The train was about to leave the "big station" Termini and passenger systems, each digging and placing their own "niche" that would serve for the duration of their trip to defend themselves from others, or to try to weave a mundane relationship, so vague and tenuous that it would then melted like snow in the sun, in a flash of time, finished the trip and the need to make a solitude.
few come by train to live, not needed, as most of us passes on a bus, hiding behind the headphones of the iPod, or on the pages of a book or behind the screen of the laptop, someone tries to they see others as human, just like him, but few last Mohicans, scattered on the carriages of our country as a dying breed.
The boy, perhaps as early man, about 35, had his beard a bit 'long, not unkempt, but wanted the CIS, it was clear, gave him an attractive appearance, a bit' as an actor in some TV dramas, is brought a trolley like almost all the trains, but on the shoulders (in the case betrayed the object) also had a guitar. While
settles in at an angle to my place, the guitar and he fell to the ground, uttering expletives so low, but evident from his facial expression, picked it up and managed to find a safe place on the rack above his seat.
He sat by the window and disappeared from the scene, for now, returning to the mass of passengers "lined up and covered" the Frecciarossa about to embark on the mad dash to the Roman countryside, burning times and to act quickly to all of us .
Just when the conductor was about to blow the whistle, a woman arrived breathless, he had run, are often quite out of breath, but recovered quickly, placed the bag next to the best guitar, left abandoned on the seat beside the boy and finally calmed down as the train moved slowly, at the start. The train
left Rome, and while the campaign was beginning to pull out of the windows, somehow the two began to talk, perhaps because he read a few score, and she spoke of a daughter who was studying music ... I do not know, but I heard it in passing.
The words reached me anyway, I was careful about what I read, not too badavo them, but I was curious about the scene. I did not know if it was he who was attacking and trying to talk to the gallant, or simply if they were talking and she just tried to calm exchange of words, as happens every day all of us.
I read and felt at one meter distance that the dialogue continued, and felt that he, the boy was very experienced and versed in music and in the show (indeed one that goes on Eurostar with a guitar sound not just to strum: some will perform in concert, or teach, or study at the conservatory ,.... something "serious" will do it for sure!). The woman
Kedar, spoke and seemed at times more concerned or sometimes reserved, but not at all bothered and the scene continued.
He was keeping the bank, explained and talked, now a little louder, stronger, safer, she followed him: she had been kidnapped.
It also added a third passenger, who was in front of the musician and the thing was developed, then, after a half an hour, slowly subsided atomosfera: the rocking cradle of the train thoughts and reflections and often the eyes are closed, after putting the sign in the book that you read, or you adjust the iPod volume to rock the thoughts and then moved from the sleep train. They, too, the woman and the musician, the pace slowed, but he still occasionally spoke, but softly, always in the background, like a background music ..
I have not heard much that was not my business, but I saw a scene unfold, different yet equal to many others, and when the train slowed ahead of the first station when I saw him get up and prepare his things and look for the guitar, I saw change the environment on the stage.
He got up, she smiled, but shy, very reserved and are greeted with quiet sympathy, no other confidence, evidently he had just spoken, was not one of the "usual" men that we always try ...
When was the space between the seats, he gave the final greeting, shook hands, she handed it to him and there was contact, then ... sudden and unexpected, he brought her hand to her mouth, slightly bowed and kissed it!
fast, effective and simple!
I stood open-mouthed, so to speak ...
Then he drew back, he gave her a last goodbye and turned to start at the door with a guitar on his back. She
quiet, watched her, and withdrew his hand as if everything was normal, we went back to reading the book in her lap.
From the whole scene just maybe I was impressed, or, who knows ... maybe not. I smiled to myself. At a time when almost one claims to be ignorant and insulting one another or many others, or to be arrogant because they feel strong and confident, at a time when there is full of arrogance even when discussing trivial, a man, Young 's modern era, with a simple gesture, from another time, overturned, in a fraction of a second atmosphere, throwing the empty the train, but then who knows if a true vacuum, a gesture, a way to do, to be (do not know whether sincere or not, it does not matter!), surely a gesture of respect, a small, trivial and simple, but different.
Today I still see that image in front and I am grateful to that musician that I never see again, that scene in that split second. A gift, like a simple daisy caught in a meadow, always has a value and we carry with us forever.
Life makes a lot of gifts ...
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