Pellicine
Ci sia acqua per tutti quelli che come te vanno per deserti La Terra, L’Emilia, la Luna, Le Luci della Centrale Elettrica
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Ci sia acqua per tutti quelli che come te vanno per deserti La Terra, L’Emilia, la Luna, Le Luci della Centrale Elettrica
L’alba sulla discarica non incantava più Liberio. Da quasi dieci anni lui e Brando rastrellavano rifiuti con l’escavatore fino a quando il cielo si faceva violaceo.
Settanta nemmeno, sessantanove. Candeline sciolte. Piero grida auguri nonno, io sorrido.
Sentivo ancora le vangate franare sulla bara di mio padre, pesanti più delle sue urla, dei passi quando entrava in casa, e la sua tosse, e un puzzo di sudore e trucioli di legno.