Sinister: places, seasons, something

[Stefano [Steady-State]]

Dear Sinister

	Hope you all are very well.

		I have been staying in my native country, spending some time  in my hometown, in the last few weeks. I always find a bit odd to come back here. At times is feel like nothing has ever changed.  Or will ever change. Places and people looks like the same. To me at least. And I have been away for a while now. 
Sometimes is like nothing is the same, places and people. Almost unrecognisable, and I have not been away that much, after all.
	I guess is only about my perception of things.

I was driving through the county this week end, over the hills, just to waste some times. I’ve got very mixed feelings about driving. I can enjoy it very much, or I can hate it badly. Especially when I crash my car against someone else’s new fashionable one. I’ve bought my own nth-handed from my younger brother. He can drive. And love his car. I guess.  The last time I have been driving without a destination we ended up in Switzerland.  It is not that far as it might sound, indeed is just a few tens of miles from the little town I live, but is I rather nice drive flanking the lake. There was snow on the mountains. I didn’t get anything that far anyway this time. I never feel adventurous  when I drive on my own. But I’ve been listening to my old tape copy of the boy with the arab trap, and felt in a good  company. 
When I got to the top I didn’t see the picture I expected. A few violent storms has brought down a lot of trees.  Where’s the  wood gone? I can see the five-hundred-souls village from there. I parked my car in a field. It was eleven o’ clock when I’ve  heard the bells ring. I’ve waited to hear the mermaids sing as well, but all I caught was the wind’s murmur. 

Since I move to England, my first feeling, while being back in this place, is that I don’t want be able to live here anymore. Might be I just want to run away from my past. The memory of childhood, for the few I have. Or adolescence, admitting I am only an overgrown teenager. And then, in turn, it would mean running away for my present. Which is possibly all I ever done. I often looked at the floor when people talked to me. 
I simply can’t wait to be back in my small room somewhere in north London.   


The weather has been on  rainy mood the last few days, and the sky almost obscured by light grey clouds. Reminds me someway of London, the days I don’t like it. But the sun’s shining today, and I remembered why I like the Autumn. I think are the leaves copper and the bronze, the way the vermilion stain fades into a pale orange, and then yellow. Even the way the rain falls, light and subtle in the woods, and the smell of the earth beneath the pines. The dense fog over the pond lane, and the tickling of the drops over the lake surface. Rainbows. 

And I finally I think I see that I can see, why so many people are blind to the weather, and the spring, and the simplest that could bring them together,

		Your, rather steady
		Stefano 
 
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lent you my favorite 
dictionary
came back with ripped out 
pages
stopped by so uninvited
wasted good silverware on 
you can't trust violence.
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