for days waiting for those words. Alice was locked in the house all day, to study, he said. I saw her nod up and down. Every now and was preparing a coffee, strong as ever liked her, repeating the few gestures with painstaking care needed. He opened the pot, empty the filter, we put in the water bottle. He did all this with eyes half-closed, almost asleep. Then press well and closed the coffee mocha with force, using a cloth. And invariably he lit a cigarette with the gas fire. I watched. I pretended to work. The spied, I tended to his ears in agony in order to decipher the sounds coming from her room, the bathroom, the kitchen. Alice had developed a dowry to the limits of magic, not just put out his cigarette under running tap water, coffee begins to rise. That was also the moment when he called me and asked if I wanted a cup. He always did, knowing that I never drink coffee, except on rare occasions. Then she returned to nod, twenty minutes on the couch flipping through a magazine, ten in the bathroom - sitting on the toilet with a piece of toilet paper in hand, I suppose, half an hour at the desk to emphasize random phrases from books to study. I waited for those words for days, I saw them everywhere, I had read, were the words of a poem learned by heart as a child, and was as still and the fog to the steep hills. The letters were mingled as if by magic, they got up in the air and start dancing in the air, in composing sentences, subject and predicate verb. Alice slept all the time. I put my hand over your eyes to not having read.
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