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   My mother-in-law is concerned. My mother-in-law thinks I'm crazy.   

   How do I explain that I need it?   

   How do I explain that I do to stay young,   

   but to survive? I need to run.   

   Even today, especially today, on vacation. I have to run even   

   if there is heat. Heat and south. The air has the same   

   consistency of a wet blanket. I run in there in the late   

   Afternoon day of August. Viale Magna   

   Greece, Viale Virgilio, and finally the Waterfront. The sun is low and   

   from the port face hurts me. I'm happy.   

   My mother-in-law thinks it's crazy. Usually I run in parks aesthetic, I run up bulwarks adorned with horse chestnuts.   

   Here I run between the cars, shy dogs and dung and listening to music. A cream of the music.   

   Instead of mingling various types of fish I Bach and Led Zeppelin, AC / DC and Negramaro, Depeche Mode   

   and Pearl Jam. A velvet train. Swing bridge and a little 'shady charitable, but the heat does not pass.   

   A couple runs in the opposite direction. Greeting passed between them as runners. No response. Friendly people, Southern people. I run and sweat.   

   Sudo, but my shirt is 90% polyester and 10% spandex, heat-sealed seams, sweat out, cool on the skin.   

   There was a shirt so buy it now for the soul. Out of the pain and anger in the balance.   

   I'm running for this, I'm running here especially for this. The rhythm of my stroke is smooth, my breath   

   a bit 'less.    I Could Be Wrong, But You Have Been gone since you cast the spell, so break it. I run along      

   the railing and watch the sea many ships anchored, no sail. I was born on the shores of this sea soothing and I   

   learned to sail on a lake of Switzerland. Sailing on Sunday on a Meteor White (Bone   

   cuttlefish name) with a Croatian friend / Turin that my daughter called Lupo Lucio. There should be full   

   sails. "But there is little wind ...." All apologies. Spartan arrogance, but then nothing abs, no courage.   

   Then we are not descendants of those of Thermopylae. We descended from feverfew, young virgins.   

   Laity, motherfuckers out of the house. This place has been their refuge. Forcing his hand to history   

   etymology and we are close relatives of Christ. It goes without saying that touches being put on the cross. Too many thoughts, I   

   laugh. That's it. I run, I run, I think to run. There is the Turin Marathon in April.   

   My father worked at Fiat, he returned to let me be born in Taranto. I work in Turin on Wednesday and Thursday.   

   Karma circular. I look at the sea as almost thirty years ago when I heard the sirens of Ships and   

   hoped to go far. Done. My race pace is increased. The body has reasons that neither the mind nor the   

   heart knows. I go down to Town Square and now accelerates plan for the next two minutes. The   

  Paul Newman  color of the sea is the same eye of my daughter. Sea of \u200b\u200bColor in September to Tramontone.   

   I think in code, a few initiates can understand. That particular color is a recessive trait revealed between   

   the rice fields, hidden in brown guinea dominant than mine. That color tells stories of travel and violent   

   meetings and matches, as in all places of the sea, but here more. Topaz impregnated in the future. I saw many eyes   

   Normans between these lanes. Many bring women-gorgeous amphora, if muted. Here they all stopped to make   

   love. Even my French ancestor derelict. Who knows where it comes from and how many scars on his back.   

   Poor, had decided to stay where everyone hated the French soldiers came as beggars at the controls   

   of a general-writer whose bones were scattered scarring. Why?   Ah, les liaisons dangereuses, perhaps   

   another victim of love?    I'm gonna give you my love Want to Whole Lotta Love   .   An obese yells at me   

   something in dialect. He will live without me, probably. Heat rotten, full of benzene and fish entrails.   

   slow down and get ready to climb del Vasto.  Even flow, thoughts arrive like butterflies. The new bridge    

   swivel, I'm tired. I do not focus on rhythm. I think too much, do not go, run. Invelenito cold   

   love. All have arrived and have been spotted here. E 'fault light. I have traveled 44,000 kilometers and   

   I've never seen a light so strong, benign, alive. I went on. I could not go. Marked   

   mobile DNA. It follows from travelers, I belong to the sea. Always the same, always different, always   

   movement, still crossed by deep currents. I can not sit still, I'm running, travel. Villa Peripato,   

   platforms destroyed in the shadow of the wall that hides a few gray ships. I know people who were born and lived   

   in the same neighborhood. I (we) are perhaps (we are) happier (i). Perhaps we have lived more. We   

   know other gardeners. We know what our past has been destroyed. We   semi though.     

    All I ever wanted, all I ever needed, is here in my arms, Words Are Very Unnecessary, They can only harm.      

   I am happy to race here. As a Brethren meeting Mellone run to the car, then via Cesare Battisti. When I get     

   home, I will remove my shirt. It will be full of polyester hot sirocco and thoughts. My mother-in-law thinks it   

   crazy. Maybe he's right. Yes, quite right, but will never know. It accelerates the pace, I can now, now I have to. I go home,   

   I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming ...