A special section dedicated to special people and special memories. A book might not be enough, but collecting some words doesn't hurts
Chapter 1: Frank
He was said "the man with the suitcase", and not without reason I would say. He was always somewhere around the world, and every time he finally set foot at home, it was just for changing cloths and leaving again. Even when he remained in his native continent, he was used to move from a place to another. Maybe "gipsy" could be the right way to refer to him, but of course "the man with the suitcase" well describes the person we are talking about. Despite he has a name, as every person has, he's constantly called for his surname. Now, the fact his surname means "blind" was often the reason for several nick-names or very funny situation. I remember when he went to pay visit to my office. Unfortunately that day I was out, chasing who knows which news. And I can remember our editorial assistant informing telling me that a person came stating to be a friend of mine, a person whose name was difficult to remember. «I think he didn't use his name. I think he said his name was Scarred»
«Was the name "Blind"?»
We always laugh about at any occasion. And here we come to our problem, to our Hamletic doubt: are we going to meet, one day? In some how, once the only problem was him and his travelling. That made difficult to meet. But it's also true that today all of us are men with a suitcase, displaced in a world where living is getting more and more complicated. But this is another story, and maybe some one will tell in the future. There are many moments I could recall, but right now what I have in mind was our last night together. Let explain, otherwise somebody could misunderstand. He had to join people in Rome. After having spent a day with us, he had to get into the car and driving in order to say goodbye to other folks. He asked me to go. I remember I didn't feel like, and he had to insist before I decided to get into that car. Now I think I didn't really had any idea of the situation, as usually happens to me. We listened to the music. It was an Italian singer, someone I never considered one of my favourite music makers. Today I listened to an old album from another Italian singer, the same LP we decided to play in a private concert night. I still have to understand if there are any pictures of that night...
He was said "the Vietnamese" as well. I can just say he got this nick-name for - let's say in this way - his rock and roll. He spent a night in fighting against the bore. I guess he's going to laugh in reading this version of the story, but I believe is a good one. What I don't believe is that night was necessary to fight against bore because of the nice people animating the environment, but, well, "the Vietnamese" was useful any way. Now I'm with my memory book, I remember when he issued his personal motto "let's make another one". Play it again, Frank. Play it now you are where surf music comes from. And plaid when it's winter in New York. Sorry, it was just a stupid word game. I'm not even sure it makes laugh. Certainly it doesn't sound funny "the Vietnamese" went living in the United States. If comrade Ho Chi Min knew...
In this picture there's Frank. It tells a story of an extraordinary trip, extraordinary because unique. And this picture shows, of course, a man travelling. This is the picture of "the man with the suitcase", the one who never stops because he who hesitates is lost. And that's why our man has always a suitcase to prepare. May the road lead him wherever he wants...
He was said "the man with the suitcase", and not without reason I would say. He was always somewhere around the world, and every time he finally set foot at home, it was just for changing cloths and leaving again. Even when he remained in his native continent, he was used to move from a place to another. Maybe "gipsy" could be the right way to refer to him, but of course "the man with the suitcase" well describes the person we are talking about. Despite he has a name, as every person has, he's constantly called for his surname. Now, the fact his surname means "blind" was often the reason for several nick-names or very funny situation. I remember when he went to pay visit to my office. Unfortunately that day I was out, chasing who knows which news. And I can remember our editorial assistant informing telling me that a person came stating to be a friend of mine, a person whose name was difficult to remember. «I think he didn't use his name. I think he said his name was Scarred»
«Was the name "Blind"?»
We always laugh about at any occasion. And here we come to our problem, to our Hamletic doubt: are we going to meet, one day? In some how, once the only problem was him and his travelling. That made difficult to meet. But it's also true that today all of us are men with a suitcase, displaced in a world where living is getting more and more complicated. But this is another story, and maybe some one will tell in the future. There are many moments I could recall, but right now what I have in mind was our last night together. Let explain, otherwise somebody could misunderstand. He had to join people in Rome. After having spent a day with us, he had to get into the car and driving in order to say goodbye to other folks. He asked me to go. I remember I didn't feel like, and he had to insist before I decided to get into that car. Now I think I didn't really had any idea of the situation, as usually happens to me. We listened to the music. It was an Italian singer, someone I never considered one of my favourite music makers. Today I listened to an old album from another Italian singer, the same LP we decided to play in a private concert night. I still have to understand if there are any pictures of that night...
He was said "the Vietnamese" as well. I can just say he got this nick-name for - let's say in this way - his rock and roll. He spent a night in fighting against the bore. I guess he's going to laugh in reading this version of the story, but I believe is a good one. What I don't believe is that night was necessary to fight against bore because of the nice people animating the environment, but, well, "the Vietnamese" was useful any way. Now I'm with my memory book, I remember when he issued his personal motto "let's make another one". Play it again, Frank. Play it now you are where surf music comes from. And plaid when it's winter in New York. Sorry, it was just a stupid word game. I'm not even sure it makes laugh. Certainly it doesn't sound funny "the Vietnamese" went living in the United States. If comrade Ho Chi Min knew...
In this picture there's Frank. It tells a story of an extraordinary trip, extraordinary because unique. And this picture shows, of course, a man travelling. This is the picture of "the man with the suitcase", the one who never stops because he who hesitates is lost. And that's why our man has always a suitcase to prepare. May the road lead him wherever he wants...
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