Remembrance in music

Therefore a day my friend of the Society of the Sestetto offers me to work gratis for the aforesaid society. I not storco the nose like faro' in future for offering inferior four to the million.

I make myself to give borsone and an address, piu' some other logistic information and delivery. They are accustomed to the travel in train until Milan. Indeed, also being characterized from the same duration of that one until Turin, it makes it appeal to me to be able to vary the landscape, the stopped ones, the periphery.

With the exception of Susa Door, Headquarters have an immense one spiazzo difronte to she. I reverberate of the heat then piu' violent Augustin e' who that one of simple the wide one lastricato in Turinese stone. They are not accustomed to the presence of toxics and then I avoid the directed way, bensi' I follow a triettoria width around the public square in order to catch up the shed of the buses.

E' hour to point out little to my mission: shared for orchestra. I go with the borsone empty in order to return with the same full load of shared for the sinfonico concert that siterra' in evening. Ue', I am going in the warehouse of Rimembranze! If the store e' tempio of music... a what sara' never " the warehouse "? I sto' going to the heart of the tempio.
Sto' fantasticando of cio' and I notice substantially of being in the periphery. I decidedly cover an industrial area constituted from sheds low and long roads all perpendicular between they. The women with the shopping bags are gia' come down all and are remained single laborers and laborers. Come down all with me... but where... perhaps to the heart of the tempio of music?

Beh, not. They enter in an other equal shed... to mine. E' a shed... e' nothing to say not there on cio'... with the offices proceeds with reading to premanufactured tramezze and the fixtures in anodized aluminum... offices of a shed. I try something that me memories... beh... music, the concerts, the evenings of gala... one moquette, a soundproofed panel... one set apart angle in, penumbra, with even a leggio... And people. I tried the musicians, outlandish people, the artists.
I obtain most insufficient attention, but to the fine ones they accompany to me. E' one mrs. dressed like one master, the glasses in the balance in held top to the nose on with the chain stitch. Through the courtyard and I introduce an other shed. This e'... equal to the other. Only that this e' piu' high, exactly the double quantity, evidently similar to quell of the offices, but customizzato various. Walking along the high shelvings I see cumuli of yellowed paper, with sgualciti and covered sides of powder. They are held on with the spago, that large one from large packages. Someone e' wrapped without some unificatore criterion in paper from packages. I see also many cartellini... from packages.

There e' people who go around without haste like me and my guide with a sheet in hand similar to what I have port to she While - that I try the roba to them repair also la' in bottom.
" I sit down " on a bench near long tables parallels lined from the usual paper thick, fixed brown and as it was from aspettarsi, with the obtained needles from design variously oxidized from an only floppy disk of metal to one or three tips. While I watch myself well from appoggiami to the all that infido brown, sincere only with the spots of oil or liquids, I observe others two women to the estremita' opposite of the table.

They are, concedetemi, " similar " to that one that sta' taking care itself of my embassy. Hanno difronte to they some " packages " with the spago disciolto. They are many slow ones, but they are not speaking between they that in rarefied way a lot. They winnow thus the shared ones annotating qualche.cosa on a registry. Hour quite they are stopped.
Famous that there e' one brionvega close to they, that one to Foggia of two hinged cubes. They are listening with attention, here the reason of their slowness. Hour they are firm and the piu' old with the elbow to the table, it has supported the cheek to the hand. The look e' to the radio, the sorriso e' serene but expressive: - E' much Bravo... aah.
There e' a romantico pianista that sta' attracting their attention. The too much discreet volume e' affinche' I perceive the executed sonata one, but here that towards the end the sorridente mrs. recovers: - Bravino, bravino... but e' scappato the ditino here... - with the strict but comprehensive tone of the mother. But e' this the tempio of music?