Trentundì Happy Birthday ... 
E 'finished May. A fortnight is over in May of 2010, the month with the "M" capitalized, the thirty days of the condor. Thirty-one, to be exact, to chase the words on the keys as if they were girls from the short skirt, to spy while under the shadow reflected on the thighs there is something more than a trivial thought.
It 's been fast, this time amid the breezes bearing seasons. I won, I won. I feel like I have climbed Mount Everest with his bare hands without going through the hassle of precautions. I flew many different atmospheres lying belly up, lying on the kite crazy movement, scorched by the suns and rain. I have never fallen below the level of reasonable height, because for the peaks that I needed to touch children's dreams, the ones that are circling kites. I thought that I could not get off, I lost along the way too many uncertainties, the certainties and life is good but do not write anything interesting. There is so much need to stay in the air when you realize that you have taken off. For me, who has been observed from the pen of everything that happens at eye level, back to walk with others is no longer possible and I did not even afraid to go down for a moment if you promise to bring me up here.
I only fear that your eyes hide the emptiness that is attached to the kite string, but that just throw your hands forward and with the experience of skinned knees I know what it means to fall into the abyss of a day of exile and find a night of European Champion.
notice a diminishing desire to celebrate birthdays. The syndrome of white hair is taking shape more in-house over our heads and that I think is a symptom related to the rains of recent days. Here in the north the clouds pass usual, umbrellas open and get wet, you can see a few glimpses of sunshine from November to March. The air stinks, in these streets. The future smells of "Freedom for Italy" (this will arrive shortly) and that there had been so far, faces the same coin that debris after sowing realized that they no longer want to continue to divide the metal valuable to show on the podium. In my small way, I still want to my share of the podium, with people standing next to me, though when I pick up the phone (an archaic expression, in the era of cell phones) for the usual greetings, I realize that I should have less of them than they ever did interested parties to receive them. Not because I do not like to hear them, imagine their faces that giggle at the sound of the hundredth day, talk, but because we are so absorbed by the search for stability that we have to wait for a birthday deal. I had my way, dear friends passed the next year will be meeting in front of a table periodically to tell you that I want to continue to hope, in the enthusiasm to celebrate in front of the child as well as in cake little things I keep in my bag of irregular happiness. Why does nothing to regulate the youth in recent years, including a law that does not belong to those who legislate (never was quite and still less can it be now) and the belief that better to make the kingdom around us are the details of each day, a smile, a girl on the subway, a memory that comes at the right time. Whatever you like this, what little is left of your plunged into a laugh, is the grip to be happy when you feel the weight of a year that has passed. Cling to this, if you see the dark after turning off the candles. 
