The little girl on the rock

The girl on the rock

The girl

I breathe. It's good to feel the pure air of the sea again... I missed that. I missed this sensation, so peculiar but so full of memories to me. This feeling of perfect freedom.

The day I just lived is the kind of day that you try to forgot. And I know no better way to forgot than sitting here. On this hard, sharpened rock, in face of the wild and tormented sea, where the water rages again and again, always coming back to the same point, right under my feet. Some people will find it vain, to spend so many energy, so many power, just to collapse against an enormous rock. I find it beautiful. Deeply beautiful. The sea never gives up: you can wait as long as you want, it will always be hitting the rocks, with all the strength and the majesty of any unequal and hopeless battle.

I like to watch that spectacular show, resting on my rock. The incredible show of nature, of infinite wildness and beauty.

The man

Good coffee. Not too sweet, not too fade. It's becoming really rare to find coffees like that in a simple pub, and I know what I'm talking about.

It's been three years that I didn't visit any town, that I haven't been to any museum, to any cinema. The only thing I see of the beautiful towns I travel to, it's the pub. I take a coffee -black, no milk, no sugar, please. And then I go back to the airport, and wait until my plane is there. You probably wonder why? Well here is your answer: Because of work. Work, work, always work. I've got to go to many cities, many places, to attend conferences and seminars, to present a stupid PowerPoint about some subject nobody cares about... And I can never relax. I can never have fun.

The only distraction I have, it's the pub, and its customers. I like to imagine their life, to wonder where they live, where they work, who they are...