Abitudine ? No, piu' precisamente attitudine a saper accettare i soliti sguardi persi in particolari spesso banali, senza emozioni.
Spesso c'era chi gli passava davanti senza nemmeno notarlo.
Cosi' trascorreva il tempo a riflettere nella realta' silenziosa di quell'appartamento al terzo piano: una riproduzione di Matisse, hat and scarf hanging, dried flowers, a newspaper, the lamp, the light green wall.
You're not at home.
last night: your desperate eyes, nose, reddened, broken the locks of your hair, shoulders heaving with sobs, mascara cast, seemed a little sad clown in a suit.
awaits. Meanwhile, tired of everything around him, he realizes that the days are giving space and light in the evening and when there will be 'only darkness', this in all its density 'the pours' him.
So your mirror, not will remain 'that reflect it until your return.
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