I never had the opportunity to slide with Dad in the folds of the fan that was magical and Coney Island by the crisp rays caress me of his noon of any fire, perhaps softened by a bearded Disgrace Kelly and Gary Cooper the star of cardboard.
Whenever this possibility seemed carved in the horizon of my desires my father pretended indisposition (a toothache caused to the new dentures, the alleged declaration of war between the United States and the Milky Way, the stock market index or a race of gliders in St. Louis) until the ban by arguing trip related to the dangerous neighborhood. It was infinitely stupid dad, so as to have deserved - affibiatogli colleagues who worked with him at the gasometer - the epithet of Archie The Human snots. Wow! How to blame them since they spent most of his time in the Figs 'Blue with' ecstatic expression accompanied by a frantic search for a new gold-bearing veins in the mines of his boundless stuffy nose.
Mom was gone a few years ago with a distant cousin of North Dakota, a guy in his early twenties, very deficient air, something like Billy Lawson, Rawson, Cowson. The last letter was in May millenovecentocinquantatre and read something like this: "Dear Stan, here is a tale that is, me and Billy and we decided to get married to their brothers and sisters to you. I work as a nanny for wife of people who are so well known here in Fargo and I send you kisses and I'd like to know that you are well, your father will get breakfast? As you can tell him to put on a pancake on his nose for that disgusting. "
It seems to me to see her mama, with the heel on the pavement sizzling white hot, the propriety of the profession which he loved betrayed by circonfondersi sensual gestures, crack the morning glory modulating the voice on the register at the Geraldine Russell eyes while he was sweet to the workers of the telephone company.
And basically I only have a handful of marbles rolling along the roller coaster of memory, you and I sealed the iris of these mobile, and ever after the incident, in glorious ascension to the warehouses Adler or rumbling and lightning came down Sunday along the Hudson.
So, at the dawn of a particularly generous in July of flies, rain and dreams of spiders decided to take the first bus to Coney Island not before saying goodbye to my father (and lying on the destination) which, incidentally, could at that time undertaking to shave and at the same time, put his index bluish in what sounded like a canyon to be gutted, esplosogli now in the middle of the face.
Until then I had a beautiful park adorned by a series of amazing figures, something that looks like General Tom Thumb, Jo-Jo the dog-faced boy or Siamese twins Chang and Eng, all withdrawals from an epiphany of creatures pictures of old postcards of the human anatomy or the bizarre hand-painted posters to advertise yet another world tour of PT Barnum and his associates.
The Coney Island of Houdini and acrobats, however, had long since closed its doors as well as his famous attraction "Fire and Flames" (nothing but a simulated fire off as a result of false and melancholy firefighters hired for the occasion) . What disappointment
when, instead of the 'eccentric live nativity scene, not a procession of three kings accompanied by a fantastic bestiary is parried before my eyes, but a more modest carousel of stalls exhibiting donuts and hot dogs! The yards that lined the streets looked like colored pencils arranged in an orderly fashion along the graph of mad quell'agglomerato of moldy barracks and even cotton candy was stale, he remembered the taste of syrup that expired ingollai the Christmas Eve one thousand nine hundred (and I almost sent to another world if it were not for Uncle Arthur who had the alertness to notice my principle of suffocation while hidden from the tree, I moved the Martian plastic given to me to dad with the points of "The Knights of the Green Ray"). I was so all alone, thinking about the disappointment of that 'hot July morning, when I noticed a dot in the zigzag line steam' horizon. Like a fly trapped in a jar of honey a black Ford proceeded in my direction without being able to hover permanently from the recesses of the South that he concluded in his viscous golden eye. L 'car approached a red shack - sciorinante the laconic inscription "House of Wonders" - followed by a swarm of people who waved their hats and pointed to friends, relatives and girlfriends who apparently already knew the show and that it constituted a' attraction to share with the uninitiated. A man opened the door and, quick as a shadow of a tree seen through the window of a moving train, his figure slipped inside the cabin followed by the whistles and the promptings of the knot that was now swelling profusely. I was about to embark on the way back and, on the other hand, I had already decided that Coney Island would never see her again, but I resolved to leave after that last show in a circus. After a few minutes the announcer came on the plank that served as the stage and, schiaritasi his throat, he uttered these words with a loud voice: "Ladies and gentlemen, children and cute puppies, I have the honor to present a priceless talent, never seen in Europe , Asia, Poles and the South Seas! Able to swallow any object with its unique proboscis - the syllables pronounced by a mechanical phonograph Edison rusty - here comes the unique, the incomparable, amazing AR-CHIE AND HIS FA-VO-LO-SO-NA SO! ".
Sciarlselisé
0 comments:
Post a Comment