A loaded gun. New initiatives 
Thanks to this particular situation greatly improved conditions in Mauritius. The first time I met her a rag was plastered with blood but you know, the days of abstinence is not a walk on the promenade in Rio. Degenerated when nurses did not allow me to enter, then I sat on a bench and tried to imagine the unimaginable. One afternoon we found ourselves in the vast garden of the hospital. In the tree-lined avenues skeletal walked many patients, others were coated on the benches, some arguing with his own ghosts, a politician admitted he tried to seduce a seventeen-plus ... The nurses were lining the streets with my arms crossed, waiting rooms of statues of the sun the melt. In those hours Maurizio was well, smiled letting go many confidences. He was to begin the speech, while a cigarette was burning between the skinny fingers.
"In truth, consider me a jerk, is not it?"
not answer, that is, every sentence seemed to me inappropriate, let's leave the platitudes to those who want to make the revolution of toilet paper. He wanted to talk to me, and I was ready to listen. When a person is in pieces are well prepared, I'm amazed that anyone could be worse than me ... "His face was turned in on himself, he looked totally focused, it seemed almost absent. Sometimes I considered that I was not his party, in my place if there had been a distributor of infected semen would not change much. Maybe he wanted to talk only to himself, I was not only a means to achieve his inner self, a mirror reflecting splintered emotional states ... It 'difficult to tell what Maureen told me. It 'hard to penetrate the mind of an addict, an intricate maze where no elf spewing psychopath bread crumbs for you to find the path ... Why not?
Get rid of the umbilical cord and in an instant you are a user, you come in crazy teens, between a football and the other one says, "eye, life is hard", but no promises exactly As. Yes, the blonde boy who fiddles with his soldiers in fifteen years will be a heroin addict, seek spoons and innocent flames, the arm will slip a few drops of blood. I also played with toy soldiers, I talk about spoons and forks, and I was a prodigy in the game of the guillotine, but no one could imagine a future for me on probation. Only Uncle Bachisio you dreamed, that wretch m'aveva always seen in a bad eye, damn him. And instead ... Mauritius, the little chubby and Mauritius, skewered with a syringe in my arm fat, a dartboard for jackals, stuff you would not believe. Then, linear, on a starry summer night, the beach of Cala Mosca energetic comes the first rite. The first dose because you're curious and you are stupid enough to think that the "friends" watching you. The second dose because the person you love is ... un'eroinomane "We share everything." The third dose because your dreams have crumbled like sand castles erected on the beach. The fourth dose because your life is anything but what you really want. The fifth dose because your father is a huge asshole consumerist absent. The sixth dose because you start from self-flattering. The seventh dose because it begins to be extraordinarily painful.
Mauritius has followed these steps with the same determination and dedication of a Bartali evolving. Why is it that a person may feel disoriented as nice as Mauritius, as well an ideal hand accompanies the person of our lives, sometimes presents us with a passion, love, color, other times it takes you in "places, not places" terrible, dark, cramped, dematerializing. This invisible hand, god, destiny, fate, karma, or hell you want to call it, has graciously accompanied my friend to symbiotic contact between a vein and needle shiny button, a contact who became vital as that of a terminally ill patient clung to the machine allows him to breathe.
"Initially, the heroine is not bad." These are his words. INITIALLY. The following is the problem, perhaps. Or was the problem first, upstream, inner ...
You start to do it with lukewarm to cool down the transgression, to relax nerves overload of everyday dirt and redundant. With spasms of terror and wonder you realize that heroin is no longer an amusement, a game, a devilish challenge for the meshes of the legal system, but becomes the ultimate end of all your actions. Start a new life, you begin to attend new people come into contact with new dangers, you are alert as a panther. Only then will you have all it takes to start the race for money, ever so decisive hand in hand and began the lies, the petty theft, which follow one another in an escalation of importance, inaugurated the first doses consumed in complete solitude, unbridled celebration of your addiction ... indisputable
During that winter afternoon tempered Maurizio he described in great detail his first terrifying crisis. He spoke with a hint of nostalgia, perhaps he felt pity for himself, for that guy who wanted and could still do it ... He was magnificent in the balcony of his villa in Viale Merello, during a night at the flat in October. The sun was trying to hide behind the distant mountains, from the street came the metallic sounds of city traffic. In those days, "our" had decided not to take heroin because he wanted to prove to himself that he did not need. The first effects of dependence had occurred and also my friend, as happened to many, was looking for an inner comfort of the alarming signals generated by the body. As he was squatting in his chair, his legs tight against his chest, arms folded around her knees, watched with faint outlines the distraction of the mountains, circling birds and paid attention to a symphony from the neighbor's house. His legs are stretched, the rib cage began to move in regular rhythms. He fell asleep so happy, happy, relaxed ... SCARED! He was awakened by the blast as a fearful emotional charge of TNT, assuming an attack Panic nth power. Her throat had dried up, the headache dominated arrogant, nerves, particularly those of the neck, tended like the strings of a violin.
"Cigarettes, cigarettes ... where the fuck are the water, silks ... Mom ... Mom ... Sweat ... Pain ... It would ... Aulin, ... It would take a painkiller, it would take ..."
instantly understood what was happening, and before it reached the worst was already on his motorcycle in search of drug dealer, friendly, patiently handed out a holy dose to the people. A one hundred and sixty median axis appointment on the steps they took The Church of Bonaria, before the gulf was the fateful exchange, and in less than no time Maurice was crouched on the toilet of his house neat. He was completely sweaty, soaked, flooded, hands and legs were shaking, lost individually saliva from the right side of the mouth, the thoughts overtake furious but at least his hands clutching the magic, and this made him feel better already. Despite being a newbie had all the tools of the trade, sealed in a metal box that could hide comfortably among the wretched volumes of his library. Gestures of the transformation in front of the bathroom mirror, with the ornament of a druid priest. Tied the rubber tube at the biceps left, slowly inject heroin with a warped grin on his lips, like a river and slid into the lake, the dose of his blood contaminated. The last image is saved the moment fell from the toilet bowl, to go crashing to the floor. He awoke after two hours, exceptionally, dazed, with a hungry dog, a bloody eyebrow because of the fall, pissed, and with the syringe still impaled in his arm ... She was raised, a tormented Lazarus of our times cursed. In fact, it was as if for a few hours no longer existed, disappeared, vanished, PUFF ...
Now he had returned to him, perhaps in the syringe was heroin, he was the same as if the drug you take away your being and takes up residence, lived, breathed, in substance the same ... Bad joke ... Just a bad joke.
That night the house was empty Viale Merello, everyone had moved to the coast (their home on Red Margin, I learned later, was an endless show). This had prevented that particular someone in limbo ... sorprendesse Maurizio described me as if the situations do not belong to him as if he was rambling about a friend who knew both, a friend who had always enjoyed. He continued to smoke his cigarettes with ease, es'interrompeva only to see some nice nurse who was dancing near us, or some bizarre nurses we gazed with contempt. His condition improved, no longer met the boy destroyed in the Faculty. It was turning in Mauritius I knew, always ready to fall in love with some beautiful girl, joking with everyone, or to organize a practical joke to those who deserved it. While observing the breath, in spite of everything, I was sure that my friend is going to make it ...
the day of his funeral, the rain god had decided to do overtime. It almost looked like you were throwing buckets of water on him, but that afternoon to take a umbrella seemed an unnecessary luxury. The riff-raff like me, however, do not ever take him ... The rain slid on my face and dug into his beard, he struck the face and hands torn, scars, but I did not feel cold, just anger. The cypress trees bowed to the fury of the wind, they also seemed to bow down before the majesty of death ...
Overdose in the lobby of a building under construction, two lines of the news in the local newspaper to highlight on the entire membership of the family wealthy. I was involved in a glacial solitude, I was released from prison Valeria m'aveva not yet spoken, Augustine was shocked by one of his mix, Azuz was sent back to kick ass, and Elena had to seat the hospital emergency department for a frightening infectious. I was nervous like a wounded boar, every now and then I watched the parents of Mauritius, all that was cursed by cursing, biting my fingers and lips. Images emerging from oblivion when we were children, only memories of when we were kids. Maurizio, who smiles at me from the benches of the school, which messes up the plans of Maurice catechists, Mauritius with a ball in my hands that I choose for his team. His eyes were shining like two emeralds, a smile that was burned so intense, but now no longer there, or maybe there was, but I did not see it. From time and then talked to him ... "Mauritius, damn you ..." "Mauritius are a glucagon of shit ..."
When you're kid you not facing this kind of solutions, sometimes a relative, or your mother, curse thee roughly, but no one seriously suggests a similar end. Only my religion teacher, during a peaceful spring morning, ventured. I screwed it up, then she went up to my face, looked into my eyes and with his fetid breath he said: "You'll never become anyone. Remember that well, you'll never become anybody. "He told me with contempt, with subtle hatred that only sisters can crazy to release. The sister, however, was wrong. Yes, maybe not even anyone, and perhaps never will be, but I miss a little time, short and concise action, organization and commitment, to be permanently labeled as a habitual offender. A heck of a recidivist, a potential danger to watch! In this way I could claim a title, "no one" who knows who would have said ... How does the television, whether or not you reach your goals, what matters is what you feel when you're trying to achieve ... I am a loaded gun.
Vincent M. D'Ascanio, unpublished 2010
