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Venetian nights

Racconti brevi - Short stories

Venetian nights

By the light of dim lights, one hears the tune of instruments, and short ... when silence has been done big, it will cause the beginning of a symphony of notes, from which delicate flutes and cellos, as they invent magic.
Movements of shadows will dance on Pointe, as were floating in the air, now that eyes and ears alert you leave happy andantes kidnapping of just touching each other, the bodies were almost empty with no weight, rising to the sky and then return down, never, no sound will live it dull, but ... gently down from the clouds to return to touch the ground with their toes, as if they were helped by cherubs invisible to the eyes of the beholder, while the teacher reinforces vigorously, notes that invade the vast space around.
Bows and kisses hand of gallantry, with movements softly calm, whence short rincorron smiles all over the stage that this site, hosted one of the most important, if not the only show in the deep night, bringing in ears, surfing the long dark boats, which ... also quiet, glide under bridges thousand years old, sounds and colors, movements and verses, of what the imagination can make people dream, even the one who stopped fantasizing, shall turn his attention to to trivial goals.
That the work of the night begins, when all is silent round about ...
The dark night, we hear only the sad song of sirens recline, to rest a moment of a long journey, on the landing of old rotting shells, which are barely keeping afloat.
Are two or three, perhaps four or more delight as docile dolphins playing with water spray to spend that time which will see them soon, the way of rebuke large emerald seas, leaving behind though, the glimpse of their fins in which greeting, beat the crest of the sea, hoisting with imagination, foamy figures plunge in a few moments, while the first flare, a prelude of a radiant sun, he is made to meet, illuminating only a narrow and long, to be pursued as it was the safest.
Say ye that ye heard my words, what name would you give to
everything ...?
Which fantasy can blur your thoughts away ...?
There is nothing real, and yet rejoice in imagining these events pretty, hence your smile, if left on the faces of every one of you, where in trying complacent words, you slowly move away, enveloped in your cloak, this magical place, to arrive in time before the rising of the day, to your homes, from which a lantern placed outside the door, waiting for nothing, than to be turned off for a deserved rest, after having shed its flickering light, point you in the way back ....


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