STEPS IN THE SKY ARE RESOUNDING DOWN HERE on the earth

STEPS IN THE SKY  ARE RESOUNDING DOWN HERE ON THE EARTH

Over there on the horizon the red flames of the sun are burning the sky, around the red of the fire the surface of the sky is becoming thinner and thinner, ethereal, evanescent. Big , massive gray clouds, with darker, almost black edges, .are hanging above the red fiery. From under the dark edges of the big clouds the sun flames spring out , spreading  streaks of incandescent yellow, and splashes of a dense, deep pink

“ Ah, how wonderful this sunset “ Tommy says, taking off his thick  glasses. “Don’t you think? We are lucky to be able to enjoy this splendor, we together” “Sure, it is a wonder” I say.

I don’t tell him that this very spectacular, incredible sky , this sky at sunset is also frightening for me, indeed it anguishes me. In this sky, at which Tommy is looking enchanting, much delight, I see in this terribly wonderful sky an announcement….but , more than an announcement, an apparition, an anticipation of the end of the world. And I would like to shout : this sky , the sky above these houses, above these meadows, above these trees, but don’t you see it, don’t you feel that this is the sky that will be at the end of the world? But I don’t say a word.

“ Ah, we are really lucky to be still together after so many years….together watching this enchanting sunset” Tommy says.

“ We are still alive, sure” I admit-

“ Oh, just that? Didn’t we two have a good time together? Aren’t we good together?”

“ Yes, we are fine together” I agree….why not let him believe it?

From the threateningly dark, gloomy edges of a big cloud that has swelled up, getting closer to the burning of the sky, now rays of light , lined up at regular intervals, spring out.They are rays of a light so strong, so concentrated that they seem to be made of metal. They remember the rays of light that come out from clouds in the paintings depicting the assumption in the heaven of the Madonna or other Saints, and also the rays in painting of the Resurrection.

Suddenly an ice wind starts blowing,  making the fallen leaves, lying on the ground, fly, making them whisking in the air- What a scent that of fallen leaves…..you seem to feel time , even to hear time in their discreet rustling, even to smell time in their delicate, yet so clearly perceptible fragrance

“ I think it is going to rain” Tommy says. “ We better go home” Of course, Tommy, as always, is prudent, but sure, he wants to avoid getting wet….Now then, in this time that is all___and always___a talking about the terrible virus which, according what all they_____scientists, politicians, journalists____are keeping on affirming, it , the terrible virus coming from Asia

will end up killing all us who are over sixty. Oh, this, too, in compliance(in perfect line) with the policy of : WIDE TO YOUTH .

A few icy drops , each separately, one at once, fall, or rather hit my head before we can reach home. They are only a few drops of rain, I cannot say I got wet. Yet suddenly, as we come in our house, I feel myself taken, seized by the fear to get sick and dying….THIS VIRUS, which has been raging for months, claiming victims all over  I cannot help but think that it be used deliberately as a weapon, or even a war, to reduce the population of Europe and America, starting to kill old people and those who are no longer young, And I can’t, I can’t stay here waiting to be killed by the terrible virus which came from Asia, more precisely from China.

“ We need to dry off and to have a hot drink” Tommy says, and quickly he boils the water for tea.

I lean with my back against the wall facing the window , and I look around the kitchen: it is wide, spacious and full of light, even at this time, when the sun is setting. Yeah, it is a beautiful kitchen, as our house is a beautiful house….Yet I’m wondering what I am doing here, why I remained here. Do I really want to wait for CHINESE DEATH here?

It is a cold night, yet this thin, prickly air I’m breathing, for me it smells of freedom. Finally I managed to go away, leaving a life which was not mine, a life which was not the one I have chosen, since indeed others had chosen that life for me, others had imposed that life on me.

It was a night like this when I went away____even then the full moon was shining in the sky____,I slipped away silently, without saying goodbye, without saying one word to anyone about my departure. I traveled by train and I traveled on foot. I walked a lot, I walked in the plains, I walked uphill.  It is wonderful to walk on the mountains with clouds settled around their top. It seems to walk towards the sky as you walk uphill on those mountains.

As I ‘m looking ,almost enchanted at my evanescent image in the mirror of water of this lake , in the soft light of the moon, I seem to hear footsteps. I look around without fear. No, I’m not afraid of being attacked. Besides, freedom involves risks. But these footsteps ,that I’m hearing near me, seemed to come from above me. No, not from the mountains that surrounded this valley, and they too are reflected in the mirror of the lake, but even from up there, perhaps from the clouds, perhaps from the sky. They are rhythmic , yet light steps. To me they seem the steps of freedom.

Who knows at what height someone is walking up there in the sky.   Now a sparkle , suddenly appeared, is hopping on in the water of the lake, ripping it a little. Perhaps it is the sound of those footsteps up there in the sky to send this incandescent sparkle, which seems is dancing in the lake water. These sparks of light dancing in the lake also remind me the fluttering of the wings of the little birds when they take the flight, which at the first glance look like butterfly wings.