Hello people!
Today I place this story of the most Kafkaesque of Italian writers (though I read that he hated be compared to Kafka, who knows why? Or maybe you understand very well ...).
In any case, I hope you like it as it pleased me!
Happy late summer to ... And
PS one last thing: with Enigma and Fighter we are organizing a meeting (apparently in Milan, but is not yet 100% sure) for Sunday September 19 . An excellent opportunity to meet (and in some cases review) so many people I met here on blogger!
On our blog (mine and that of Eni and Fighter) will be soon the details of this appointment that can not miss!
A DROP (D. Buzzati)
A drop of water goes up the steps of the staircase. you feel it? lying in the dark, listening to his mysterious journey. How does it do? Jumping? Tick, tick can be heard intermittently. Then the drop will stop and perhaps for the remainder of the night There is no longer alive. However salt. From step to step is up, unlike other drops that fall perpendicularly into compliance with the law of gravity, and eventually make a little pop, well known throughout the world. This not: gradually rises along the stairwell letter E the immense tenement. Not that we, adults, refined, highly sensitive, to report it. But a servant of the first floor, dingy little ignorant creature.
noticed it one evening, late, when everyone had gone to sleep. After a while, 'he could not restrain himself, got out of bed and ran to wake the landlady.
"Madam," he whispered, "Sir!"
"What?" became the mistress of collection. "What?"
"There is a drop, lady, a drop that comes up the stairs!"
"What?" asks the other in amazement.
"A drop that goes up the stairs!" repeated the servant, and almost began to cry.
"Go, go," swore the lady "Are you crazy? Marsch Back to bed! You've been drinking, the fact here is shameful. It 's a novel that is missing in the morning, wine in the bottle! Ugly dirty, if you believe ..."
But the girl had already escaped rincattucciata under the covers. "Who knows what the mind will never jumped on that stupid," thought the lady then, silently, having already lost sleep. And involuntarily listening to the night that dominated the world, she heard a curious noise. A drop up the stairs, positively. Jealous of the order, the lady thought for a moment to go out and see. But what ever could have found the miserable darkened light bulbs, hanging from the railing? How to trace a drop at night, with that cold on-ramps dark?
In the following days, from family to family, the rumor spread slowly and now everyone knows the house, although they prefer not to talk about, how silly of which, perhaps, be ashamed. Now many ears are strained in the darkness when the night fell to oppress mankind. And who thinks of one thing, some another. Some nights
drop silent. Other times, for long hours does not make that move, up, up, it seems that we should not stop. Flying hearts when a tender hand seems to touch the threshold. Just as well, and not 'stop. Here it goes away, tick, tick, going upstairs. So the positive side of the tenants' mezzanine think they are now in secure. The drop - they believe - has passed in front of their door, or will have more chance of disturbing them, while others, such that I'm on the sixth floor, now have reason for concern, not more of them. But who says that the drop in the coming nights will resume the journey from the point where he reached the last time, or rather not start over from scratch, starting the journey from the first steps, always damp and dark of abandoned rubbish? No, not even they can be considered safe. In the morning, leaving the house, if you look closely at the scale is never a trace remained. nothing, as expected, not the smallest footprint. On the morning of those who take more rest this thing seriously? In the sun the morning man and 'strong,' a lion, though a few hours before stunned. Or that those dell'ammezzato are right? The rest of us that had not heard anything and we kept free from even a few nights we hear something. The drop is still far, it's true. We get only a faint ticking, faint echoes through the walls. However, it is a sign that is rising and is getting closer. Even sleeping in a room inside, away from the stairwell, not needed. Better to hear the noise, rather than spending the nights in doubt whether there is or not. Who lives in those rooms sometimes answers can not resist, slips quietly in the corridors and stands in the ante-Frost, behind the door, breathing pending hearing. If you feel, no longer dares to leave, a slave of indecipherable fears. Worse, however, if all is quiet: in this case as a rule, which just returned to bed, just not then restart the noise?
What a strange life, then. It claims it can not do, or groped remedies, or find an explanation that melt the soul. And not even being able to persuade others of the other houses, who do not know. But then what would this drop: - demand with infuriating good faith - perhaps a mouse? A toad came out from the cellars? Not really. And then - they insist - that would be the case for an allegory? One would like, so to speak, to symbolize death? Or some danger? Or the passing years? Not at all, gentlemen, is simply a drop, just coming up the stairs. Or more subtly means represent the dreams and visions? Cherished and distant lands where it is assumed happiness? Something poetic words? Absolutely not. Or even the most remote places on the border of the world, which never comes? But no, I tell you, no joke, there are no double meanings, question, alas, just a drop of water, as far as we assume, that at night comes up the stairs. Tick, tick mysteriously, from step to step.
Today I place this story of the most Kafkaesque of Italian writers (though I read that he hated be compared to Kafka, who knows why? Or maybe you understand very well ...).
In any case, I hope you like it as it pleased me!
Happy late summer to ... And
PS one last thing: with Enigma and Fighter we are organizing a meeting (apparently in Milan, but is not yet 100% sure) for Sunday September 19 . An excellent opportunity to meet (and in some cases review) so many people I met here on blogger!
On our blog (mine and that of Eni and Fighter) will be soon the details of this appointment that can not miss!
A DROP (D. Buzzati)
A drop of water goes up the steps of the staircase. you feel it? lying in the dark, listening to his mysterious journey. How does it do? Jumping? Tick, tick can be heard intermittently. Then the drop will stop and perhaps for the remainder of the night There is no longer alive. However salt. From step to step is up, unlike other drops that fall perpendicularly into compliance with the law of gravity, and eventually make a little pop, well known throughout the world. This not: gradually rises along the stairwell letter E the immense tenement. Not that we, adults, refined, highly sensitive, to report it. But a servant of the first floor, dingy little ignorant creature.
noticed it one evening, late, when everyone had gone to sleep. After a while, 'he could not restrain himself, got out of bed and ran to wake the landlady.
"Madam," he whispered, "Sir!"
"What?" became the mistress of collection. "What?"
"There is a drop, lady, a drop that comes up the stairs!"
"What?" asks the other in amazement.
"A drop that goes up the stairs!" repeated the servant, and almost began to cry.
"Go, go," swore the lady "Are you crazy? Marsch Back to bed! You've been drinking, the fact here is shameful. It 's a novel that is missing in the morning, wine in the bottle! Ugly dirty, if you believe ..."
But the girl had already escaped rincattucciata under the covers. "Who knows what the mind will never jumped on that stupid," thought the lady then, silently, having already lost sleep. And involuntarily listening to the night that dominated the world, she heard a curious noise. A drop up the stairs, positively. Jealous of the order, the lady thought for a moment to go out and see. But what ever could have found the miserable darkened light bulbs, hanging from the railing? How to trace a drop at night, with that cold on-ramps dark?
In the following days, from family to family, the rumor spread slowly and now everyone knows the house, although they prefer not to talk about, how silly of which, perhaps, be ashamed. Now many ears are strained in the darkness when the night fell to oppress mankind. And who thinks of one thing, some another. Some nights
drop silent. Other times, for long hours does not make that move, up, up, it seems that we should not stop. Flying hearts when a tender hand seems to touch the threshold. Just as well, and not 'stop. Here it goes away, tick, tick, going upstairs. So the positive side of the tenants' mezzanine think they are now in secure. The drop - they believe - has passed in front of their door, or will have more chance of disturbing them, while others, such that I'm on the sixth floor, now have reason for concern, not more of them. But who says that the drop in the coming nights will resume the journey from the point where he reached the last time, or rather not start over from scratch, starting the journey from the first steps, always damp and dark of abandoned rubbish? No, not even they can be considered safe. In the morning, leaving the house, if you look closely at the scale is never a trace remained. nothing, as expected, not the smallest footprint. On the morning of those who take more rest this thing seriously? In the sun the morning man and 'strong,' a lion, though a few hours before stunned. Or that those dell'ammezzato are right? The rest of us that had not heard anything and we kept free from even a few nights we hear something. The drop is still far, it's true. We get only a faint ticking, faint echoes through the walls. However, it is a sign that is rising and is getting closer. Even sleeping in a room inside, away from the stairwell, not needed. Better to hear the noise, rather than spending the nights in doubt whether there is or not. Who lives in those rooms sometimes answers can not resist, slips quietly in the corridors and stands in the ante-Frost, behind the door, breathing pending hearing. If you feel, no longer dares to leave, a slave of indecipherable fears. Worse, however, if all is quiet: in this case as a rule, which just returned to bed, just not then restart the noise?
What a strange life, then. It claims it can not do, or groped remedies, or find an explanation that melt the soul. And not even being able to persuade others of the other houses, who do not know. But then what would this drop: - demand with infuriating good faith - perhaps a mouse? A toad came out from the cellars? Not really. And then - they insist - that would be the case for an allegory? One would like, so to speak, to symbolize death? Or some danger? Or the passing years? Not at all, gentlemen, is simply a drop, just coming up the stairs. Or more subtly means represent the dreams and visions? Cherished and distant lands where it is assumed happiness? Something poetic words? Absolutely not. Or even the most remote places on the border of the world, which never comes? But no, I tell you, no joke, there are no double meanings, question, alas, just a drop of water, as far as we assume, that at night comes up the stairs. Tick, tick mysteriously, from step to step.
And because we are afraid.
