by Barbara Audisio
The streets are deserted and the quiet grabs the throat, as if it has consistency. I walk looking around, paying attention to any noise have something human, looking behind open windows a movement that would indicate a presence.
There was a German shepherd in the house across the street, the one with the white fence. Barked constantly people passing, determinated to defend something that was already his. He always arrived from the bottom of the grass without a single bark and then exploded in anger, drool and noise a few centimeters from passers-by.
Now the gate is opened, the lawn without its guardian, the house appears deserted, the space around still, dead air. Dead Air.
There is a supermarket down the street, just before the square and I’m hungry. A new companion since I opened my eyes. It came when disappeared the headache. Inside the store there will still be something, maybe there is someone, maybe one person put there to defend the food. He will not deny me something to eat. He can’t do it.
I don’t remember anything. It’s like I have not lived before today. I’m still thinking about it, but nothing come back to me memories. I do not remember if I have brothers, a family, friends with whom I shared my life. I don’t remember faces, eyes, voices, names.
I remember her, but not as I would like. It’s a constant gurgle of feelings, a ferment that has no smell, consistency, a mixture of emotions rising up from the bottom and fills my eyes with love and tears. I would like to recall her features, hands, body, I wish I could remember why she is not with me, and why we were divided. I would like to see her now. I’m sure that if I could see her I could remember every moment and the bubbling emotions could stop and become images.