part 3 and final
I had my ritual. I was happy to have it. The coffe that I used to drink at home was a war with the boredoom, the coffe that I drank there was different, special, something was going on in the usual working day. I don't say that it was not boring, but I used to find myself there between those walls and even if I was silent I felt like I was speaking. When I didn't speak, I was communicating, interacting with the walls, people, smoke, rhytm and base. I couldn't do it in any other place but there. Sometimes I would leave the house alone, go out, and stand by the wall. It happened that I rejected all the small talk. I allowed myself to make nonsense movements with my hands, led by the music. sometimes I was ashamed, sometimes I din't care, sometimes I cried and sometimes I laughed. Sometimes I would follow somebody with a malicious look, I used to push away people that I didn't like. I used to make loud commentaries, I had pride. Sometimes that pride was astonishingly big, sometimes I didn't have it at all. I did whatever came into my mind. I learned to speak smart, vicious, ironic, funny, sincere. I really learned a lot.
Now I have that problem that wherhever I go I look for tht place. I cannot find it anywhere. It is gone, it is not even in the place where it was back in my hometown. The place is still run, it still has people in there but I don't go there anymore, not too often. It's not my place anymore. I cannot do the things that I could do then now. Nothing is the same anymore. Nobody is the same anymore. I am not the same anymore.
I started to grow, I will never be the way I used to. I will always come back there, I will feel strange, I will think about what I was and who the hell I was supposed to be.....
I will come back
THE END:)
this thing was written in 1999
and really....everything is changed since then also:)
I guess changed mostly for better and I am very glad it is so
