Swan like a fly in the streets, looking for a parking spaces oppressed by the closed-face, side B, dirty and depressing skyscrapers juxtaposed, in the back of the bright, chaotic trading avenue, Fifth Avenue.
Finding a parking space at the shortest distance from my destination is an essential fact. The nearly fifty degree temperature, the air clammy humidity make it necessary to calculate the right distance to be covered on foot. It is not just a matter of gluing the sweat shirt in the back, soles of rubber asphalt in a minute. They are also small painful piaghette that tend to form on the perineum, nell'afa tropical created between the buttocks and boiled mucous membranes and skin where it is most sensitive. Washing with soap and wipe dry colloidal oatmeal with fresh towels relieve discomfort. I am the malaise that feel like a brick on the sternum, the physical weakness that you limp quickly. The business day is a constant amid an air conditioned environment to another, connected by escalators that descend to hell and then go back. Habib Exchange
were advised, among the myriad of others, due to its proximity, the relative ease of parking in this bustling city, and the favorable exchange rate.
They pay me in Euros, a large part directly to the account, another change in cash on the spot every week. Also applies to the other Italians who work here with me. I got out and Little Breast and zigzagged among other park, trying to reach quickly the gate that opens on Fifth Avenue.
Little Breast is his name operational nik. I met him here. Romano, about to retire, they sent for the prize. Prize for him, obviously the cross for me that I must assist him. It 'a good devil, some blowhard in Roman, but has a generous heart. After many battles, arguing loudly, misunderstandings, I must admit. So, I shared with Little Breast room for a long period hotel and torrid nights at work. The problem is that he was not the slightest skill for the task we had to play as a team. He did not even turn on the PC. English zero. Operating Procedures zero. Situational awareness zero. A fish out of water. In his work probably is a magician, indeed, for sure. But here we are counted and he is a burden than an asset. They would have to send him home with the first flight disponibile.Dura to swallow for an end to his career, he suffered like a dog. He made progress almost miraculous, somehow, in the end, he could work at my laptop, limit the fucked up, send kisses and hugs to the phone, in English cuneiform, a Syrian known whore in a club. I am
the caretaker of Little Breast. I read the restaurant menus, accompanied him to the barber shop, accompanied him everywhere, shopping, translate everything. The handicap of the language is a thick barrier between him and the city. One night I have to also bring in the room, behind his knees in heartfelt prayer, his eye moist lamb, two-accurate, two-hostess, a Turkish Ukraine and the other, a blonde and the other notice, all two other three meters. Little has good taste Breast. I asked him if I had to stay to translate groans and sighs and technical issues relating to the embrace to three, but that requires some discipline. He pushed me out of the room with firm resolve. With toothbrush in hand I got some plan for me good fit from Lillo, who did not make me close my eyes for his snoring. Absolutely outrageous. Snoring Lillo. Breast
Little had arrived in the Middle East, some time before me. I found it nice and discreet, confused, looking for some mention of how some people who are not used to being away from home routine as a married man for thirty years. In fact he was married at least thirty years, his children grown, his wife had just left and, despite the hopes of him, shone from his speeches, unknowingly, the certainty that it would not be returned. The wives put us thirty years to decide, sometimes, then do not come back anymore. The messages that you have sent, speeches, prayers, will be slipped on the habits of him, based on the certainty that she was there, there would always be, and where ever he could go to fifty years played?. From his mother. She would go to his mother. And goodnight to the bucket.
And he was depressed. Cut off from life. To have lived in parallel with the real, the virtual life of marriage, safety habits, the certainty of the familiar little world, without putting into play. When it breaks through this small castle, the world out there is really scary. Rivers without bridges. Roads without signs.
I said "no, look, tanned so you do not go out with me." I told him with affection, although I knew him for a couple days. We climbed back in the dressing room to sift through. He was presented with a lumberjack plaid shirt, jeans trooped into axillary, moccasins on his feet. No, look, that's fine if you come to visit me in my mountains, my land and rural practice. Here you add the ephemeral, strive to feel cool and dynamic. So it becomes cool and dynamic that is what you are, if you want. Within a few months, thanks to frequent for young colleagues, new friends, a renewed sense of self confidence, Little Breast has become unrecognizable. The darling of all. Men in great fashion, pendants in the chest, open shirts custom made by Select Tailor, tailor our Indian counterpart Omar Sharif, jeans broken flip flop, leather tanning to Briatore. Above all, confident, cocky. The daughter came to visit him, dropped out of the taxi was making his hair: "No Dad, you can not be you."
This sleek exterior was added to the layered sediment of education of the past that made him a Gentleman. Hookers separately.
To tell the truth, told me that was not the love of three years. We agreed, unanimously, between colleagues, he needed a sex session with all the trimmings, to shake off sad ghosts and cobwebs. And, being the sex trade, the UAE, so flourishing industry to come after oil, gold and precious stones, failed its understandable hesitation, after a while, Little Breast has started a season of love, even mercenaries, worthy of a King of the Forest.
The beautiful Turkish lady visited him the first time, the very very first time, accompanying to the door, and which had been asked to be especially nice, going away, reported that he was very sweet. That the relationship was over in five minutes. But then he had embraced and caressed her hair up to sleep two. From there we realized soon that he had freed from the chains of a monster. She told me a few months ago, after a long time, having lived there the best experience of his life. The dear friend Daniel, who has seen in person, he said, with a sad streak in her voice, that Little Breast, unfortunately, is somewhat regressed. He regained some of the years of life with which he was laboriously freed. The return to normal life, when you get back from outer space, is never painless.
However I did not like having to sell the room at every turn, look for accommodations elsewhere, to change the linen to Mustafa in doubt, having once found abandoned a thong in my sheets. And then, even without the Little Breast girlfriends, I did not rest easy. He snored. I woke up and saw the moon in the twilight glow silhouetted on the white soft feather bed covers, bed-side, in our king size room. It was the Little Breast ass round that had begun to sleep naked.
Vision distressing. Please put your pants.
Nothing to be done.
So I told the story.
I told at the table after dinner in a relaxed, so that he could be even more subliminal message I was sending.
The story is the story of youth, I was twenty. I was in love with a girl, then I also married and moved to work in Lugano. I worked in Treviso Lugano and I back and forth every weekend. Padua Vicenza Verona Varese Milan Bergamo Lugano Chiasso return. And in between kisses, cuddles, sleepless nights, speeches, make love to spur beaten, sleep will not speak. A grind. So much so that, for every return I promised, resolved, not next week, rest. The good intentions remained strong until Tuesday. Then they began to creep in the flea of \u200b\u200bthe doubt, the worm of desire. The desire to embrace. Friday I left for Lugano by whistling the tires. Once again.
was during one of these returns, it was the end of a hot June, the fact that it happened. I came back destroyed. Accommodation includes arrived that I shared with Vincent about nine o'clock in the evening and maybe even dress up in bed stramazzai or so, leaving the stock market as it stands on the floor. Vincent is a very nice young man, looking round and with the large face that is practically spat John Belushi. We are friends. Back himself from the weekend out, late on Sunday evening. I feel for a moment, turns on the light, he sees me in bed, with a great sense of education, off again immediately. Makes its maneuvers in the dark and takes to his bed, sheets of cotton, open window. Afa the Sile a few feet away, not mitigated at all. I sleep like a log. And then dream Dream
fatigue. I dream that there in the room, another bed, naked, there's my girl. Incredibly, I get up. I laid bare completely. With the swelling of my twenty years irreverent pointing to the ceiling, like a musket Balilla. Circumnavigated my bed direct from my beloved. I feel the smell of leather, he savored the taste already, its hot desire and humid. It 's a beautiful moment. SHEET I raise to lie beside her and hug her. The faint and trembling voice of Enzo break the spell: "What the fuck are you doing?". Enzo fear has assumed the fetal position, has shrunk to almost disappear into the bed. I remember an anguish that I attacked and boarded by the stomach. I tried to understand what was happening. Standing on the night of the room, my figure and that of my penis and unreal monstrous shadow projected on the wall illuminated by the moonlight. I wanted to collapse. But I am sure, quell'erezione immodest, I would have prevented even this output stage unseemly, like an outstretched arm on quicksand.
Enzo is a friend, I offer coffee for twenty years, to buy the silence.
From that story, revealed by the confidence, Little Breast, a man of another era, rooted in tradition and respectful of the legend of the epic and increasingly, it is unquestionably put his shorts.
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