confused dreams, gritted his teeth and brain wanders, he runs away, crosses the barriers of the physical body to survive and when at 5:50 in the morning part the alarm on my iPhone, the music of "House of the Rising Sun" seem to come directly from that world where we go crazy and padding to take refuge during the night.
Then slowly those smells, those colors, those races on the run fake and those emotions give way to reality '.
reach out and turn off the alarm. Inside my apartment Warri silence falls over ' absolute. You can only hear the noise, the air conditioner that takes me like a parasite insistent until the cabinet, where all my shirts are perfectly pressed and hung in a row, in a perfectly unnatural beginning to hate.
choose one and casually when I get to the bathroom for daily ablutions morning I'm just finishing the last button cuffs. I look in the mirror, I have a long beard and tired eyes. E 'for too many days working continuously 12 hours a day, waking up every morning at 5:50 and slept on average 6 hours per night. I pity her a bit ', just long enough' cause the brain to keep me hanging on the succeeding overwhelmingly reality ', with the mechanism of hope and imagination. The mind flies to the people for whom life is worth living and suffering, those with whom I shared and still share a thousand emotions and adventures, those who know me really, those who know who they are and what they carry inside.
I look at my watch and I realize that it 's time to leave. At 6 in the party bus with the armed escort that brings us to the offices, about 3 km away from the camp where we sleep and eat. No one expects here in Africa and while I open the door to exit, comes the first slap of the day. A stifling heat takes you by the throat, humidity 'and' that the shirt will not stick instantly to body ... and only 6 in the morning. E ' still night and the street lights along the avenue, surrounded by a cloud of flies, moths, mosquitoes, make the short journey that separates me from the bus, in a continuation of the dreams that accompanied a few minutes ago my sleep. The weight of the laptop that I carry in my shoulder is processed by the brain as the metaphorical weight of the day's pressures and incessant work waiting for me. A red-headed lizard
me cross the street in a hysterical flight and a concert of frogs, tropical, colorful birds and hawks, are the contours of the wilderness that surrounds the field.
Along the way to the bus starts to feel a certain electricity 'in the air. The "world Nigeria" wakes up lazily and several houses are starting to come out like ants direct colleagues to the anthill. In seconds, the migration is over and the buses, now at full load, set off for office. An off-road before us with the armed escort all'nterno behind us and also the guardian angels watching with wary eyes that all is well.
Along the way, no one has the strength to speak, you look out the window, speechless world so that 'hard and unforgiving as to seem a movie in high definition and you can not' fail to ask questions. The night has not yet given way to light, but as the bus crosses a bridge over the river at full speed ', the sky begins to give a shade of blue that anticipated the arrival of the Sun God, the sole and undisputed ruler of all of these lands and nobody.
the sides of the road and 'a series of ramshackle clusters immersed in a setting powder, burned and abandoned cars, makeshift roadside kiosks selling anything from fruit, cans of petrol stolen from the wells, meat wrapped in newspaper, straining the ice.
It's called survival, but the real ... ... or what you eat or die!
0 comments:
Post a Comment