As a child, when I went around with my father, was a tragedy.
walked on foot and he waved to people of all kinds, every five meters. I made him think of Conrad's entry to "The bullfighting," when the presenter passed between the rows of the audience and shook hands with everyone. He did such a thing. He was smiling, chatting, greeting with a loud voice. If the person was beyond the sidewalk was very likely that he would be ringing with the addition of "A caaaapo ." And so on.
The most terrible thing, though, was when I had " Questa è mi figlia! Sabbrì, saluta il signore, diglie qualcosa ". Io contorcevo il collo a più non posso per fare resistenza e alla fine borbottavo sempre qualcosa per significare che secondo me non era effettivamente necessario salutare proprio tutti e tentare di coinvolgermi per forza.
E lui mi rispondeva " Ecccheccazzo e che c'hai paura della gente !?"
E sì, io avevo paura della gente. Di sorridere, di parlare, di scambiare due parole.
E non è passato mica tanto tempo da quando ho smesso di averne paura. Di qualcuno tra l'altro mi pare che sia ragionevole avere ancora paura.
But I learned. I understood what he was doing, what fun we tried. Time goes first, and better. If we include in our time to others, even those unknown. Employees, passers-by. It's not bad smile and chat.
Then when you do you realize how many people are turning to narrow jaws. Sealed in their own time, to make it even worse than it already is, that life in dark and wrinkled.
makes a great racket, my father, but in this he is right.
