I was little when I saw him for the first time. His skin was dark, not black, a color latte that at certain points c'aveva more coffee and less milk and other more milk than coffee, but not just milk. He was thin, dry, like a taut violin string, even a little fat, and gave the idea of \u200b\u200bhaving a great strength. It was not very high and did not age, the only sign of the passage of the years that had black hair and beard that give way to gray, it becomes increasingly clear. A satisfied grin seemed to smash his face horizontally in two. His wrinkles, oil on canvas work certainly seemed a clever touches of Renaissance artist, unnatural as perfect, and they also had the ability to incorporate all Face the elements in harmony: the eyes with a bas-relief effect and floured acrylic darker below; nose importantly, more polished the rest of the face, lips pulled up the sides, stuff to decorate their cheeks, but If only we tried to hatch a few teeth emanated giallissimi where the language is fun and often bumped into a pass in the middle.
greet everyone. I remember well that was around as a stage actor for that little town in southern Italy, his stage was immense. During the day, via San Francesco, in the afternoon between the Church of the Sacred Heart and football pitches, in the evening in the square, in the vicinity of the central bar. It was there that I met him once at dusk eating sandwiches empty, "the cuts we can serve for the fillings of the day after" they said, but he muttered so careless, he only had the flavor of the sausage.
told that he had arrived by sea, a winter morning, at dawn when the fishermen were already preparing the fish market. Is said to have walked hours and is stopped in the first village that you probably did not like, it is forwarded to Statte. Since then move again. The smell of dry red earth gave him strength and reassured by the thought that the rubbish bins were not stinking of uneaten food and always overflowing. Nobody knew what his real name, and in fact what did it matter? He was Oil! He felt people often call in the local dialect: "Ptroghj" (in some places it is the duty of the scream south and vowels are optional, in fact "or" is not decided and sincere, and "j" is only one way Finally the word so soft). His eyes knew
communicate his moods. When he laughed he did it with taste, with the whole body, leaning forward in the various jerks, which spread to both partners.
He knew many things, countless stories, and had not read the books, and had overheard some of them lived. And if someone was willing to listen, delighted in repeating them, but never the same, every time we added unpublished details.
often helped people in difficulty, he carried heavy bags to older women, was methodically raise children who were crashing the bike because of the potholes on the asphalt, keeping an eye on parked cars in the second row in front of the delicatessen and whether there is a policeman started to whistle.
do not know if he had a wife or children or family or real friends, did not seem to care, he was fine with everyone, but perhaps did not want anyone near.
He liked the red wine, the farmers knew and occasionally give him bottles that poured from time to time in a bottle that he always carried with him. It was probably one of the few objects that he brought with him from his land.
He knew the constellations, each night before going to sleep and watched them seemed to count them, monitor them. He knew perfectly well that time there would be the next day and felt a gust of wind when he licked his finger to the sky and lifting it would say: "It must tramntna, tomorrow the sea is Na sfurtuna" or "vent and the person is punent whistling and singing. " Oil was better than forecast, as far as I know, has never wrong predictions.
As his cardboard and his blankets were considered "ugly" to be politically correct of all, compassionate men decided to give him a car, a black panda species without the right seat, so was put there on the tools and could even sleep in it. Initially did not want to accept it, then slowly got used to the idea and recently also became attached to quell'abitacolo worthy of the name "cas mj.
His greatest passion was rummaging in the garbage "C are so much bone in here," he insisted on repeating "the cristian Gettan all grow old bast ca sol s aggiustan" ridava and life to objects of all kinds. Resurrected irons, chairs, tables, cabinets, refrigerators, televisions, radios and so on and so forth. Sometimes he could sell them, sometimes bartered these items with apple pies and tarts, pasta and Parmesan. Is said to have also found a baby, a dark lint that saved his life by giving it milk with an eyedropper and covering it with clothes cleaner who then took him to church and it was he choose the name was undecided between Unlimited and Happy in the end it was decided to call it Joy, was a girl.
There were days when oil did not show up, he did not want others suspected that he was wrong and was hiding among some trees, near a ruined building that overlooked the railway. He loved the trains, the company did and helped him to dream of faraway places and suitcases full of clothes smelling of lavender, imagine being a manager and travel all dressed up, yes, if you really had to also wanted to be elegant jacket with the twins.
One day I came home late from school and decided to get off a few stops earlier than the one where the bus scarrozza me every day and I started to walk with his head down. I had lost a bracelet and I felt stupid sad. From a distance I saw him waving his bony fingers, and then I went over to greet me. "Hello Oil!" I whispered sadly. "That holds sir? Yes it is ugly cuss bell if I cry, You got nfastidit? T poss comforted? "He said following me for a piece of road. I explained that I had lost the bracelet and assured me that if he found one, I would have given him. Then we sat on a bench cold in the main street of the village and started talking. He told me of his shipwreck and wonder he felt when he realized he was still alive, also told me that his country was estimated and an engineer but he would not return back. All of a sudden I asked, "Petra, but tell me something? What is your name really? "," Ah, ah, ah ... "he smiled at his lips apart," Sir, yes, very curious, m Ptroghj call, yes, Pe-against-lio, and Vu Sapé pcchè? "Surprised by his answer he nodded "Oh, you must pcchè Sapé that the man closed Ricc du monde, I keep everything I ch. I could not believe: my eyes watched a man dressed badly, had nothing for me, incalzai "I called you because you have oil skin darker than ours." Putting his hand on his chest he said "You know, Where is' those that take? Lord, I've got the gold in here, then the rest of the rubbish I have CCOSI, there I Trovat u pe-against-lio. At that point he really seemed like a king. Smiled again and shook hands, I had to rush home to get my: Bracelet I did not care anymore, I just wanted to hug my mother and father, they were my treasure. It was the last time I saw him.
After a bit 'of time I learned that they had found Oil in black panda with the seat lying on the knees and the canteen with his usual smile painted in his face in his hands clutching a small bracelet.
on his tomb reads: "The citizens of Statte have lost their oil."
greet everyone. I remember well that was around as a stage actor for that little town in southern Italy, his stage was immense. During the day, via San Francesco, in the afternoon between the Church of the Sacred Heart and football pitches, in the evening in the square, in the vicinity of the central bar. It was there that I met him once at dusk eating sandwiches empty, "the cuts we can serve for the fillings of the day after" they said, but he muttered so careless, he only had the flavor of the sausage.
told that he had arrived by sea, a winter morning, at dawn when the fishermen were already preparing the fish market. Is said to have walked hours and is stopped in the first village that you probably did not like, it is forwarded to Statte. Since then move again. The smell of dry red earth gave him strength and reassured by the thought that the rubbish bins were not stinking of uneaten food and always overflowing. Nobody knew what his real name, and in fact what did it matter? He was Oil! He felt people often call in the local dialect: "Ptroghj" (in some places it is the duty of the scream south and vowels are optional, in fact "or" is not decided and sincere, and "j" is only one way Finally the word so soft). His eyes knew
communicate his moods. When he laughed he did it with taste, with the whole body, leaning forward in the various jerks, which spread to both partners.
He knew many things, countless stories, and had not read the books, and had overheard some of them lived. And if someone was willing to listen, delighted in repeating them, but never the same, every time we added unpublished details.
often helped people in difficulty, he carried heavy bags to older women, was methodically raise children who were crashing the bike because of the potholes on the asphalt, keeping an eye on parked cars in the second row in front of the delicatessen and whether there is a policeman started to whistle.
do not know if he had a wife or children or family or real friends, did not seem to care, he was fine with everyone, but perhaps did not want anyone near.
He liked the red wine, the farmers knew and occasionally give him bottles that poured from time to time in a bottle that he always carried with him. It was probably one of the few objects that he brought with him from his land.
He knew the constellations, each night before going to sleep and watched them seemed to count them, monitor them. He knew perfectly well that time there would be the next day and felt a gust of wind when he licked his finger to the sky and lifting it would say: "It must tramntna, tomorrow the sea is Na sfurtuna" or "vent and the person is punent whistling and singing. " Oil was better than forecast, as far as I know, has never wrong predictions.
As his cardboard and his blankets were considered "ugly" to be politically correct of all, compassionate men decided to give him a car, a black panda species without the right seat, so was put there on the tools and could even sleep in it. Initially did not want to accept it, then slowly got used to the idea and recently also became attached to quell'abitacolo worthy of the name "cas mj.
His greatest passion was rummaging in the garbage "C are so much bone in here," he insisted on repeating "the cristian Gettan all grow old bast ca sol s aggiustan" ridava and life to objects of all kinds. Resurrected irons, chairs, tables, cabinets, refrigerators, televisions, radios and so on and so forth. Sometimes he could sell them, sometimes bartered these items with apple pies and tarts, pasta and Parmesan. Is said to have also found a baby, a dark lint that saved his life by giving it milk with an eyedropper and covering it with clothes cleaner who then took him to church and it was he choose the name was undecided between Unlimited and Happy in the end it was decided to call it Joy, was a girl.
There were days when oil did not show up, he did not want others suspected that he was wrong and was hiding among some trees, near a ruined building that overlooked the railway. He loved the trains, the company did and helped him to dream of faraway places and suitcases full of clothes smelling of lavender, imagine being a manager and travel all dressed up, yes, if you really had to also wanted to be elegant jacket with the twins.
One day I came home late from school and decided to get off a few stops earlier than the one where the bus scarrozza me every day and I started to walk with his head down. I had lost a bracelet and I felt stupid sad. From a distance I saw him waving his bony fingers, and then I went over to greet me. "Hello Oil!" I whispered sadly. "That holds sir? Yes it is ugly cuss bell if I cry, You got nfastidit? T poss comforted? "He said following me for a piece of road. I explained that I had lost the bracelet and assured me that if he found one, I would have given him. Then we sat on a bench cold in the main street of the village and started talking. He told me of his shipwreck and wonder he felt when he realized he was still alive, also told me that his country was estimated and an engineer but he would not return back. All of a sudden I asked, "Petra, but tell me something? What is your name really? "," Ah, ah, ah ... "he smiled at his lips apart," Sir, yes, very curious, m Ptroghj call, yes, Pe-against-lio, and Vu Sapé pcchè? "Surprised by his answer he nodded "Oh, you must pcchè Sapé that the man closed Ricc du monde, I keep everything I ch. I could not believe: my eyes watched a man dressed badly, had nothing for me, incalzai "I called you because you have oil skin darker than ours." Putting his hand on his chest he said "You know, Where is' those that take? Lord, I've got the gold in here, then the rest of the rubbish I have CCOSI, there I Trovat u pe-against-lio. At that point he really seemed like a king. Smiled again and shook hands, I had to rush home to get my: Bracelet I did not care anymore, I just wanted to hug my mother and father, they were my treasure. It was the last time I saw him.
After a bit 'of time I learned that they had found Oil in black panda with the seat lying on the knees and the canteen with his usual smile painted in his face in his hands clutching a small bracelet.
on his tomb reads: "The citizens of Statte have lost their oil."
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