Speaking of Paris
The following Monday Dafne looked in Milan make more and more himself/herself/themselves small, from the porthole of his/her airplane. The breast hurt her, an acute evil: Bob was not never her missed as at that time. In that precise instant, he bewared the sky of the window of his/her room, crying as a child. It was June 19 th 2006.
Dafne was amazed from aunt it Gilds. It was a minute woman of over fifty years, apparently fragile in the aspect but with a particular verve. He/she lived in an elegant trilocale in the heart of Montparnasse. It had been being widow for ten years and you/he/she had not had children. The lost possession the great love of its life, had dried up her. Then you/he/she had tried to give a turn to his/her existence, imposing himself/herself/itself to react. This way in 2003 you/he/she had founded a small female association, of which it was chairwoman, that dealt him with art, in all the forms of possible expression. Aunt and nephew immediately entered good tuning. The girl had never had the opportunity of knowing relatives from mother and those from father they were by now a distant memory. That woman seemed all of this that his/her sister or his/her mother, were not, and you/he/she would never have been. The fancy and the art from a part and a castrante, cold rationality from the other. Dafne labored indeed to believe that that woman was his/her relative, and you/he/she was embittered for not having her/it known before.
Dafne spoke from immediately to it Gilds some relationship extremely conflittuale with his/her/their mother. With highest amazement, his/her aunt helped him to understand that the cold character of the greatest sister was due to big problem list lived by girl, that was always estate for itself for pride or humiliation. The grandparent of Dafne had been impossible parents. His/her father had istaurato a real regime of terror. It gilds you/he/she had had the strength to rebel running to France to alone twenty-two years. His/her sister had not forgiven him/it to him. Contrarily you/he/she had preferred to suffer that situation up to trentatré years, when he/she married the father of Dafne under consent of the demanding head of the family. The stories of his/her/their aunt were illuminating indeed. Dafne him made account than few knew his/her mother.
Once in France, it Gilds you/he/she was gotten married; her husband and she didn't have a lira. They understood that the destiny would have been generous only if you/they had had the strength and the determination to build him/it to him. This way they succeeded in creating him from zero a discreet position; the apartment in which Dafne was found was the tangible demonstration of it.
Having worked for years as it drives, it Gilds it knew whatever detail of that city. Paris was the most extraordinary place that Dafne had ever seen. During the years of the high school you/he/she had visited Rome, Praga and Barcellona, that of certain you/they had fascinated her. But Paris was the city of the artists for excellence. In the turn of little time, after the first customary visits with his/her/their aunt, Dafne purchased good ability to stir in independent way. It had good memoirs of French, and it took advantage to improve him/it of it.
An evening, they walked along the Seine. The summer breeze gave truce to that that had been a very sultry day. While Dafne observed that idyllic panorama, his/her aunt asked her a sudden question, how much unexpected.
«Beauty, would go then now you to tell me thing it upsets yourself so much?»
Dafne remained spiazzata from that question. Taken time pretending not to have understood.
«In that sense aunt?»
«In the sense of the heart I imagine.» he/she answered it Gilds, with the whole endless wisdom of the houses.
Dafne lowered the look suffering, but pleased that you/he/she could finally speak of what it tormented her/it. His/her aunt inspired her a lot of trust, and you/he/she had a great spirit of observation.
«Be' dear, it has been being for three weeks that you fumble with that your jail cell, that however has not rung never. Do I deduce then that you coop waiting with anxiety that someone does him/it play, no?»
Smiled Dafne; it was very stricken from the attention that his/her aunt, hardly known, you/he/she was already reserving her. That evening was long. Dafne told for thread and for sign his/her history, from the phase of the falling in love to the most painful details of the relationship with Bob. It gilds you/he/she had realized that his/her niece was not to the takings with any crush, but that story went well over its imagination. Word had not uttered for the whole time. Only some sign of caress, when the eyes of Dafne were made shiny. At the end of the long story, the girl concluded with a question, that the expression of a defenseless baby painted her.
«Tell me aunt, have I done to come here well, true?»
Gild he/she embraced him drying her tears.
«Dafne, nobody can give you this answer. Unless you have done out of spite him, I can tell only you that to mine discreet opinion has been the correct choice. Rather you have been a holy to remain after all these intrigues and these endless revelations there. The would be run away very before. Nobody has dragged you on that flight and nobody ties here yourself. But now that there six, you could remain us up to that your heart won't be ready.»
«But my heart is him/it aunt! I love him/it, I ever love not it as. On this I don't have doubts. He is still my only love. And I know what time you/he/she has told me the whole truth. It is alone that I don't succeed in forgetting to overcome the past. I am afraid that starts over hurting me, that with the time everything can return as before. But then I think about his/her look, that look of the last evening when you/he/she has greeted me. Fire is branded to in my mind. and it misses me as the air, aunt» it complained about Dafne.
«I know you from little Dafne; but as it is often said, blood is not water. For this I should try disgust for Roberto, or as you call him/it you, Bob. But from what you have transmitted me, I understand that he is the first one to hate himself. And it now has to learn to love him. And your grudge would not have helped him/it.»
«But my love perhaps yes.» Dafne responded with doubt.
«You/he/she can be true also this, but he/she thinks about the fact that you won't be forever away. Take yourself your time, if you believe that can help to take back in hand your life. He will understand. If it loves yourself it will try everything to change indeed, and it will wait, even if it deals with months. You after all aspects from years. But only you can decide qual it is the most correct thing.»
It gilds it seemed to have the most reassuring answers of the world. Despite the whole confusion, that trip had been a gust of fresh air for both.