Mom, my sister and Gaetano had left in the car at a time of Bassano del Grappa
Me and the sister of Gaetano - by bicycle - to cover tens of kilometers and was the first time - Sicilian backward habits - that I was riding in the company of a beautiful blonde twenty-five - relaxed and did not bother to wash the skirt, aided by the wind, and after a while it seemed normal to me that they were so beautiful sun-kissed legs.
So, we were flying agile long flat roads, between rows of trees and farms along with seeding order, boundary fences and farmer friendly pastures motteggianti something that made you laugh my friend.
When we walked in Bassano, architecture was all new to me, perhaps in alpine style at least since the steep roofs and in the background, looming, the majestic massif of Grappa, from snow-capped peaks seemed all very slightly.
converges to the meeting point in the center , In an avenue of young people - perhaps - oaks.
The tragedy had set upon them and bore eloquent memory, photo porcelain set on each log
For some only a few names with a blank oval.
The Germans had hanged a partisan for tree and had demanded that remained suspended for a few days - warning.
While my mother I was crying, shaken well, and I distanziai somewhat distracted me thinking, futilely, to: ... ...: in ten years those portraits would have gone well above banners and more real - and in justice to off ... more ... to consider my 1.72 high and the branches are too low ... ... E.. Hanged them had turned to the mountains. ... Their last look at what they saw .. and their prayers or curses ... ... ... pride or mute?
I went back to the mother continued to cry and head elsewhere, including churches and homes.
then hurried return the next day because his mother would be shared.
Gaetano's sister chose the path back through the wooden bridge of Bassano, really impressive, with coverage of the same material and pouring water down sul'alveo transparent and pebbles from which rose more than fresh air: cold.
We stopped to look on the one hand, leaning on the railing and then the other, compared with the Grappa. No not kissed her
I was a shy Southern.
But perhaps because of it, remains a clear, soft and mysterious past.
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