Each sound should have its own name, same as people.
I’ve learnt how to walk twice. The first one, maybe I was one, one and a half, I was there with my little hands hanging on the green sofa we had in our first kitchen. My mother looked at me from the chair, waiving her arms. – Come here! Come one! – she repeated. She smiled and she became a child like me. This is why moms are so beautiful, like dads, they come back again.
The second time I learnt how to walk was with you. When I met you.
You used to spend your days at the piano, I was there, looking at you while all of your dreams came out from your thin fingers: during the cold winter muffled cracks flew from the closed windows; during springs and summer, when you opened that gap, they spread clear in the warm air. You never looked at me or paid attention to me, not even to imagine our future together: our wedding, the house, you and me old playing cards and then that horrible year without you before I followed you. I had to base all this feature on my fantasy, not on a minimum hint from you. I lived on those keys and those stems you gently addressed to the strings of your instrument, of the natural extension of your body, of you. I watched like a guardian your own space. I whispered just once in a while cloaked with the external, your notes. I was crazy about you, yes; you didn’t even know I could exist in your resounding limbo.
The fact that I stayed there, maybe despite your will, became at least strange when I was eighteen, very particular, crazy, when I turned twenty, pathetic and pitiful when, as a twenty-five years old boy, I had to decide whether to leave the city or not. I swear to you, even if you wouldn’t believe me, but I assure you: you were one of the reason to stay, even then. The only one regarding my feelings, but I’ve always been a glacial kind. Except for that moment in the afternoon where you, and only you, tried your little melodies.
Of course, now you make fun of me for what I did, but it was cause of a brave pride for me. An inside work lasted days, months, years, forever. A painful game with my hearts that I keep doing today, because I must say: your beauty is dark, and it gives me vertigo.
I needed to get moving, I took my asleep heroism and I decided to ring your bell. – Yes, I rang your bell and you already know it, but I never really told you, with my sounds and my images. – I took so many time to decide, so when I did it was like a separated moment, Archimedes’ hunch: eureka! I was at the doorstep, I seemed under the influence of some drug, my organs in tachycardia, I wasn’t sure about the presence of your relatives in your house, maybe not just yours; someone else? Maybe you were of someone else… These were the thoughtsI was stupidly doing in that moment, after the scream I caused myself; before I made it, it was a quiet bad in which I could have stayed forever. I felt like a fool, I pictured myself whit a glob of sweat in the left side of my aquiline nose, whit my pressure high as the Himalaya and some entangled thoughts like I was a jealous lover on his first time; moreover, a love I’ve imagined for decades with your completely indifference. I must have been THE idiot.
The blind luck that always preceded me gave me a huge gift, and I thank the higher clouds for this. You were alone and you opened the door at me. I exploded, I understood everything from your look with ears, your first words, wave and musical. – You remember clearly what we said, but you didn’t rememberwhen you taught me how to walk again. – You carelessly rubbed my hand, leading to my shoulder and you asked me to go for a walk, because you wanted to feel the rays of the sun on your skin.
I lead you with my hand on your shoulder towards that warm light because you couldn’t see, - I though then, - but I learnt how to walk again and I learnt that love was watching with you, like you and not for you.