Cavalli di vento/Wind Horses

14:32 Buongiorno principessa, oggi il cuore batte troppo velocemente. Credi che arriveremo a salutarci stasera?

14:45 Certo mio amato re.

Mia cara Marilyn,
sono alcuni mesi che non ti scrivo. Sai che non sto bene e ora so che non arriverò alla tua vacanza d’inverno, né al nostro viaggio nei libri antichi, né alle passeggiate dentro il patio. Sto salutando tutti con grande allegria. Un mese fa ho compiuto novanta nove anni!
Tu sei l’unica nipote con la quale è stato bisogno di scrivere, alcuni lamentano la lontananza invece per me sei tanto vicina grazie all’amore che provo nello scrivere, nello scriverti, nel vedere disegni di parole sul foglio, nell’annusare la carta, profumarla, osservare la mia scrittura -cambia con il passare degli anni- e anche la mia mano -diventata sempre più sicura-. Per scrivere i miei muscoli ed i miei gesti si sono sempre mantenuti tonici e giovani. Spero anche di continuare a farlo nel luogo dove sto andando, chissà che le penne e le carte siano ancora più leggere del mio corpo impalpabile. Ti auguro che continui a scrivere, ti manterrà giovane.
Ti saluto felice di non averti qui, altrimenti non avrei potuto scrivere e mi sarei persa un’altra occasione di sentire dentro la mia mano la tua, piccina, che impara dentro le mie ossa i primi segni della frase “Abuela querida…” (Cara nonna… ).
Non mi rispondere alla vecchia casa. Ma se desideri salutarmi puoi farlo attraverso il fuoco delle lettere: scrivi e poi brucia la lettera. La nuvola di fumo raggiungerà la mia nuova casa.

Con amore.
Tu abuela Juana

21:32 Allora principessa? Arrivi?

22:02 Sto arrivando, credi che mi faranno passare?

22:15 Maria mi dispiace, è partito, sì ti lasceranno passare, ho avvertito il custode. Andrea.

Salgo le scale dell’ospedale sentendo le sue mani sui miei fianchi e sulla mia schiena, come fosse dietro di me, a spingermi sul nostro ultimo letto. La forza senza lacrime mi arriva dall’insegnamento dello shambala: “Con il lasciar andare scoprite una riserva di energia propria, che è sempre a vostra disposizione a prescindere dalle circostanze. In realtà non proviene da nulla ma c’è sempre. E’ l’energia della bontà basilare. Quest’energia propria viene chiamata ‘cavallo di vento’ ”.

Roma, albe fredde e pomeriggi caldi che fanno sorridere con tenerezza. 2010 – Maria A. Listur

Wind Horses

14:32 Good morning princess, today my heart beat is too fast. You think we will be able to see each other tonight?

14:45 Of course my beloved king.

My dear Marilyn,
I haven’t written to you for some months. You know that I am not well and now I know that I will not make it for your winter holidays, neither to our trip in the antiques books, nor to the stroll in the patio. I am greeting everybody with a lot of joy. A month ago I reached ninety-nine years of age!
You are the only nephew with whom it’s been necessary to write, some complains for the distance with you instead you are so close thanks to the love that I feel in writing, to you, in seeing drawings of words on the sheet, in smelling the paper, scenting it, observing my writing -it changes with the advancing of the years- and even my hand -has become more confident-. My muscles and my gestures have always been tonic and young to write. I hope I will keep doing it in the place where I am going, who knows if the pens and the papers would be more light than my impalpable body. I wish you keep on writing, it will keep you young.
I greet you happy for not having you here, otherwise I would have not be able to write to you and I would have lost another occasion of feeling your hand in my hand, so small, that learns inside my bones the first gestures of the phrase “Abuela querida…” ( Dear grandma…).
Don’t reply to me to the old house. But if you wish to greet me you can do it through the fire of the letters: write and then burn the letter. The smoke cloud will reach my new home.

With love.
Yours abuela Juana

21:32 So my princess? Will you come?

22:05 I am coming, do you think they will let me pass?

22:15 Maria sorry, he left, yes the will let you pass, I’ve warned the custodian. Andrea

I climbed up the stairs of the hospital feeling his hands on my hips and on my back, as if he was behind me, pushing me on our last bed. The strength without tears arrived from the teaching of shambala: “ letting go you will find a new spare of energy of yours, which is always at your service no matter the circumstances. In reality it doesn’t come from nowhere but it is always there. It is the energy with the basic goodness. This own energy it is called ‘wind horse’ ”.

Rome, cold dawns and hot afternoons that makes smile with tenderness. 2010 – Maria A. Listur

Wind Horses

14:32 Good morning princess, today my heart beat is too fast. You think we will be able to see each other tonight?

14:45 Of course my beloved king.

My dear Marilyn,
I haven’t written to you for some months. You know that I am not well and now I know that I will not make it for your winter holidays, neither to our trip in the antiques books, nor to the stroll in the patio. I am greeting everybody with a lot of joy. A month ago I reached ninety-nine years of age!
You are the only nephew with whom it’s been necessary to write, some complains for the distance with you instead you are so close thanks to the love that I feel in writing, to you, in seeing drawings of words on the sheet, in smelling the paper, scenting it, observing my writing -it changes with the advancing of the years- and even my hand -has become more confident-. My muscles and my gestures have always been tonic and young to write. I hope I will keep doing it in the place where I am going, who knows if the pens and the papers would be more light than my impalpable body. I wish you keep on writing, it will keep you young.
I greet you happy for not having you here, otherwise I would have not be able to write to you and I would have lost another occasion of feeling your hand in my hand, so small, that learns inside my bones the first gestures of the phrase “Abuela querida…” ( Dear grandma…).
Don’t reply to me to the old house. But if you wish to greet me you can do it through the fire of the letters: write and then burn the letter. The smoke cloud will reach my new home.

With love.
Yours abuela Juana

21:32 So my princess? Will you come?

22:05 I am coming, do you think they will let me pass?

22:15 Maria sorry, he left, yes the will let you pass, I’ve warned the custodian. Andrea

I climbed up the stairs of the hospital feeling his hands on my hips and on my back, as if he was behind me, pushing me on our last bed. The strength without tears arrived from the teaching of shambala: “ letting go you will find a new spare of energy of yours, which is always at your service no matter the circumstances. In reality it doesn’t come from nowhere but it is always there. It is the energy with the basic goodness. This own energy it is called ‘wind horse’ ”.

Rome, cold dawns and hot afternoons that makes smile with tenderness. 2010 – Maria A. Listur

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