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Il giardino segreto

Erano le tre del pomeriggio, c’era un bellissimo sole e la spiaggia era meravigliosa. Era uscito presto dal lavoro per potersi godere proprio tutto questo.  Parcheggiò al solito posto, vicino al promontorio, proprio dietro un locale in stile hawaiano. Lo adorava quel posto, era proprio in quel locale che aveva conosciuto sua moglie. Ci andavano spesso insieme e le sere d’estate dopo cena facevano anche il bagno in mare. Il bagno di mezzanotte era un piacere unico, gli dava un senso di libertà senza precedenti.

Quella spiaggia era il suo rifugio, la sua casetta sull’albero. La frequentava fin da quando era piccolo. Ce lo portava suo padre a fare surf, c’era tornato innumerevoli volte con i suoi amici a bere birra dopo il tramonto, c’era andato con la sua prima fidanzatina e un giorno sperava di portarci i suoi figli. […]

Francesco Romoli, Landacape_3
Francesco Romoli, Landacape_3

It was three in the afternoon, there was a beautiful sunshine and the beach looked magnificent. He’d specifically left work early so he could enjoy all this. He parked in the usual spot, next to the promontory, just behind the Hawaiian bar. He loved that place; it was there that he met his wife. They often went there and sometimes, after dinner, on warm summer evenings, they would go for a swim in the sea. A midnight swim gave them boundless pleasure, an unsurmountable feeling of freedom. That beach was his haven, his den. He’d been going to that beach since his childhood. His Dad used to take him there to surf, he’d returned countless times with his friends to drink beers after sunset, he’d taken his first girlfriend there and he hoped he could also one day take his children. He had finished earlier than expected at the office and was now free for the afternoon. (…)

Francesco Romoli
D’ARS year 53/nr 216/winter 2013 (abstract dell’articolo)

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