The Devil
taciturn people fall into two categories:
1) those that have a lot of interesting things to say but do not speak for confidentiality, or do not do it to relieve their wisdom on important occasions. And when you speak you mind that they do so infrequently.
2) Those who do not speak because they have shit to say, those who, in other words, have an EEG - awake - like a third degree coma. And when they speak, do you mind having the gift of speech. Are still preferable to people who talk too much with the same type of brain scan. I
always been attracted to the taciturn people. By failing to distinguish the nose for a nose, people are often disappointed by the recognition - late, alas - for 2 people. E 'statistically more likely to run into people in the second category, and because you do not see more around, no .. simply because they are more numerous, a whole army of people 2. He
, Robyn, was a taciturn type 1. It was silent when he could charm you in another way: it was enough to play the drums.
Devil of a drummer.
spent a lot of time standing, standing there in that room - there were many who attend the trials - to listen to him .. he played for wire and sign the whole piece "Tank" by Emerson Lake and Palmer, the keyboard was a bit 'little and was not a virtuoso bass player but who cares, they were an acceptable outline for the star.
Roby had his atypical behavior compared to most drummers, usually in difficult passages bend your head and take a look of pain in San Sebastian, he, instead, he was looking straight miles of grinding rhythm like a train on old rails - the ones that made you feel tutuntutun - no smudging and no acceleration until the end of the piece. He looked ahead without focusing on any object, without ever looking at the battery - I always wondered why hitting the center of the snare drums and the other two - And worked on the snare drum with quick, light touch, a kind of hummingbird flight. In
that look empty there was something disturbing: a kind of grimace - light, without committing too much mimic muscles - accompanied by a pair of eyes and a lantern on dark circles, a prominent nose and a clump of hair lion , from which lateral locks like the horns of a ram. I remember that also took the same face as a child - a little hair 'shorter, though - while focused on the game of "The Merry surgeon" or retouched as a physical model of Tuscany with his homemade Das.
We had that day, the grimace, sitting on the steps of the bar pastors with a plaid jacket. It seemed that I had seen.
-Hello-Hello Roby
.- .-
-How are the tests? When you play? -
-Boh-..-
But you feel bad? -
His eyes brightened suddenly and looked me over carefully.
No, no, but ..-
He rose from the pavement, revived.
-.. but we make two steps -
- Okay! - I came over these two words with emphasis, accompanied by a gesture of open hands so solemn bordering on ridiculous.
We headed out to sea.
was a cold autumn day, almost dark, and there was a lot of people around. I workout with the bag - I ran every single day, every single day I was with that bag - shoulder, he with the army-green backpack with the words PEACE and its logo, was long strides and quick and I am constantly being Trudging feet behind him.
But where to? -
-In Piazza Bovio, I want to see if there is a Ah-
Berto ..- ..-
The Berto was a guy always dressed in black - even the leather jacket - with face pale, an honorary member of the Addams family and I were on the ball even though I knew him only by sight.
-It 's your friend? - Yes .-
arrived in this square that insinuates itself into the sea, a kind of road on the rocks and in the end, the tip of the promontory, a lighthouse. Nothing Berto.
We sat on a bench, a sharp wind south-west pulled up eddies of dust, the waves were a mess. I softened the bag on the floor, I looked at Robyn. Then I looked to the sea, he did the same. We came splashing on his face, seemed to be on the bow of a boat.
Roby began to harass a lock of hair .- I tried the Berto .. because I do because of "I" for some time ..-
I tried to give a casual - ..- Ah but I was a bit 'strangled. I did not know what to say, came to mind things like: - How much do you? And do you like? And where to find the money? -. Fortunately, I stood in silence, and soon Roby - who had a great guilty conscience - blurted
- Listen, do not try to do the sermon, eh? - I had the confirmation
that in such circumstances it was better not to preach.
No, really
..- I felt at that moment, to belong to people with type 2, at least for a while ', I mean.
And so we sat in silence.
After what seemed to me finally said: - But I'm glad you have told me. They are not easy things you say, I think
..- No, not easy to say, no .. and anyway I wanted to tell you that this thing here .. the good .. I'm managing that, I could stop if I wanted ..-
-E .. do you want? -
No, not now. In a bit 'of time. Quiet
.- Meanwhile the sea was raging, the waves crashing violently against the rocks and splashing took the size of buckets of water. At that time taken to light the lamp, just above us. I saw that his face, accentuated by intermittent light. I wanted to add something, it would not come at all.
He rose from the bench, walked to a stone, kicked him violently, and his bush of hair began to flutter, took his head for a moment the size of a hang glider. A hang glider still on the ground.
retrace our steps and beginning of the course met the Berto.
Roby said goodbye and headed home. I turned a moment: Berto, smiling, had supported him on the shoulder of Roby. They went back to the sea.
I felt cold, it was pitch dark.
Devil of a drummer, I thought.
And I began to run, as fast as I could.
Roby had his atypical behavior compared to most drummers, usually in difficult passages bend your head and take a look of pain in San Sebastian, he, instead, he was looking straight miles of grinding rhythm like a train on old rails - the ones that made you feel tutuntutun - no smudging and no acceleration until the end of the piece. He looked ahead without focusing on any object, without ever looking at the battery - I always wondered why hitting the center of the snare drums and the other two - And worked on the snare drum with quick, light touch, a kind of hummingbird flight. In
that look empty there was something disturbing: a kind of grimace - light, without committing too much mimic muscles - accompanied by a pair of eyes and a lantern on dark circles, a prominent nose and a clump of hair lion , from which lateral locks like the horns of a ram. I remember that also took the same face as a child - a little hair 'shorter, though - while focused on the game of "The Merry surgeon" or retouched as a physical model of Tuscany with his homemade Das.
We had that day, the grimace, sitting on the steps of the bar pastors with a plaid jacket. It seemed that I had seen.
-Hello-Hello Roby
.- .-
-How are the tests? When you play? -
-Boh-..-
But you feel bad? -
His eyes brightened suddenly and looked me over carefully.
No, no, but ..-
He rose from the pavement, revived.
-.. but we make two steps -
- Okay! - I came over these two words with emphasis, accompanied by a gesture of open hands so solemn bordering on ridiculous.
We headed out to sea.
was a cold autumn day, almost dark, and there was a lot of people around. I workout with the bag - I ran every single day, every single day I was with that bag - shoulder, he with the army-green backpack with the words PEACE and its logo, was long strides and quick and I am constantly being Trudging feet behind him.
But where to? -
-In Piazza Bovio, I want to see if there is a Ah-
Berto ..- ..-
The Berto was a guy always dressed in black - even the leather jacket - with face pale, an honorary member of the Addams family and I were on the ball even though I knew him only by sight.
-It 's your friend? - Yes .-
arrived in this square that insinuates itself into the sea, a kind of road on the rocks and in the end, the tip of the promontory, a lighthouse. Nothing Berto.
We sat on a bench, a sharp wind south-west pulled up eddies of dust, the waves were a mess. I softened the bag on the floor, I looked at Robyn. Then I looked to the sea, he did the same. We came splashing on his face, seemed to be on the bow of a boat.
Roby began to harass a lock of hair .- I tried the Berto .. because I do because of "I" for some time ..-
I tried to give a casual - ..- Ah but I was a bit 'strangled. I did not know what to say, came to mind things like: - How much do you? And do you like? And where to find the money? -. Fortunately, I stood in silence, and soon Roby - who had a great guilty conscience - blurted
- Listen, do not try to do the sermon, eh? - I had the confirmation
that in such circumstances it was better not to preach.
No, really
..- I felt at that moment, to belong to people with type 2, at least for a while ', I mean.
And so we sat in silence.
After what seemed to me finally said: - But I'm glad you have told me. They are not easy things you say, I think
..- No, not easy to say, no .. and anyway I wanted to tell you that this thing here .. the good .. I'm managing that, I could stop if I wanted ..-
-E .. do you want? -
No, not now. In a bit 'of time. Quiet
.- Meanwhile the sea was raging, the waves crashing violently against the rocks and splashing took the size of buckets of water. At that time taken to light the lamp, just above us. I saw that his face, accentuated by intermittent light. I wanted to add something, it would not come at all.
He rose from the bench, walked to a stone, kicked him violently, and his bush of hair began to flutter, took his head for a moment the size of a hang glider. A hang glider still on the ground.
retrace our steps and beginning of the course met the Berto.
Roby said goodbye and headed home. I turned a moment: Berto, smiling, had supported him on the shoulder of Roby. They went back to the sea.
I felt cold, it was pitch dark.
Devil of a drummer, I thought.
And I began to run, as fast as I could.
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