Good night

Good night,


I have seen a little bit how you have changed. How even, sometimes, your look seems a new one. How your pupils formerly wandered in the empty space, searching for some reason in any corner. I remember well your smile still metallical. Of your shameless smile after have done some joke, that even gracelessly, ended with someone else's bad mood. Your shoulders, formerly so oscillating between the low and the high, and now it seems even balanced, with common burdens on both sides. Your simple and strong arms. Your short and firm hands, with certain prominent arteries in your skin. Your lanky face coming in perfect harmony with your hazel eyes sparingly shinning at sun light. Your soft and sturdy thorax, all your skin so uniform. A way only yours of talking. In those moments I had a so much admired vision of you, that I can barely describe in words - and though now trying - that brave way of dealing with the other. That other, those others, that could even get closer with hostile words and signs. Like you had a so particular way of frequently pass the palm of your hand in your face, or lightly scratch your nose with the lateral of your right forefinger. Those signs, they were so much at my sight, daily, that I still catch myself doing, repeating them, without wanting it. How those signs - even without wanting to scratch my nose or face - seems like commas in our capers. Making part in our peculiar set of tics and manias.
And there's no reason here to list all other things that I could summon, that I certainly remember so easily and instantaneously, and not saying that I also feel, little by little, each part, and this alleviates me a bit.