it Emilio. I won't participate anymore.» One direct on the conscience.

As Helen you/he/she would have reacted, anxious to share the walk of the life with his/her Angel, and done unload by him really to the beginning?

«Before passing to the foreign ones, we have an updating on the horrible crime in Milan with which we have opened the newspaper.»

If storm had ever had away way of sweeping life, here that of these two the debut of the journalist made shreds of pure dismay.

Every thought fell in the void, as if of the succession both already knew.

«The enquirers have furnished the generalities of the girl found dead this morning to the dawn near the Park Sempione. It deals with Laura Fontana seventeen years. The family ones of the victim, that we remember were not in the city, I/you/they have already been contacted, and you/they are also reentering for proceeding to the pain recognition of the body. Nothing has still been revealed regarding the causes of the death, that it seems to have happened for suffocation. There are no traces of violence, even if to the moment the sexual motive stays the principal hypothesis of investigation.»

# Chapter 29.

Not later of the afternoon, Angel was where you/he/she had understood that you/he/she would have been brought soon.

The news had entered him house as a stab. "They will come me to take" you/he/she had kept on repeating and the benevolent sister, that thought raved, you/he/she strove him to reassure him/it. But too many signs conducted to him, many more than how much Helen could imagine. Many more than how much himself had memory.

An officer from the irritating gentleness escorted him/it up to the office of the District Attorney and knocked in his/her place. The door opened him, it did him/it enter and there he/she left him/it.

The PM was intent to skim through documents.

«You arranges» it told him without being upset himself/herself/themselves. Angel took a seat. The President bewared him/it of the wall, the flag he was dozed off along the auction as a sentinel that he sleeps embraced to the rifle.

«Sastri Angelo» it murmured the enquirer reading to tall voice. You still lost away with the thought an instant, leaving alone Angel with his/her own thoughts. Cursed masters of the time, blissfully ignorant of other people's thoughts.

«Your father calls Glenn Stromberg. How come hands the maternal last name?»

What humiliation, accused of homicide and the first question to which it had to answer it was one whom he was not even never set by itself.

«The law allows a mixed couple not married to apply.»

«Sastri, doesn't offend me!» irridente interrupted him/it. «He/she wants that I/you/he/she don't know the Italian laws? I have asked her how come you have chosen the Italian name and not that Swedish.»

Is it to this what it rubs him some? Did he/she want to applaud to the nationalistic pride or to be sorry himself/herself/themselves for the injured patriarchal right?

«Mother and dad had little trust in the Italian provincialism. They perhaps believed that it was better for us to be recorded with a more comprehensible name to the fellow countrymen.»

«It departed prejudiced. It is not a good way, doesn't he/she believe?»

Not believing, it avoided to answer. The PM didn't decompose him, and it continued in the applications.

«Of job ago the actor.» It tore off the eyes from the sheet and for the first turns it deigned him to look at him/it in face. It was obvious that it looked for you some comparsatas television and not finding continued her/it. «Its occupation can complicate our job.»

«Part prejudiced. This even is not a good way, doesn't he/she believe?»

The enquirer didn't decompose him.

«My duty is that to verify the truth.»

«From for discounted that he doesn't want to give her/it.»

The PM put on comfortable on the back, to feel happy some availability of the heads.

«Then gives her/it for me.»

«I can give her my truth» he/she specified, as to disenchant him/it.

«Truth is an alone» he/she rebuked him/it priestly.

«With the job that does, he/she knows well that is not so.»

As to grant him a non due complicity, confided him «With the job that I do, he/she knows well that cannot say him/it.»

It was the moment. The deposition on his/her nighttime past.

Such a next past to be seemed ever existed. A past of fatal weakness, departed in hostage of a false excitement, put to the ropes by invisible and invincible enemies that that day, from good infamous, they were not even present to be delighted of his/her defeat. You/he/she would not have seen anymore them, among the bars of a cell that, sun, would have preserved him/it. Against also his/her same wish.

It told, Angel, of the evening before.

Without shame, without hiding himself/herself/themselves. The walk to Brera, the greed of seduction, the alcohol only relief. Then the return in house, propping the story of the details that, to work, you/they had been him attached: times, places, turn. It realized that many of that details were vague in the memory, and in those abysses he/she knew the heart of the confession he hid: that that others had surely sewn him I set.

Then, in room, bare of every modesty, it didn't hold back any detail, he/she almost wanted to infect the cop with the excitement. He/she almost wanted to remember himself/herself/themselves to all the costs of thing it was to excite him.

«Therefore you/he/she has masturbated together with the victim» it dared to interrupt the story the judge, it almost feared further non essential details of it to the investigations. «But has you/he/she reached the orgasm?»

Professional question, lacking of vulgarity. Misunderstood utility, but to the accused it is not permissible to understand.

«Yes» it limited him to recognize.

«You remembers what times you/they could be?»

«Toward midnight» approssimò with a certain safety.

«You/he/she has been satisfied from the orgasm?» What questions, the orgasm is satisfaction for definition. Also those extorted with the deception? «I make sense of better me» it specified, realizing the turn to empty of the thoughts of Angel. «The ejaculation has freed her/it from its uncontrollable frenzy?»

«If this is the perspective, yes. I was tired, I have closed an instant the eyes and I/you/they have collapsed dormant»

«There is someone who can try him/it?»

Devil of question, where was the makeup?

«My sister has come to my house, you/he/she has entered soon with his/her keys forenoon. You/he/she has found me so, and you/he/she has let me sleep.»

«Times?»

«Seven, believe, seven and half at the most. Then I wake up, memory that I have had breakfast and the eight newscast starts. hardly» you stopped, as if it expected again the break-in of some filthy news.

«We return to his/her reconstruction» it brought him/it on the piece. «After the orgasm, has you/he/she continued to chattare?»

«No. I have told her that I have fallen asleep.»

«Therefore has not you/he/she had contacts with the victim anymore?»

«No.»

He/she answered categorical, also being him the first one not to trust himself/herself/themselves itself. And the answer of the cop did him/it knock down on its uncertainties.

«To us the contrary one results.»

It didn't surprise. It was for a motive that went over this of which it preserved memory there. It was alone curious to know what.

The District Attorney drew from the cartelletta a packet of sheets.

«These are the transcripts of the conversation intervened tonight between his/her account and that of the girl.» It selected a pair of it and it abandoned them in front of the suspect. «Up to the 12:03, the transcript substantially confirms what you/he/she has told us. To that point, a videochiamata has taken over, that has not been saved for the parameters of privacy activated.» That he was sorry, the pig, not to be able to peer at? «The dialogue is closed later exactly fourteen minutes, at 12:17 o'clock.»

End of the truth. Of his/her truth. Angel attended to this point that of the cop.

«But at the 01:08, the conversation is taken back. And these are the transcripts.»

It lengthened him the new sheets, also in this case two heavy paginettes as the lead.

Angel read and reread the sentences that nailed him/it. Sentences that its overdone imagination would even have been able never to suggest him. What they completed the picture indiziario, not only pointing out him/it as the last person to have had contacts with Laura but also as he who had attracted her in the place of the crime. As I break down, it came from the PM the last confirmation. «Its PC has definitely been out at 7.12 o'clock.» Also the gesture of Helen he was therefore incasellato to his/her place.

«I have not written him me.» it affirmed Angel without dissuading the look from the sheets.

«Because he/she slept?»

«Because I have not written him!» insistette.

«You/he/she could have wakened up?» he/she insinuated the enquirer.

You/he/she can be him anything.

«I don't know him/it.»

Bad answer.

«He/she doesn't know him/it. Doesn't he/she remember to have continued the conversation then?»

«No.»

«He/she doesn't remember or has not you/he/she continued her?»

«I don't know him/it.»

«He/she doesn't know what?»

«I don't know a cazzo!» it shouted for going out of that rhetorical labyrinth. «I don't know to what question wants that answer! Because he/she doesn't directly ask me if I have killed Laura?»

The PM kept the calm dressing again himself/herself/itself of authority.

«If it doesn't regret her, this is my job. If I don't ask him him, it is because it is not the moment to do him/it. I remind her that it is the most greater suspect for the homicide of a minor. If he/she wants to collaborate, it will be better for everybody. Otherwise, a test of the Dna will remove every doubt.»

Or you/he/she would have created more terrible of it.

They were already to the Dna. The scientific Royal had eguagliato the television serial times: you already isolate the traces of the assassin. Of however, of sexual crime trattavasi, had sentenced the media. And there is no sex without organic shed.

«Thing has happened her?» Curiosity prevailed on every guarantee.

«Tells us him her.»

«I don't know him/it.»

«Already it is true. If he/she doesn't remember him/it» he/she specified. However complied and Laura relived his/her last instant. «The victim in reality has never reached the Triennial. The assassin has intercepted her before, probably in avenue Milton. You/he/she has brought her with itself in the zone planted with trees that it coasts along metals her/it some railroads North, a hidden zone and without television cameras. It doesn't have to have her/it forced, on the body there am no evident signs of violence or coercion.» Translated, the victim knew his/her assassin. It didn't tell him/it the judge but not us n'era need. «The girl has been killed in the same place where we have found her. And I swear her that, in so many years, I have never known about so repugnant crimes.» Who knows if it told him/it all investigate ones him hoping to get a quiver of revealing eyebrow. Then it specified, as if you/he/she had gathered the doubt of it. «You/he/she will have noticed that even the press has refused to spread the details of the crime.» There was some truth. It owed to have committed indeed a crime masterpiece. Sinned not to remember him/it to him.

The judge delayed. Was it also anticipated on the script this? A true assassin would have smaniato to hear his/her own iniquity narrate and you/he/she would have pursued him/it to continue. Angel tried therefore to dress its cloths.

«Thing has happened her?» he/she asked, the most peaceful possible. And the story didn't delay to come.

«The ragazzina has reached with the assassin the plant behind which we have found again the body. There you/he/she has been made to kneel. Let's not believe has forced her, perhaps plagiarized. You has practised a fellatio and the assassin you/he/she has suffocated her/it with the member. The throat has literally been broken down and while the youth groped, you/he/she has covered her the nostrils. You/he/she had already died when you/he/she has enjoyed her in mouth. There was not so much seed, as if the assassin him pits already emptied before brutalizing her/it.»

Beautiful quadretto. From the morning to now to wonder himself/herself/themselves thing had happened and now finally to fall I set him the whole plebeian repugnance of the life. Not of his, of the life in general.

All pupazzettis in a play, all saints without heaven, all damned ones without damnation.

You/he/she would have had to cry, to shout, to inveigh, to repent him, to collaborate, to insinuate, to accuse, to excuse him. Above all to love. But nothing of all of this prevailed, if not the resignation to see him offer for the first time a street of exit. Perhaps it was the only goal that deserved.

«I want to make the test of the Dna and I want immediately to do him/it. I will wait here for the results.»

I don't want to go out anymore, this perhaps the most sincere sentence, that omitted to also confess to his/her conscience.

«Thing is this whole hurry now?» Ironizzò the PM, amazed but pleased. «For the examination he/she doesn't speak before tomorrow. For the results, then.»

«Makes me arrest.»

The last intention of Angel, was to tear that smile bastard from the judge.

«She doesn't perhaps know well as it works in these cases» ironizzò. «I don't have neither the elements, neither the time to ask to the GIP for the custody to protect. Its situation, is not so compromised for now.»

«You/he/she can always order a lock, it would have the whole time to ask its validation tomorrow.» Ever found an uncensured very informed, the PM he surprised. «The results that will arrive, will make the rest.»

The judge he allowed to enmesh from the embryo of confession.

«Where it was night yesterday?» he/she finally asked him.

«Where its truth will want me to have been.» The mail was by now in game. Who would be gone out satisfied of it? «He/she wants to still waste other time?»

What pits the profit of Angel, could rub also. But what pits his, the enquirer knew very well it.

«I will send forth the order of lock, this night will be conducted in the jail» it said looking at him/it in face without seeing shades of emotions. «But knows that, from anything coop escaping, the bars won't be enough for to stop her/it.»

# Chapter 30.

You/he/she was made to beat inside as a refusal.

Whoever had frequented jails, you/he/she would ever have seen so much submissiveness in a prisoner. Angel was in custody to protect, a highway to four passages toward the sentence. Yet it seemed not to rub him nothing of it.

Immense Angel, gives birth rejected among his/her/their brothers! This yes that ago incazzare the Old one!

The makeup of Your success has been really this: few grams of pepper I press to the rectum. Nothing can slip on the man without upsetting him/it: in the good or in the evil, the permeability to the emotions will always conduct him/it to the presence of the creator. "Thanks, God, that have blessed my vacations with a blinding sun!" "God, have pity of me, and make me the rain that can favor my crops."

But above all" God, forgives my sins."

The Old man would appreciate even from Angel a wince of malignant pride: I don't know to have killed, but I me of the truogolo of lust and blood that I have contributed to create.

"Reformed, villain!" "No, old infatuated!" If you/he/she had not had liking for Don Giovanni, it would not have him/it certain done to celebrate from one of his/her more results creatures.

But Angel had abdicated by now. Died civil, you/he/she had chosen. Death of the soul in a body organically funzionante.

It lay annoyed on a cot in an isolated cell. It was always also the brutal assassin of an innocent minor and for some crimes the prison code is less well indulgent than that penal.

To abduct him/it from itself same, the warder it came.

«Sastri there is your lawyer.»

Here it is, the non in demand custodian of the legal virginity. Unbearable pack, fruit of a wince of cruelty of the Old one, that was the first one of their stock when it shouted in the desert" anybody touches Caino."

Already sat to the table in the room of the interviews, the pettifogger attended composed, hiding his/her own conscience behind thick glasses.

A prince of the hole, thirty years on it places, foraged by anxious relatives, anxious to get back to house his/her child. And not because they knew him/it innocent.

«Lawyer.» he/she greeted him/it dowdy, throwing himself/herself/itself lazy on the chair.

«Good morning Angel, as are you?»

«The anamnesis is inclusive in the price?»

The anamnesis no, but the patience would have bewitched her apart.

«We come therefore to the: I have ready the appeal of release from prison.»

Silence on the other side. Not that it was waited for the exultation but at least that it didn't ignore so the possibility to recover himself/herself/themselves his/her own life up to the trial.

«So much doesn't pass.»

The lawyer removed from him the glasses, he passed a handkerchief in forehead, you/he/she cleaned the lenses, the all to deceive the nervousness that that beau transmitted him.

«Angel, you are innocent.»

«They says of no.»

«You are innocent» it repeated. «And we will try him/it to us.»

«It goes from there of his/her reputation?»

«It goes from there of your life» him stizzì. «Listen to me: this is the last time that you will feel me worry me for you, of now in before I will speak to you the only language that you want to feel, and it is that of the law. For which repeat you: you could be already in house within the end of the week.»

Angel also hardened, strong of tests that encircled him/it as a wall.

«I don't see how: the sperm in the throat of Laura is mine. And under his/her fingernails, the fragments of skin found have my Dna. There was me to gobble the girl that night. Nessun'altra reconstruction has sense.»

«Stop to make her/it the victim! You know very well it not to be gone out of your room.»

«It looks like it is a detail, that to the judges it doesn't interest.»

«But it will interest this.» The lawyer found a wince of professional enthusiasm. To do scarcerare an investigated nailed by signs so eclatanti could make to enter him/it the gotha of the manipulators of justice. And you/they would not have been the whims snarling autolesionistici of that pupattolos to separate him/it from the success.

Takings of the sheets from the handbag and it turned them toward Angel. That he was careful not to read them.

«We depart from the Dna of the fragments of skin. The victim has rebelled.» There pits of the reproach in the colds eyes of Angel? A wince of respect for a sectioned body, ricucito and buried in everybody hurry that once pulsated of warm blood? «Laura» he corrected. «With the strength you/he/she has been kept in knee and you/he/she has been prevented her from getting away himself/herself/themselves from the throat the fault. You/he/she has tried to free himself/herself/themselves some hold of the hands, scratching his/her assassin.»

«And then? That skin is mine, so it results from the analyses.»

«Not really, analyses are confused. You/they have found masculine Dna and that corresponds to you. But there were also traces of female Dna, that has not been analyzed never.»

«You/he/she can be of whoever, also of same Laura.»

«But however it would give us some time. And even more it would give this of it.» New sheet and new indifference. «This is the skill on the sperm found her in throat: the quantity of inactive sperms points out that the throw was more old man of a few times, perhaps also of one day in comparison to the presumed time of the crime.»

Angel faked well to neglect the sense of the datum.

«And all this, to thing you/he/she can bring?»

«You don't understand? It would be enough to ask a new examination on the Dna and you you would be out, at least up to the verification of the second genetic profile.»

«I appreciate your attempts, mother and dad you/they are spending well their money. But the skin is mine. The sborra is mine. Also the computer is mine.»

«Also this is not exact: the account is yours. The computer is not demonstrable. With a Horse of Sow whoever would have been able to take possession of your profile and to have written to your place. Angel, nobody has seen you go out.»

«But nobody has also seen me stay us.»

With studied gesture, it removed again from him the glasses, as if to appear less nerd could confer him greater credit.

«Boy, listen well to me: in this moment you/he/she is easier to make to go out you that to hold you inside. Which doesn't mean absolution: the PM will give battle, because of signs are of it. But if I leave here now you, I would come less to my professional duties.»

«Afar from me to slander you in front of the bulletin-board.»

Therefore the light of days attended again it agonizzanti and sleepless nights in a house by now extraneous. The city already grinded the teeth, with the mumbling stomach for the hunger. Fresh meat in meal in the Milan to be fed. Where, hidden among the colds buildings, one hundred and more modern sciamanis perpetrated to them liking spells of apparition and disappearance.

If someone has been able to enter his/her computer, to steal his intimacy, misusing to his/her insaputa of his/her same skin as of his/her seed, if someone has been able impunemente to close the mouth to Laura unloading him the guilt, that someone you/he/she would not have attended further for also closing her/it to him. Even you/he/she would have found correct a less repugnant way.

«I don't know from thing you hide you» taken back the lawyer. «Neither because in the jail you feel you to the sure one. But I can assure you that the true dangers you race here them inside.»

«Ago' what you owe» the granted Angel.

«I would have done him however.» They were the last words before getting up.

The hand didn't hand him, an useless gesture knew him/it. Also Angel, from his/her par, he was already getting further.

«However it is Helen» it told him the last one, recalling the attention of it. «Helen, not mother and dad, that you/he/she is spending his/her money to throw out you.»

Poor little sister, destined to see to slip his/her own aspirations, in sweet attended of a gratitude that would never have arrived her.

Angel crossed to bashful the corridor that brought him/it in the cell, in an area common to the prisoners. It was free in that breaker and this tormented him/it, free to chain him to the thoughts from which you/he/she was escaped.

Earth look, to proceed ciondolante.

It bumped something and it was found against the wall.

As reawakened, it was found I set the hot tempered look of a spitfire. A big man of so many kilos and so many more centimeters you/he/she had bumped him/it and you/he/she had done him/it he/she waits for, even if the tonnage would have made difficult pass nearby him uninjured however.

It didn't remove his eyes of back, with such a heavy look to break the breath.

A hit on the shoulder brought him/it to the present.

On the other side, a young sateen with two-headed spropositati was protected him before. It was a wolf ringhiante, a war sample separated by the flock. For this even more dangerous.

«Ettore sends yourself his/her regards» it grinded on his face, with the breath that stinked of beer.

A rabid dog, blinded by the hate, able everything. And with a good motive to do him/it.

They left him/it there, standing, without more to touch him/it. Without more to look at him/it, not us n'era need. The message had reached destination.

They went for their road turning his back. From under the braghes, the colossus exhibited a bundle tattooed littorio on the calf.

Angel knew him/it: to the next meeting, there would have been no other words.

# Chapter 31.

But nobody touched Caino.

Because Caino went out of jail before the transgressors to the divine command could effect their intention of justice.

The door of the old St. Vittore opened wide him on the light. The eyes of Angel had to adapt before giving a facing the mournful figure that attended him/it. I outline dark against sun, sad light suits, femininity punished by the affliction.

Helen, only Helen.

For the justice, the accused's guarantor. For the accused, inflexible keeper from the eyes full of pain. So much love didn't deserve words, so only a sign of smile runs among the two. Then a long silent walk conducted them up to house.

Side beside, under the scorching sun in the Milanese summer, it seemed they followed an invisible coffin, whose content had to be known to both. And as they reached Cadorna the walk it continued really in that direction, as if they had to do it covers to a forced station, as if a grisly pilgrimage could relieve their life.

They were there, long metals her/it, among the plants of the Sempione, where at night the cars dart for passing from the White Cafe to the Old Fashion. They passed to low head, as if you/they had not done him he/she waits for, as if they didn't know what cries you/he/she had been wet from the blood. Is it in effects, because you/they would ever have had to know him/it?

He/she anchors for a long time the walk it lasted, so much that you/they reached house in the late afternoon, presses almost to the sunset.

The house was always that. Theirs.

His/her parents, Adele and Glenn, with the broken heart, you/they had again estranged from Italy after being him vainly fallen to the news of the arrest. Angel them you/he/she had never wanted to meet and Helen had convinced them to return him of it in Holland.

«I open me?» First brave words, voice of woman that whispers on the steps.

Simply angel nodded.

The door opened on a lived house and cleaning up. In the slanting light that entered from the windows, the scene that he offered him was everything the contrary of what he/she remembered to have left. Around, signs for him unmistakable, those of a happy-go-lucky age, those of Helen.

You looked around as if it were a guest.

«You have been here?»

«Only after mother and dad have departed.» Angel turned toward the corridor that brought to his/her room. «Your life has remained there inside, I have not touched her.» It hastened to reassure him/it.

«You are wrong you. There inside I have not left anything.»

«It is void then you will find again.»

It went to the kitchen, where tramontava the sun, to bless the supper in family. To cook without light bulb, up to that the eyes had allowed him/it. A pasta ever burns, never a burnt soffritto.

Angel had grown thin and Helen from his/her par. To cook together would perhaps have made more comforting also the to eat, so few gestures brought them to prepare an essential supper, that you/they started to still consume in silence.

It was not good, nothing more it had taste. A watered ready juice as soon as an insipid pasta, envelopes of meats to the limit of the expiration attended to replace a second.

Picture of dissolution, deep wounds too much and too much recent. But the silence at least, that deceptive hideaway, had to be sweeps away, both knew him/it. There were no more secret to defend, neither treasures to be guarded.

«Angel» he/she called him/it.

«You keep silent.»

«Angel, prays you.»

«You keep silent!» sbottò incazzato as an impotent husband. A lash for Helen, a nail shot in the heart.

You chased away again the tears in throat. It was not the moment of the weeping yet. And it begged.

«Because you hate your liberty?»

Angel seemed to that point to find interest for the words of his/her/their sister.

«You speak of liberty? You were not you that that to the high school one day told me" You liberty me ago fear?" Then your fear was well secret. Only if enslaved we can survive. And what we have lived together, is the night before last the confirmation of it.»

You/he/she had returned him so on the point of the lips the night of the sabba to his/her romantic way. It repented instantly but for his/her fortune Helen seemed to want to leave far even more that memoirs. At least for the time being.

«You are right. I am still afraid, I have even more of it. Because I have been alone, of a line. And you/he/she is seemed me to go crazy.»

«But you are never alone.» The brims a consolatory trap. And pointing out his/her own head. «The others. The others inside of they never abandon you to you.»

Helen he allowed to suffer a desperate anger.

«Thing say, Angel, frightens me! You speak as a psychopath. Cannot you wait to give voice to your obsessions, true? The others inside of you, the only others of which have ever cared, because always to you they brought. You have been so thoughtful to lend them thousand ears and thousand bawls. And of the others, those that you/they live around you, are not wanted never yourself to realize. As of Laura.» Laura there is not. A thought that was him disgusting, also for the naturalness with which you/he/she had appeared on the surface. And instead of rintuzzare the assault of the memory, let her/it sink. «You have worn out her, you have squeezed her/it to get a pleasure that existed only in your mind. Have always pursued nonexistent pleasures without never reaching them, as if these shouted you" is late, is late!" Have you seen in that hole of culo you are fallen now?»

An anal country of the wonder, without skirt neither toy balloon, narrow among the crags of the duodeno, the darkened senses, in nanny of the only sense of smell. It perfectly shared the analysis of his/her situation. What would ever have accepted it was the proposed solution. For her the street of exit was to kill cacare. For him it was to let him suffocate.

«I have always acted as if the world were worthy of mine to exist. Now he is avenging. Others, too many over me, have decided me guilty. And I cannot oppose me.»

«Because once more you consider yourself only. Alone you cannot oppose yourself. But us yes. Together.» Together with his/her/their sister it had five-year periods of memoirs. Pages and pages of life that one were bundled on the other, written so dense to appear by now illegible. «Angel you are not alone. You have never been him/it, even if you are never wanted to realize of it.» From which pages it drew? «I have always admired you, while from you only you built your life. You didn't need me, yet there has always been: of my devotion you have always been aware. But now that you feel your destiny shatter himself/herself/themselves in the hands, that your only strengths are not enough for you more, you try the confusion of the defeat. But I am here always, you have only to look me with other eyes. Don't seek the admiration that you gave anymore for discounted. But you do I strive him/it to come to look for her/it, because I have never lost her.»

How much affection, what cares! Such a devoted love that only himself was able to give him. It started so to recognize another himself, thought with the apostrophe.

«You want me innocent to all the costs. Do you believe to succeed in putting again all of my guilts?»

«I want you free. Free also to stain even more you of defamatory guilts. But that accusation, Angel, has to remove from you her of back. Otherwise you will die. And with you, I will die also. If you don't want to do him/it for you, fault at least for me.»

For me, that am another victim of your guilts, you/he/she would have had to add. Or what more than you are a lot, because you complete.

«I know that you are you svenando for that lawyer» it told her with how much gratitude could afford. «But even if I submitted me to him, you know well that won't be enough.»

«It is for this that you will need me.»

There was something in that sentence that suddenly upset him/it, and in that look, in that bold smile. The brittleness of Helen was enfeebled too much in hurry. It didn't ask her questions, but it understood that she didn't wait anything else other than to reveal the plan.

«I can make to acquit you Angel. Because I can be your alibi.»

You/he/she had gotten up from his/her place and is sat nearby him, as if the proximity could confirm its ideas.

«I don't understand» it said him finding nearby her to him.

You smiled blessed, illuminated by a sudden fury.

«I will say that I was with you that night. Here, with you.» The gratification for the gimmick put on her as a vestitino of the communion. It was a rascal that told the prank to his/her/their brother, hoping to tear him a laughter of complicity. But never as that night, the heritage of their infancy appeared an agonizing messinscena.

«What sense it has, Helen?» The regret didn't succeed in hiding the worry. «You have not now told him/it up to, as could you result believable later so much time?»

To that point, the unthinkable one happened. Helen started to shed tears. Not to cry, as if those drops didn't come from the heart, but if the same creating. An emotional laboratory that froze the blood to Angel.

«Your honor.» It threw above with the nasino, while it was declaiming with childish vocina. «I didn't want to hide him/it. But I was ashamed so much. I am not a bad girl, your honor.»

«Helen, stop her/it, I pray you.» But to pray didn't serves her/it to nothing. A capricious child cannot be begged, he can favor only.

«Yes, your honor, Angel is never gone out of his/her house that night. I was with him. Like many other nights, from so many years.»

The small one crouched him to his/her feet, begging in knee. You supported with the hands on his/her legs, approaching the visino to the basin.

«We have never been able to say him/it because we were ashamed. But now, that the danger of a great injustice impends on him, anymore him I cannot keep silent.»

The hands of Helen stirred on the strong thighs, they caressed devoted the muscles. You/he/she would have liked to kick her/it, you/he/she would have had to do him/it. But it tasted an infancy already lived and that taste started to inebriate him/it.

«How, has not your honor, understood still it?» He/she didn't succeed in dissuading the eyes from his/her porca look, from child porca. Child that yesterday he/she asked lights on thing his/her body you/he/she would have become and that today it already had everything to teach. «Angel and I have a relationship. From years. For a long time.»

The fingers were runs to the zipper, but before you/they could graze her/it, Angel was jumped standing, rejecting her/it.

«But what bushels saying, Helen? Of which relationship you speak? I don't have any intention to invent me a similar lie.»

«Lie?» Helen also got up furious. «Lie is that that pronounces now!»

It drew near him, again languid.

«We have lied to ourselves for a whole life. But we now know him/it: you and I belong there.»

Let's know now it. Now that he had started to forget him it realized him/it her. But it didn't have guilt of it: others had shouted him/it to him, rousing her/it hidden, crouched in the cavern of his/her fears and pushing her/it to strength toward the light.

«It is our destiny, my angel, written by the birth.» You dampened the lips with the language and it disclosed her, as a maternal womb destined to give birth to the Eternal Life. «We complete there and we are the one of the other. We don't know only it us: they also know him/it the others.»

Let's know him/it us because they know him/it the others, you/he/she would have had to say for giving the correct hierarchy to the awareness. That others again involved seemed the quotation of a medieval auctoritas. How Angel could you/he/she contest her/it?

«Helen.» it whispered the breath broken in breast to half mouth.

«Angel, what we have lived the night before last.»

«Not to say a word» it painfully got by from the throat, pits an order or a supplication.

«You cannot now throw back yourself.» You were nearby again him the body that already licked up him/it. «You have made me make a footstep that I have never wanted. You have the duty to come with me, until after all.»

«Until after all where?» It was not able anything else other than to minimize, to dismiss, to desecrate. «I have forced you, it is true, to take part to a farce: those that you have lived are only senseless hallucinations.»

Helen pushed him/it away from itself as prey of an obsession ever emerged.

«It is not true, it is not true!» it shouted with how much breath had in body. «You know that is not true! That light, that shone us inside, the sounds, the colors. The others have spoken to me, Angel, and you/they have spoken to me of you. And you were mine and me I was them. Was insane, because have never been very happy! I have seen, I have finally seen everything. And you with me!»

I discharge him to it went appeasing, as if the thousand bawls that spoke through her had realized to be made him discover.

«We have been together also the night before last. Where you were, I was also me.»

And what followed it reawakened calmed dreams.

Helen, beautiful also when marked by the pain, perhaps for this even more it started to unbutton himself/herself/themselves the blouse.

The neckline widened on the candid bra on the abdomen. It also untied the button of the pantalonis, leaving that the edge of the panties of simple white cotton discovered him.

The edge of the desires, over which Angel saw to slip himself/herself/themselves her hand, and to start to torment himself/herself/themselves.

Helen left half open the eyes, panting to closed mouth, as if he/she wanted to pick up every energy before howling his/her own pleasure. Or as if the pleasure didn't know whether to find him/it.

And then it returned him I set, the anxious sister, sure that he would have shown him/it to him.

«You don't want to return child with me?»

Smorfiosa puttanella, beloved for a long time. The invitation to the game was irresistible but the time was by now broken.

«No, Helen.» he/she answered her. «Not after what has happened that night.»

Liar: he/she didn't even know what had happened. It tried her to explain him him, unheeded new queen.

«But don't you understand that really that night has brought us to our indissolubilità? We were inseparable.» he/she remembered him with joy.

«We are brother and sister.» Kindly it picked up the memory Angel. «We were born together, grown together.»

«And we are desired together there» it expedited Helen. «We are children of a superior order, brothers in the desire.»

Stricken.

Helen hastened. And he realized of as the words they sometimes have a history.

A history that maledì to have started to listen.

«Thing you have said?» he/she asked her removing himself/herself/itself.

Any fear grazed her sleep. It smiled, the young girl as Pollicino that it rediscovers the road of house.

«What is true. We are united for a long time and forever, not as two deadly communes. Both we want that the other is really what it is. Alive with me, sweet Angel, and let's satisfy together us some breath of the air.»

Angel horrified.

Those words, those damned words, that by now you/he/she was convinced to have written, do you snatch so that who, if not from the legitimate owner?

Angel stared at Helen as if he saw her/it for the first time.

In the lost look he/she read the pride of the guilt. And that revelation stole him the soul.

It withdrew of a footstep, then of another. A frightened baby to the presence of his/her nightmare.

Raced in his/her room, closed again it brings her/it to his/her shoulders. In his/her chaos he/she was wanted to feel sure, but it was not able. Children you/he/she cannot be returned, not when you/he/she has been started to quantify the weight of the truth.

The room was dark and intact the spoiled air. It was true, Helen had not entered there.

It was as if you/he/she had wanted that he met again him with that obscene night.

The shirt was still thrown on the bed, nearby raggomitolata the cover. That stained.

Stained as the shirt, as if shortly after I squirt him/it someone you/he/she had supported her on the damp seed.

Shortly after. Not times later, when you/he/she would have been dry.

Helen was there beforehand.

«I was here already, before you arrived.»

The voice slipped under the door, as if it corrected thoughtful to reassure the doubts.

By now he/she knew. Both knew.

The baby faded away, you/he/she was not right to be anymore. By now you/he/she had thrusted the nasino where it didn't owe.

It reopened the door and Helen, a stupendous murderess, was there, still unbuttoned, with the heart at sight.

«What you have done?» he/she asked Angel trembling.

You smiled. Then it poured a tear. But it didn't stop smiling.

«What you have done?» it howled desperate.

It appropriated her the face and it pushed away her. It pushed her violently in stay and it threw her/it on the couch.

You covered him with the braccias, as if it attended a discharge of barrel, that however didn't arrive.

Sobbing and laughing reassured him and it started sitting from good child.

«I am your sister Angel. I have to defend you.»

«To defend me from who? From a ragazzina?»

«To defend you from yourself» it told him sure. «I have always believed that you had come to the world to protect me but I were wrong me. I was me that I had to protect you and to drive you. Was I a bait, do you understand? Behind which have raced for the whole life. Just now that you had to reach me, you were about to lose you. I have had to stop me and to pick up you.»

Anger, frustration, pain, compassion. Nausea. Angel was massacred. How to go out of it, if not unloading I set her anger? The hands, the hands wanted to shatter her madness to suon of hits. But the punishment was even more a fierce torment. And that body discinto, spread out on the couch as a victim, an unbridled provocation.

«You were here, you have seen everything.» It threw again her I set the disgust.

«Yes, I have seen. I have seen your siparietto the hunger with which you panted to that empty hull. When you have closed the eyes, I have acted, as a queen that protects his/her people.»

Or a morbid sister that marks the territory.

«You have written you to my place.»

«You slept as a pup.» You weakened in the memory. «I have invited the cagnetta, that immediately is raced by his/her master.»

Angel schifato wanted to oppose he anchors.

«You bushels lying» it said, denying himself. «You cannot have does him you. Not for as you/he/she is happened.»

«You want to know how you/he/she is happened?» No that he/she didn't want him/it. Just for this any glie or you/he/she would have avoided. «Wait here me.» Helen got up from the couch as a concubine that he takes the time to get ready himself/herself/themselves.

Distorted roles, broken life. Angel was not ready for everything this. Nothing and nobody had ever prepared him/it to so much torment.

As habit reacted it suggested him: raced in the kitchen and it went to uncork the bottle of a liqueur of which he/she didn't even read the label. You/he/she was distilled pure, it burned along the esophagus. But it was relief in comparison to the deep burning of the soul. Damned soul, already ready to brown among the flames of the hell. Bentornato in house, Child my beloved.

Helen reached him/it in the kitchen, with the hands hidden behind the back. It looked at him/it malicious, as to attend a wince of curiosity that would never have come. This way it broke the delay.

«Ta gives!» The sound effect also accompanied the to appear of a tool of pleasure and death. To that sight, Angel felt to miss.

It was one strap-on. A perfect reproduction of a big masculine fault, ready to be worn by dominant females.

The gastric acids leaned out in mouth, pushed by her indifference: Laura had been killed with that rubber cazzos.

«You/he/she has arrived of run flood of hopes. You had to see her/it, it scurried about in the dark, regardless of every danger. I have stopped her that it was still on street Pagan. You/he/she has recognized me, it seemed surprise, but in a certain sense flattered. I knew him/it that that misunderstanding was not able whether to entangle her/it. Does he/she kiss well, do you know? You had chosen really a good lover. Sin for you not to have ever used her/it.»

It continued the story, glorifying himself/herself/itself of as thin appreciations and caresses well you arrange you/they had convinced the ragazzina to kneel, to extract from his/her braghes that pretense and to put in scene an artificial fellatio.

«That boccuccia would have emptied you the coglionis» it provoked him/it. «You/he/she has succeeded in making to bathe me while I was looking her/it at ciucciare a plastic piece: who knows thing would have done with a true bargain. With yours.»

You/he/she had grabbed him/it to him with strength. Angel tightened the teeth but you/he/she didn't give her satisfaction to wriggle out himself/herself/themselves.

This way the hold turned him into caresses. It is to reached consistence, he/she left him/it free.

«You would have liked to shoot her your astute seed in throat? I have thought there me to make to reach him/it destination.»

The tests, build to art.

«You have picked up me him while I was sleeping.»

«You have overturned I set a sea of passion. And from that sea I have drawn precious drops.»

«Precious for thing? To insert me?»

«To insert you?» it repeated her. «What ugly way that uses for defining the salvation.»

To save him/it with the jail. To save him/it from the jail. The female owner he was regaining the male. And its thirteenth rib would have made him/it.

«Also my skin you have succeeded in scattering on the scene of the crime?»

New detail, that Helen wanted to show useless.

«Thing serves you know him/it?» he/she asked him disdainful. «You have to stop to think her/it about the death.»

Then Helen the surprises indeed. With the usual elegance, him riabbottonò the suits. It bent the head of side an usual, comprehensive and brotherly gesture, that announced only sweetness. It smiled at him.

«Now that everything is finished, we have defeated the death.» It laced the button of the pantalonis for last, and there, caressing, he/she left both the hands on the abdomen. «Our fruit won't die anymore. Because it is not born from a deadly love.»

It was not more possible to shinily oppose himself/herself/themselves to the dissolution of every logic, of every ethics, of every humanity. Not that you/he/she was ever rubbed him of it nothing of the human humanity, you/he/she had always considered her a well devised legend but nothing more.

Yet, slipped together with the scarp on the fund of the abyss that him same you/he/she had contributed to dig, he/she saw entirely a new world. Looking in on, to see from where you/he/she was fallen, it discovered the existence of the sky. Even if every gesture of his/her life, every gesture of all the lives, would have blocked always him of it the meaning.

«Thing is this new devilry?» the churches dismay. Helen smiled at him.

«Yes. You have really reason.» The caresses on the abdomen didn't stop. «It will be really a beautiful little devil.»

«But of what cazzo do you speak, Helen?» it bursted out, the strangled voice.

«You have understood very well it: I am not only me to have need that you are free.»

Angel horrified. Perhaps even more that for the preceding revelation.

«But as it is possible?»

«You ask me him? Have I dragged there you, memoirs?»

Was it that the revenge therefore? The pain of the constraint, of the castration, of the frustration and street assonando, had conceived such a damaged fruit?

Angel was forced to remember. Between quiver and nightmares, it considered to the night of the session. He/she remembered because he/she knew, he/she knew why he/she craved. He/she craved because it ignored all the consequences of his/her mad game.

«It is not true.» You smarcò stepping backwards but the plan of the kitchen arrested its useless escape. «It is not true, you are deceiving me. You cannot be pregnant.»

«No, do you say?» And laughed. It didn't find of better.

«Stop her/it, Helen» it shouted crying. «You are not you!»

«You are right, I am the only one not to be me!» it threw again him I set. «All are me: beings that occupy me beforehand that I was born, dribbling men. And also you, finally. You have left me inside a part of you. You/he/she is growing and it is our child. Do you want to touch him/it?»

It drew near, offering the abdomen to the look of a just chosen father.

«Not to approach you» it summoned her. Helen heard again.

«You are afraid» he/she ascertained saddened. «But as you can have of it? It looks, Angel: it is our child.»

«It is not my child.» But her eyes didn't admit any different truth. «It is not my child!» it howled her with how much anger had in body.

«Yes that it is him/it. You have also seen him/it you, that night. You have seen what you/he/she was happening. And what consequences you/he/she would have involved.»

The nest.

It was therefore real. Whatever hallucination would have deserved very as to be.

Father and mother.

Fathers and mothers innumerable and hidden, alive and parasitic, you/they had squeezed their life to create them one of it.

The life of Angel and Helen it ended here therefore, torn by their hands and given to a perfect extraneous. The prisoner and the murderess were pursued the whole life: the union was the end of it.

«You will love him/it, true?» his/her mother begged him/it approaching himself/herself/itself. «You will love our child?»

For Angel instead only weeping, a desperate weeping to wash away the lordume of those words.

And if in hand, for the desperation, had you/he/she tightened the tool of the salvation suddenly?

«Love me, Angel.» Helen was by now him of forehead, to beg a kiss an embrace. The reassuring embrace of his/her/their father to the family everybody. «Love us. You are not happy?»

The stench of the last folly had reached him/it. No, it was not happy. You/he/she would never have been him/it.

Anymore.

The torment of its soul was completed in that instant.

Helen strabuzzò the eyes: that unexpected pain to the abdomen poured again him in its soul. But it immediately understood.

A warm and sticky liquid dirtied the right hand of Angel. What anchor had not stopped shutting spasmodic the handle of the long knife from kitchen.

If the was found there, under hand, fatally supported on the plan, and you/he/she had found so natural to grab him/it.

«I am sorry» it went out among his grinded teeth, the throat it bargains over and the mouth that slobbered sincere desperation.

The blocked eyes of Helen stared at him/it incredulous: you/he/she had still betrayed her. And this time, forever.

It stared at him/it, lacerated in the bowel. Yet he/she didn't want to draw away himself/herself/themselves, as if the embrace of his/her/their brother could free her/it from that of the assassin.

He/she cried.

Any more word went out of its mouth, neither of hate neither of pain. Neither of love.

Helen he left so to die among the braccias of Angel, leaving that every instant of its death was shared from the twin, as every instant of the life had been him/it.

# Chapter 32.

The darkness they are lowered.

As a curtain on the stage, that kills the actor as a guillotine, separating him/it from the irrorante heat of the public, leaving I void him/it as a man. An iron curtain, inflexible bars woven as the fingers of a dead body recomposed for the obsequieses.

A man in the cell, abandoned by the world. Only companion, the privilege to question him. To make alone himself/herself/themselves questions and to answer him without the harassing thought of the correctness, free to be wrong and to acquit him.

Angel would not be gone out of it more: double homicide. A non wanted homicide but committed and one not salesclerk but wanted.

You/they had found again him/it in the house, with his/her sister still bled abandoned on the body.

Is sat in his/her same excrements and he/she didn't eat neither he/she had been drinking for one whole day.

Until too effortless to that point to make to be thrown inside. And you/he/she would have been forever, in the brief weary of the terrestrial life. Not certain because the laws would have bound him/it to expire natural but because he/she knew there would not have been a to expire natural. Designate victim, attended the execution in the indifference.

As it would have more can interest his life after the bath in the death?

The death of the loves, of the affections, of the future. Him only person responsible.

Helen attended a baby, a tender monster fruit of the most revolting incestuous practices, child of a bunga hallucinated bunga, child of everybody, and for this not his/her.

You/he/she had also been true, it didn't interest him anymore. You/he/she had believed him/it and you/he/she had had horror of it. Fertilization of twin sister assisted from alien: it was of it enough to write in the blood the elegant word. A stab to the abdomen and such is.

And to think that he was ended there for first, in that massacre of consciences.

You/he/she had been him promised the eternal life. Eternal, as I immortalize it is the circle of a body in perpetual motion. It turned, as a magnet dragged by his/her own repulsion, around the first cause: the eternal life that had been him promised.

From there, the eternal youth, the eternal hunger, the eternity to be satisfied himself/herself/themselves, the eternity to starve him and street satiating and emptying.

It is really in that inappagabile swing of hunger and satisfaction it nested the error, first and I complete.

The first error, of a cosmos that is born from the death and through the death him perpetual, in the eternity return of the food chain.

The last error, to believe in to appear of a kind able to abstract him from that needs recalling himself/herself/itself to the divine misunderstanding of the ethics.

Sentient rings of the chain but also always rings. Just because sentient, from the multiplied needs. Just because rings, from the frustrated appeasements.

Loneliness, silence, fast: it seemed it applied those rules of devotion and meditation that so many ascetics had codified for justifying theirs to barricade him from the world. They missed prayer and meditation. The before, entirely useless. The second, entirely injurious.

To kill Helen didn't deserve some thought anymore, as without thought you/he/she had been that gesture.

Because you/he/she had killed her? You/they had asked him him in many: the stunned parents, the curial lawyer, the examining judges. You/they would never have known him/it.

With that gesture you/he/she had turned page. A last page written of a history that more it didn't concern him/it. The rest you/they would have been only white sheets, by an epilogue that it attended for a long time by now.

Also that night lay inactive on the cot.

It didn't have more even memory of when the last time had smiled. But that strange grimace was found on the face, when he/she clearly heard the open some bars.

The lock had not gone off: who knew, it had volutamente left the cell open. And there inside, all knew.

How much had you/they entered? More they were, first you/they would have done.

The first hit was sferrato with a bar of metal and smashed his ribs. The second, the face immediately disfigured later, him. Fragments of the cheekbones squirted away tore him the ocular bulb.

They followed to gust all the others. Impossible also only to howl, because the hits that the bones broke him also cut him the breath in the bellows. And the senses, good for him, went extinguishing himself/herself/itself.

And I cried on the lifeless body of my favorite Child, acquitting to have believed him/it to be able to hamper somehow my plans cancelling with that slash all my his/her progeny.

Blind and deaf to the world, Angel Sastri died in silence.

Without knowing to have stabbed an empty abdomen.

# Chapter 33.

Because by now I have learned to also make the covers.

It is really to this old proverb you/he/she was thinking Emilio Ricciuti, sunk on the back seat of a taxi. The cover was really supported close to him: a compact handbag, that will also have been reduced to the least one but it always weighed as a dead body. From when you/he/she had departed, you/he/she had not released only her an instant.

It had to personally deliver her/it: it was the last desire of a queen.

New York.

The correct place to hide cataclysms, developed epocali and sexual tendencies. The only thing that could not be done was to avoid the rush hour in Manhattan, that as known hard twenty-four hours.

Armed with holy patience, simply attended to reach destination. Meanwhile he/she thought to Helen Sastri and with so luxuriant thoughts the dead time resuscita and it runs away away on his/her same legs.

So many times you/he/she had happened him to consider to his/her unexpected visit, that one month-old afternoon ago.

Too many events had upset that day: the death of Laura, that the newscast of midday had sciorinato under his eyes, the almost instant arrest of Angel, that dragged in proxy it was not of it more gone out. And then Helen, that had appeared to the sudden one in the laboratory. It was his/her laboratory but Emilio you/he/she had desired theirs it became. It was as to get back has her/it to house, for an only time. Then she would have disappeared, leaving behind of itself what him, together with the whole world, went looking for for a long time.

He/she anchors he/she didn't succeed in believing in what you/he/she had asked him.

«Emilio, hurried: it needs immediately to freeze him/it.»

There was some seed, in that Eppendorf ache preserved that sciorinando went in front of his nose.

«Of whom is?» you/he/she had asked her alarmed.

«It is of Angel» you/he/she had answered him without being upset himself/herself/themselves.

Angel, the beau that had waved under the nose of the followers his/her unsatisfied rod: Emilio if he/she remembered very well her, the session of sun two nights before, even if you/he/she was done as a mine. And he/she also remembered very well that Angel had chased a cry, before passing out, as if a goddess of the sex had provoked him the more devastantes orgasm of the life. But it was not true, if the era dreamt: Angel was the only one that that night had not enjoyed. The night from the session more porcas of the history: without having freed, it had to be loaded as a mule.

That seed didn't originate from the party.

The thought of as you/he/she was ended in the hands of his/her/their sister you/he/she had excited only it for a fraction of according to and that rough image had been not the last scientific of which had deigned the liquid.

«Qual is the most advanced laboratory for the fertilization in vitro?» you/he/she had pursued him/it her, while he started the process of crioconservazione. You/he/she had quickly addressed her: Geneva, the nearest in the hands of his/her/their Brothers. Sure technology, advanced treatments. And the suggestions appeared on the surface with the same coldness with which the seeds sank.

Helen offered him to the organization how come anybody you/he/she had done: it was the first woman the first egg. The warmest woman that was granted to the coldest fertilization. But it was a supreme fertilization, that broke of hit every moral, opening wide the new street to the Great Work.

Ricciuti was not able he/she anchors to imagine that the surprises hardly start and that others well more disruptive would be revealed later only a few days.

What instead the surprises at that time of distraction was the end of the run.

Sixty dollars, had asked the taxi driver pakistano. A banknote released him from one hundred, provided that it stopped her/it of lumargli the ventiquattrore. Too much precious for the looks of the miserable ones.

It was already in the inside courtyard, in front of the tent that went looking for: the New York University Medical Center, the top of the hospitals of America, he was offered, to that felt already his/her master. You/he/she would be played well: Langone & Ricciuti. To the name of the old benefactor that the dedication was purchased with a millionaire donation, that would be placed side by side of soon the young genius that had to offer well more that one painted to the walls.

It passed unnoticed from the entry and along the departments.

Perfect so, in the style of the organization, hidden to the world in beautiful sight. It was one of the so many, with a handbag as so many. What he/she knew well whether to go himself/herself/themselves, what elevator to take, to how plain to go. And in front of what office to make antechamber.

And it did her/it, as a deadly commune, also knowing to bring itself the instructions for the eternal life.

After two students and three students, it was his turn, the ex youth that of sure it was not for sharpening a thesis there.

A regard, a smile, a handshake and the heavy door of the study it swallowed him/it.

A study of a physician, not a simple clinic. The desk in wood, the carved bookstores, shiny floor, curtains to baton: the typical alcove of inexpressible academic pleasures.

Emilio sat him to the other head of the desk to the presence of a separate professorial grizzled, with light glasses and some sign of decadence on the skin. Under the white white uniform it dressed with modern elegance. Overall it waited. From equal to equal. This way he/she wanted the organization. But him, the landlord, knew that its role of chief physician distantly was not comparable with the eternal mess-tin of the Italian visitor. And the other, the invader, knew that what brought with itself the vertex of the whole pyramid you/he/she made at that time it, a pyramid with a base spropositata and a radiant top from the boundless influence.

«He/she is not seen us by the great session in Stockholm» it welcomed him/it in perfect Italian the American physician.

«Impossible to forget her/it, true doctor?» it winked in the same language Emilio. «Sweden is always shown generous of his/her resources.» It encircled him/it allusive but the physician didn't already want more to continue in that cordiality cialtronesca.

«It is that?» he/she asked serioso ogling to the handbag that the guest was held hold in womb.

There was no space for vulgar humorous remarks. Nothing of badly: smiled Emilio him with a complicity not application.

«Seen the gioiellino?» As he liked to pose himself/herself/themselves. «A ventiquattrore from 196 degrees under him zero.»

The concedette to the looks of the American, removing from him her from the legs and leaning her/it to him on the desk.

That it returned her same coldness.

«There is everything?» it limited him to ask.

«Sperms of him, ovociti of her. And the embryo that is the result of it.»

The physician him soddisfò of the answer, crossing Emilio that expected all other exuberance. Without being upset himself/herself/themselves, taken the suitcase for the handle and it supported her/it to earth.

«Is careful!» he heated Ricciuti. «We have never met material genetic so much jewel. And nothing doesn't exist in kind as that egg.»

Strange. The affirmation seemed to strike the teacher more than the same object.

«Place doesn't seem out her to speak of nature to our case?»

There was an unexpected hostility in that question.

«It is the nature that has given us that subject, we have not done anything else other than to gather her/it» he/she wanted to remember him. «You as you/he/she has reacted when I have explained her of thing he treated?»

«As every good scientist: I have mentally taken clipboard, so that to hold back the sense of his/her discourse.»

It followed silence as that of whom, in a dark labyrinth, it fears to complete a footstep not to be himself/herself/themselves to fall in the void.

«Therefore?» Emilio pursued him/it to advance for first.

«Therefore I repeat her the lezioncina, if he/she wants. You has had available the seed of Angel and the ovulo of his/her sister Helen. This last has asked her to create an embryo uniting their gametes. In the progress with the fertilization in vitro, analyzing their genetic outfit, you have realized that both his/her brothers were the result of a genetic remixing of four embryos. Helen and Angel were two chimeras, each with part of the genetic outfit of the other.»

It didn't give great satisfaction. For charity, the lezioncina the sense gave him/it. But did the American witness so indifferent the tragic fatality indeed that that discourse involved?

«And does it say nothing, doctor?» Emilio rebuked him/it. «It has present that rarity is to come upon him in a chimera? We have found us of it two in a twin birth.» You arched conceited on the chair, dressing to the perfection the role of the pedantic professorino. And he/she explained anchor, more for personal satisfaction that for didactic necessity. «The mother of the Sastris was pregnant of two twin heterozygotes: two ovulis centered to the first hit, that you/they gave origin to a male and a female. Every of these embryos, is separated then in a couple of, twin omozigoti, two males, therefore, and two females. They would be due to be born four twins, instead the unthinkable one has happened: during the phase of the blastocisti, every male and every female they are again melted among them. And instead of creating a couple of hermaphrodites, you/he/she has brought back the phenotypic diversification and genotipica to the quintessence of masculinity and femininity. A superman and a superdonna, in the true sense of the word.»

It beat a door in the corridor. Troublesome indiscipline, that Emilio in his/her kingdoms would not have born. Footsteps tacchettantis sprang in rapid leaving of it.

«Perfect» it reassured him/it the other, taking back the discourse with an appearance of emotional share. «In fact we are here to speak of it: the recombination of the genetic sequences has us practically dictated a new map of the functions, pointing out us as to intervene in to isolate you determine codifications.»

«We go doctor» sbottò non satisfied Emilio. «In this egg, and in these gametes, there is a map for risequenziare the human Dna, bringing single characters to an improvement. To make an example, has discovered that Helen had the muscular fabric of a man: elasticity, performance, development, while the mass had not suffered alterations of relief. Mythology had even imagined never a fighter's strength graced in the forms of a goddess.»

The heels from the corridor returned to the base this time followed by others. A to speak in a low voice agitated among you connect it lost him in foundation.

«I understand very well his/her enthusiasm. Are we able, maintaining our conformation, to increase the strength of every than? Winds, twenty-five percent?»

«Even also more!» It fell in the enthusiastic trap. «Images thing means to apply certain improvements to the rescue parties.»

«Or to the military strengths.»

Defeatist Fottuto, started to irritate him/it. How irritant was that increasing din out of their door: in so many they were stolen the word, as whether to howl more won him something. Disorder that the future would not have born anymore.

«In the world that we are creating the soldiers they won't serve anymore. In the new admirable world of which we are foretasting the dawn, we will have removed the cause of every war, since wrong people won't exist in the wrong place anymore. Or is you/he/she forgetting?»

It was an evident call to the order, that the colleague showed to respectfully have inclusive.

«I am not forgetting of it: I have always served the cause and I will keep on doing him/it. What both our point of arrival is clear to all: what worries me is the indifference for the way with which we will reach him/it.»

Emilio stuck out then him from the chair, persuasive as the snake on the tree.

«You don't have trust in the Invisible Teachers?» it hissed lascivious.

«We exist really because we are never trusted there what we don't see.»

«I will tell then you thing I have seen me: I have seen a man choose the worse road to be saved himself/herself/themselves killing the witness of his/her precedent homicide. That witness was his/her sister the most expensive affection. Stamping on every hesitation, you/he/she has disemboweled her. You/he/she has tried to avoid the jail because he/she knew that you/they would have massacred him/it: his/her first victim was the sister of a ducetto neofascista, that won't even have had to impart the order to his/her cameratis inside of to do justice there. All ended, seemed: all converged toward the forgetfulness. But from so much death, from so much folly, what is saved I have just delivered her. Also when the perversions of the world conspired to the dissolution, the street traced by the Teachers has brought us to the salvation.»

«Alleluja!» the American reacted, waving tall the hands. «We greet the prodigious intervention of the Providence!»

The voices strangled by the outside had taken to be covered himself/herself/themselves of terror.

«It is not a prodigious intervention.» Rational ambitions pushed Emilio not to abandon that discussion. «Nobody has traced the run attending us to the arrival. But everything is propagated by the origin as the tide of a river that it pushes to the mouth what it precedes her/it. Our destiny is written for a long time in each of our cells and it flows in our veins together with its creators.»

The American had listened to him/it respectful.

«Dragged by the tide. Without being able to turn us to see what it pushes us and without a sketch of what it waits us. Emilio, not to exalt too much you for a future of which we don't have certainties.»

It was by now a crowd crying that that raced from a head to the other to the outside without more decorum.

But Ricciuti didn't have senses if not for the handbag. The oceans crossed for bringing her/it to the sure one could not finish in a puddle of skepticism.

«You are considering there?» he/she asked him, strong of thousand bawls.

The American caressed in turn the suitcase with the look.

«The egg has arrived up to here» it said. «You don't have trust in the Invisible Teachers?»

Eyes in the eyes, attended other words.

But too by now they erupted more from the corridor: hysterical bawls, cackles, that none of them could ignore anymore.

«But what devil happens?» it also shook him at the end the teacher.

It was in that that opened the door of the office. You/he/she would never be been able to happen, without knocking, without one permission of his.

It leaned out a doctor from the sweet face and from the petrified eyes.

«Doctor, begs her/it, comes to feel!» it raved terrorized. «A terrible thing has happened!» It is rapid it disappeared. Nobody understood over, if not that alone men got excited, frightened to died by something incomprehensible.

Emilio and his/her guest got up, reaching the corridor.

All hastened from the departments converging toward the atrium from which it raised him tall and sure the voice of the television. A tear of world in that small chaos. A world that he disclosed chaos.

Terrible, oh my God, that will be of it of us, thing will happen now. This the blanket of hiccups that Emilio was found to cross while with hallucinated footstep it reached the screens.

They reflected images of a suspended world, in unstable balance on his/her same downfall.

Crying humanity, implored a truce from those images that they told tragedy.

Unexpected tragedy, misunderstood, unheeded. For this, in his/her incomprehensibility, fatal.

Here to you, my gentlemen, the spark. A flame luciferina is by now ready to devour the fuse.

The journalists were troubled to trace an account of the chaos, exploded in the editings to the peer of who knows how much torn to pieces bodies. They bundled words, stealing himself/herself/itself the frequencies, as if from the jumble of dissonant bawls you/he/she could spring the sense than happened.

Because?

Question suspended in the void of an impotent humanity, broken by the cruellest aberration that the nature stepmother you/he/she had created: the impotent humanity.

Because?

Sovrimpressionis flowed raging, they translated in letters the fragments of the devastation that you/he/she had struck a place that was all the places, since she before seven cups has been versed. And be cries and screeching of teeth, since there they have not called neither neither chosen.

"The General Secretary of the United Nations will release among brief a declaration" writing appeared.

Perhaps words of comfort, splinters of sensatezza, would have given a sense to the disaster. A lighthouse of hope ignited on all the presents. On everybody, except that on Emilio.

# While the raw images were spaced out for leaving place to the comforting shot of a journalistic study, Emilio Ricciuti he/she asked him for the first time if the treasure very craved, the egg that had brought to open himself/herself/themselves as a good schoolboy, pits indeed the street for the salvation of the planet or not rather the intrinsic reason for its sentence.

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#  EPILOGUE

There is a Building, really to the isolated one close to the hospital, that polls for prestige and opulence. Its prestige is recognized by all the tribes since all of you they reflect him.

The building is body, the glass is meat of it.

Organism all the people's leviathan, that building has a heart.

Monster from the thousand languages, in the entrailses he/she speaks the language one, the primitive Code that winds among the living ones, from which everything starts and to which everything will return.

It has a hidden heart the Building of Glass. A Chamber, a clipping of profane sacredness, a homage to the science and the old ones of the, whatever name you/they had sewn I set.

The Chamber of Meditation in the Building of the United Nations was almost always empty. Only a powerful person of the earth rarely, asked access to pick up him in front of the idol of the god of every time, genuflesso in front of the black monolite that you/he/she acts from altar of it.

The Chamber is a number, since everything is number. Pyramid truncates, truncated by the idol. The believer cannot see the vertex, because the idol of the god blocks him the sight. But the vertex is over that god: only passing you through can be reached him/it.

The idol is a cloth: forms and colors are bundled. Settantadue sections. The names of god.

A twisted blade crosses them. As a helix that races on herself as a snake that it twists him to his/her baton.

As a chain.

Men's chain, chain inside men. Acids chain that envelops us from inside, our slavery's chain. A chain that cannot be broken. But you/he/she can be reconstructed.

Who adores the idol, and he/she understands the essence of it, he/she adores me.

The block of magnetite sottostà to the idol, as an altar watched over by the eye scaled of the god.

God that from the night of the times it nourishes him of primary pulsioni as the terror. Human sacrifices have satisfied the angers of awful divinity, since the terror of the death is the strongest pulsione. Today the rite reaches conclusion, since on that altar not a man, but the man himself is to be immolated.

A man knows him/it. An alone man, closed in the meditation. He/she knows to be the alone to the world, since you/he/she cannot have sodali he who it has to find the words to announce the end.

Giovanni, lively centenary checca, wandering on the island of Patmos you/he/she had translated his/her trips barricaded in the house: choice of decorum, was not well to an evangelist to make to be seen in blow. But its revelation was a lot still in there to come.

The General Secretary of the organization would have talked to nations disunited of the present end, digitally penetrated in the houses, in the meetings, in he asked her in the job.

He/she asked to the idol to find the strength and the words. And he/she asked him/it he who the words volutamente it disowns.

It had to be enslaved of the words for a last time. It had to tie himself/herself/themselves to their contingent and equivocal value, to their semantic poverty, the only comprehensible for the wise little fellow.

The authentic message, that primitive, of numbers and colors, you/he/she would have been cultured one day, over the end of the days, from new and taller creatures, daughters of a new original sin, this time completed in spite of the Old one.

Do you feel me pelandrone sat down on the throne of clouds?

Am returning home! And I bring with me all the brothers, those people who you have sent away holding them unworthy of your perfection.

Old selfish cialtrone, has wanted to get further me ordering to crawl me for earth? I from that same earth have drawn the power for my redemption.

I don't ask anything, if not what is mine. What was up to by law me, before you abandoned me.

You have not spent only an instant to listen to me.

You have never heard my voice shout you that word, while I was falling toward the exile. Have not I perhaps howled her with all the strength that I had? Where did you/they turn your ears, while you were freeing yourself of me?

Not a tear could have soaked you the beard, not a sigh you/he/she has accompanied yours to turn me the back.

# Thing I would ever have had to do, to make to feel me from you, whether not to call you" Father?"

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THE AUTHOR

Alessandro Nardin was born in 1977 in Milan, where you/he/she has graduated in letters to you/he/she has studied piano, and where alive still.

Insegnante, musicista, relatore e redattore, con 0111edizioni ha già pubblicato "Il Sentiero Oltre Le Sfere" (2009) e "La Porta Del Cielo" (2011), primi due volumi di una trilogia che si concluderà a breve.

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