smoked in silence, Julian was stunned and embarrassed more than Liberato did not dare say anything about the subject or on anything else: Lucio had taken the words. Liberato
felt the urge to feed on those words now absent, as the sun began to decline and air-cooled housing, found an excuse to leave the cabin in search of his book.
It was easy to accommodate to the darkness and move without bumping into the lamp and lit it for a moment, he was mesmerized with the vibrant red that won the room behind him, trembling giant, reflected his shadow. He fumbled the book at the bottom of your bag, and when he finally had his hands he felt his body recovered a hitherto unnoticed warmth. He lay on the bed of Lucio and opened the volume at random. Before the letters and phrases, the meaning of the phrase came into his soul the smell of the printed page, and other scent that carried the book, but that had nothing to do with the ink or paper. He breathed deeply and was happy. Liberato
really believed that, by leaving Italy, it had cut all cables linking it with the past. It said a free man, and free people should reject any obstacles that might condition the present or the future. As well fancied himself a farmer of consistency, and men should act on consistent with what they said and thought, refused to include in your luggage nothing to tie to the past and the people who left. Had set his backpack with the essentials: a pair of shirts and socks, many middle (he had read somewhere that the foot was the place chosen by the cold to torment men.) And a book, at least one, one for having to read and no more than a non-overloaded, one that should take care of the salt and moisture, because it was not his, but his mother and one day I must return it in the conditions in which they took, so he had to wrap him in a shirt maybe a tramp, the white, for example, that his father had given him.
He ran the pages he held with his right hand, and let providence, fate, fortune, or a guardian angel, stopping him on the page that would read. Sensed that this was not. Without even glancing at the page, repeat the operation won at least four times. If the limit is reached the soul did not feel certain that some of those listed was his desire of words needed, would keep the book without reading it. He did play, just to break the routine of taking a book and read because that was what should be done with the books that were taken, and so had, of course, want to read on any page, would be bound the consistency and return the volume to the bag at least until the next day.
was on the third attempt when they came in, drunk, Lucio and T. and surprised him with the copy in his hands.
-Ja, what about this? "Said Giovanni. Snatched it and started looking at it backwards and forwards, then threw him to the floor with a sneer: "Real men do not waste time with these things, real men work dealing with sore hands and break their backs .
Liberato, upon hearing the ruling, surreptitiously blushed, feeling on the skin and stomach, blood and burning eyes, he had no arguments to refute it, because those were the words of his father and father, unable to cope with reasons (for the father, in turn, was unable not to understand them, but listen) contradicted him leaving, "and where to go, in the shadow of a slow boat and limited now that he heard his father? What if Giovanni and his father had been right?
"Never mind him," said Antonio, lifting the book (that voice Liberato ally praised as having been caused by a fire burning bush that did not burn) - that is an ignorant bum.
-Ja, ignorant, and if you knew more than just write your name.
Antonio replied by throwing the book at the head and an insult to Liberato is no longer seemed too divine. Giovanni stepped backwards to avoid it and the book bounced off the chest of Lucio, with the blow the tops of the leaves were separated. Pike reached down, took body of pages, to terminate the case, opened the hatch and threw it out, and suddenly there was silence deep, almost unattainable, watch the leaves falling from the deck ... Then the man looked at Liberato, the boy did not flinch, Lucius left the bed and climbed to yours, wishing it was he who had fallen into the sea. Lucio
hair sat with her hands, wiping at the same time, the sweat that had formed on his forehead. Tried to issue any apology, but his voice marred by alcohol could barely any body in the subsequent sickness that carried ideas from the second cup. "It's
However, Lucio, do not say anything, no need, "said the boy, resigned," one says anything, please.
men obeyed him, recognizing debtors. Antonio climbed into her bed and lay dress, huddling against the wall in the position of a fetus, after they heard the snoring interspersed with those who opened nightly sleep and then the room, disappeared.
now buried by the incessant noise of water laced lullaby and Fioravanti engines, nothing was heard, even breaths.
end In the silence, the shimmering light made it even more sinister forms of the shadows, Giovanni extinguished the lamp. In the dark, Liberato finally closed his eyes, looking within themselves a remnant of the recent light, found a slight shade of red, and attentive to him, determined not to lose even though he knew that irreversibly disappear, he wondered: What will this trip if Giovanni is right?
not want to hear the answers that, after all, would be temporary (always were), down from the bunk and went for the cover of the book, soon found them, aided by the faint moonlight, now visible; wrapped them in white shirt that was left on the table, and kept at the bottom of the bag, below the middle, where previously they had been along with pages, content, names and adorned with the coveted vanity tops were only able to hold, the lone back, stripped of its rationale, and yet there, in between and shirts, regained a sense, one that went beyond that to be enviable vanity tops (Liberato had left Italy believing ...); returned to the bed, leaned back resting her head on her hands, closed his eyes and recited, whispering the verses would have liked that fate had given him:
"And you started on the road and pulls the sword from its sheath:
now Aeneas precise value and now a strong soul."
The words that are said not only comforted the spirit, but also gave back some desire to reconcile with all the bad things he had experienced and seen in their small world, because even that he had used to reach that cabin, on that night, along with those people that he was forced to turn to those verses that expected by chance, at that moment it was like an explosion of certainty and self-confidence in their decisions. He imagined the night sky equal to one night happily saved, and felt that the only reason, just for that moment I felt it was worth living, was worth living and worth pursuing vivo.
suddenly felt the bubble disappeared, someone decided to looked at him without speaking. It came, faintly, the breath breathing fortified visitor. Without opening his eyes, and not knowing which of the three was going, asked: "What do you
. ...-
-Liber
whispered presence. "What do you
.
- Think you could teach me to read? Liberato
opened his eyes and saw the shadow of the face Giovanni, silhouetted at the edge of the litter could not distinguish in their eyes, but guessed a tear in his voice, the feeling anyway of happiness will still reverberated in the soul to go with that pain drunk. He responded with an unnecessary question, just reaction.
- Did not you read?
"No, do you think you could learn?
"Maybe," said the boy, now more attentive to the request of Giovanni, but need a book, and books are not things of man, thou hast said.
Giovanni made a motion and there was a slight noise like a silky touch surfaces, Liberato received the new form silhouetted in front of Giovanni and the aroma of the printed page that accompanied it was a smell of wet leaves and yellow, dust and time attached.
- Where did you get? "He said, holding his anxiety.
"I brought with me is a gift from my wife. Liberato
felt it, weighed it, measured the thickness of the tome, read with the touch of the raised lettering cover and spine:
"It's a Bible.
"Yes," he said, surprised, Giovanni ", do you think you could teach me?
"Maybe I can teach you. Maybe.
"I can not read a word, do you think ...?
-The letters of this book are very small, as a contract, for which he never read.
- You think you could ...?
"Maybe, Giovanni, maybe.
"In America people can read, it says Francisco.
- Who?
"The English, says there will make good money by installing a printer, is widely read in America, where all people can read. I offered to work with him.
"But you said ...
- Liberato. Think you could learn? He says he has a few books with ideas, good ideas. And I believe him, someone who invites a stranger Drinking is legit. Do you think could? The book is good, I read my Mary still has her smell. Do you think you could?
"Maybe, if tomorrow when you sober up, thinking the same thing is likely.
"Boy, if necessary, return to drinking.
"So yes, Giovanni, maybe you can learn.
"Thank you, Liberato, a good boy. Forgive me for the book. Can you forgive me? Good boy. Giovanni
retreated to his bunk and lay down. Liberato closed his eyes and recited, recovering part of recent happiness, knowing I was happy because it was his destiny and obeyed to his heart:
"... Now in a long line already seem
choose a ground or look down the chosen:
like playing in those with wings return
strident and walk in a circle the sky and release their singing,
not otherwise your ships and your young
or have already entered or seek his mouth port under full sail.
So goes, and where the road takes you, direct your steps. "
Chapter Eight
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