Claudio does not speak anymore! Vile and mean a disease, one day, took away an entire world from the early years of my life has been "my" world. He made a determined and violent ... a tear that has left a void mocking and insulting a strong body that still persists to exist in spite of everything. One thing has not been able to take away, however, the belief fixed in my memory of what is incredibly difficult to tell the world. The one who taught me to bring to life the stories they tell ... even the most minute and small, one day he stopped to tell. For years I've heard, tireless, the multitude of characters and places from his words that come to life. A debt as big as the universe is what I have now against him. Heritage and a world away precious that I knew through his telling, at an age where everything is mixed without the killer habit of asking if everything is real or mere invention. I remember the Sunday morning when he walked the streets and as a slide, his stories reveal what what I saw, at one time was different. A chronicle and a continuing rebound from the past alive and fascinating account of his words and evidence of the tangible world under my eyes. The world has changed since then, I do not know if the better or worse. One thing is certain, that the present world is infinitely smaller, and that certain stories not be given more attention today. I refer to stories of a simple trip by car, where two hundred kilometers to carry on a wardrobe rack in a persistent rain appeared to be still be an enormous task. I do not know, we lost that special flavor that "seasoned" that world.
For this and not only when I leave from my favorite narrator, I find myself softly pronounce them the nickname of one of his characters, and his smile tenderly, gives me the illusion that everything is still here ... more present.
Claudio Hello Dad ... ... ...
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