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Chapter XI "In this clever"


And Kappa knelt. In a moment he was conscious. Away from himself and from others and how he lied to God in front of a Virgin Mary remained silent. A trumpet in the distance calling for silence. A trumpet in tortured silence.
Kappa took all the rain it deserved. Kappa brought back all the unpredictable and headed to the sea. With your back to the horizon cursed the inconstancy of which was done and was ashamed of his mediocrity. Caught her hands and compared it But without a shadow to find great similarities, then walked to a magician with a funny hat. She cried. He rolled to thirteen times and getting up again sings to himself.
In less than no time the roots Kappa poured a pitiful amount of dirty water.
Thus Kappa became aware of being a real creep.

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Chapter X "at the end of the sea"


And Kappa felt lighter. Sliding on a
sciovolo memories. In a sea of \u200b\u200bliquid present.
A sea of \u200b\u200bblue tents where the children play a few years by postponing the awareness of the tragedy.
someone tells them, and not only them, fables.
"The fables are used to make children understand, now, how bad the world, "he repeated to himself that Kappa was hard to recognize.
could not complain Kappa. wandered between consciousness and unconsciousness, between attraction and repulsion between the maturity and 'childishness.
His heart was full of bitter happiness.
soul constantly vibrate.
Mind clownish.
frivolous and heavy.
A continual "yes" was Kappa.
charlatan and conclusive.
Counterfeiters and violent.
Kappa rolled fast against himself and, without saying a word, disappeared.

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Chapter IX "Closed and open


remained locked in a room at the top, Kappa.
saw the lights of the city and felt imagine the sea horizon as elegiac notes of a piano, like a weeping, caressed the heedless.
was released, however, easily embarrassed and blushed like after a childish prank.
Fermi images rolled up moments mirrored in increasingly frequent contradictions and new sensations, now sinking of cello, provoking smiles gushed all'incostante K. And then
eyes.
And then smiles.
And then behind a wall of silence to write songs again.
And then that film that touches the soul more. She pressed
, comforting, between the shoulders. He went
, dealing with their backs to the wall. She
with their backs to the wall. Nights were never
so long in early summer than ever before. Then one should
apricot upon him. Small, orange, velvety, sweet.
not prayed for a while Kappa, perhaps he had never prayed. No presumption of
block universes, but only a summer evening.

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Chapter VIII" Withdraw and inspire "


melt. Dilute. Move.
Surrender.
planning a trip to Chile
by covering mistakes.
Vagarsi, not recreation.
extravaganza. Become
extravagant, not extravagant.
moved. Becoming
sky.
stretch out without asking.
Draw and inspire.
never arrive.
Terremutarsi.
paint.
Wrong, but wrong.
Estatizzarsi, but not anesthetized.
Wasting time.
lie, but do not lie.
dance.

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Cap.VII" Sand and Fog "


Kappa plunged into his new wound and threw himself at every opportunity.
fields of light reflected in the glasses, while dogs, friends of the rubble, looking for those souls in silence, those ghosts who wandered in motel fire without tears. Each mirror was
Kappa for a new dialogue with himself. Each
himself reflected in a dialogue between the mirrors.
The situation was complex but not complicated and the intention of an action made him in love with simple things, but loves deeply.
sewage, little water, unnoticed. A road was not looking
Kappa, perhaps a way yes. Imagining a London fog and hidden from Metaponto heated sand.
Gulls, like snow in summer, blacks filled the skies of a summer away from so many others, but close to many others, lost in the warmth of the seven in the evening, the noise of dishes in lunch on Sunday, the color of a red dress in a square in a small village in Sicily. Overwhelmed by these odors
Kappa denied architectures dream and was lost in a bubble of pleasure.

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Chapter VI" A single lamp "



Feel the summer plunge. He was speechless. In a moment not lost his mind. There was more
consistency. Did not trust the inconsistency and try to be the opposite of a bunch of a bunch of flowers. "A flower scent alone. A bunch of dead flowers stink after a while." He found it written somewhere and revalued each report.
shone slowly. Spouses at each this intention. He married the moment. Testing the moment.
is entrusted to the stomach and did not allow anyone to enter more.
His cottage was a child. His tired eyes. The spirit was there.
also evaluated the option not to speak. Strongly hoped not to waste words.
was stretched to the future knowing full well to be wireless. "Ne-hilum" - "No-flush" Nihilist. Without laces. He enjoyed
Modigliani, Balthus praised, respected Van Gogh
much time. How much was spent. How many errors did not commit.
How many people had moved. How much lipstick he had not enjoyed it as redness and instead had sought. She felt
animal. He felt human.
collaborated to his own imperfection and others around him applauded.
Tangle by own, and everything changed around mask. While everybody was looking around
safer alternatives.

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Chapter V" Fountain "


Kappa "as an exile thought," fell asleep. A sleep
strange. A sleep alert. He imagined all sorts of beauty in the world: there were kisses of ice shining a land called "Fountain" with many fountains and a sensual voice of a woman who threw communicated by speakers set in the sky, welcome to Fontana, on your left side you can see the first fountain of the king of Fontana. "
Dance, dance and laughter filled the air. Drums played by young ladies, elves and again lost in the multicolored-haired and lanky movements inevitable jumping, smiling clowns on rickety chairs, kissing and kissing again and then hugs and caresses.
Fontania water was abundant and its buildings, its walls were made of water. The roads were like rivers, but walkable. There were no loud noises, but it was muffled, all soft, everything ran on its own.
Kappa plan on this world for nearly 300 years, but in reality only 40 seconds.
A voice kept saying "Welcome to Fontana, the land where our soul is like water"

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Chapter III" Kappa in doubtful mind "


Perhaps Kappa was not ready. Maybe it was not time. Inside the caves, in the corridors of thought anger and grief were unconscious. Maybe it was not time. Maybe we still
wait for the meeting with those ghosts remote Kappa, tired but almost new, waited and waited for at least 3032 years. Perhaps the groups, the agglomeration of human and subhuman nomad fragile and could not receive more than in the course of a lifetime had already received. Perhaps in
slow walks of nuns, in their eyes lost sheep without shepherds, not wanting too much play in the children, not in the ranks of the hungry, there was palpable truth, but difficult to bring to light.
Perhaps the tension of one, two, a thousand trips to the response to that move while remaining seated. Perhaps
Kappa, no tears, he heard the inaudible, as the invisible, touch the untouchable, if only he had not heard his feet as marble invaded by ants. Kappa
Maybe he had too many "maybe" as empty excuses to immobility. Perhaps
Kappa was red with shame. Maybe it was the shame of the past. Maybe too
Kappa weighed again. Perhaps
Kappa weighed too much. Perhaps
Kappa weighed. Perhaps
Kappa.
Maybe.