My grandpa reading me a story about two dogs, their adventures and friendship.
My other grandpa offering me a sip of beer while watching Summer football games on tv.
Hours at the library with The Peanuts before tea time, my addiction to earl grey.
My brother, sleep-walk across a closed door, broken glass everywhere. Unharmed kid.
The time Loli and I pretended we were filthy rich and we threw all the Monopoly’s money from the top of the stairs on our mothers’ heads…they weren’t particularly impressed.
The time we burnt all my art paintings because school was over, boredom kicked and the prof was a bitch; this when outside it was August 15th and 40 degrees.
How our bodies could perfectly slot in one, calling it ‘the tetris move’.
The first time at the stadium, a night game in the cold.
The smell of moss, of wood, of Dolomites.
Eating red berries as if they were oxygen to breathe.
The night Ale and I were the only two awake in town…a broadcast on local tv. The drinking at the church cross while watching the valley. J&B and booby hills, sis.
The hours at the gym playing volleyball. Every mistake or laugh 10 laps to run, 30 crunches. Mistakes every minute or so. A bloody tonic body though.
Kissing in the Summer rain in a street, storm of feelings during this personal movie.
Tape recorders, walkmans, cd-players, mp3s. Life before Ipod.
Sundays spent to listen to music and create it. Bonding in a garage.
All the things I forgot. All the things I pretend to forget. All the things I don’t want to write about.
This was my neighbourhood for many years: Arcade Fire’s neighborhood #1 (Tunnel) gets very close to explain it.