I'm going to make me a pennica which are now five in the afternoon and have exactly 24 hours we drink and eat like pigs. Corvino has not always been so, or better, has always eaten and drank, danced and exaggerated, laughed and joked. But the croakers were renewed, evolved, transformed from time to time, always for the better, but now the years pass, the walls were thousands of stories to tell and it seems impossible to surpass. Here in this room where I slept last night with Morosona in the past I shared a bed with the likes of Perkovic, the Varano (which he found himself on the floor in the morning), the valiant Arline, the old Nikodejan ... and here I am, half asleep, while my buddies of doom are upstairs and groped to digest svaccati gargantuan lunch Sunday on the couch. Corvino has been able to always be something crazy, especially when I think back to that barbecue in July 2005 which marked an end but also a new beginning. And here we stood, united, but most refugees have fun, whenever we needed it, still do. I shot this hour of sleep, but they are overwhelmed by memories, the faces with names from the bottles of Jaeger's incredible adventures for the choirs Gianfra ... Corvino, once again, I was stunned and kidnapped, three-quarters of an hour by car and you are on a life of Milan, until the last chorus echoing on the stairs, and threw the glass is machines are operating. I smile, if they had told me that one day, far away, here in Corvino I went with Sylvie and her boyfriend, that I have presented, I would have laughed ... more.
we who take refuge, we reinvent, we want to enjoy it every now and then, why the fuck we deserve it too. I would never want to leave this house, this landscape (I have a thousand photos of the hill in front of us, all ugualissime, but I can not help it!), The return trip is often silent, seven years ago was not Corvino Travedona today place is a must.
There is nowhere else to want to go, there's other people you want stare .
0 comments:
Post a Comment