I would like to talk about my father. Should I do it, I feel, at least download some of the weight off my shoulders and I will take that port.
Dad left this plane of existence, as is often the name of earthly life on February 19 last year.
In a sudden and painful for those left "side" has closed his experience on this earth.
I would like to talk about it, and I will do, but not tonight, not as "arm" - his life, as he has told it remains a well-thumbed book of which I have a few pages.
I always speak with affection, even when I define a "misfit" in time, a survivor himself and to the century that saw him be born and live a thousand lives as an adventurer.
Adventures in part salgariane (experienced by a comfortable couch), partly real - and often painful, to be eternal loser, defeated before the events of himself: his bulky flavors, bundles that have bent the spirit, making it often quarrelsome ( also here: more to himself than to others).
An awkward presence, and the general "full" until a few days ago he left a great void.
I'll talk to Dad, and do I have to go back a long time, will necessarily retrace his steps to find the answers today that until yesterday he sipped, stuffed (intentionally or not) of baroque completely out of place and truth part - indeed, one can not expect that anyone told his story seen through the eyes of others: his life, his path is a must subjective. A good objective analysis, you can always groped, but not a must.
Dad.
Calabrese to the core, remains pegged to the prehistoric era for us today, devoid of ideals and social support and / or the moral vicissitudes it has experienced.
My father was a dinosaur! But how many things you can learn from dinosaurs, sometimes.
First of all: how to avoid extinction. How to save your skin, whatever the cost. How to survive themselves and an environment not a friend. But it is a
long story, and I still long to tell.
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