As we begin to talk of unlikely subjects, we found ourselves before the prison Buoncammino turned the place for a long time in my warm home. The prison is situated on one of the hills overlooking the city, where you can enjoy an excellent view. On the left is the ancient Roman amphitheater, imperturbable reminder of a time now lost. Extends before most of my beautiful city, the port to get up to the Laguna of Santa Gilla, in which from time to time is given to the headlines the body of some "last" definitely fallen from grace. In the distance you can see the mighty mountain range of the Seven Brothers whose contours, particularly clear in the mornings, taking spectral appearance, a faded colors, a frame of Monet. On top, the hill surrounded by trees and historic buildings, dominated by the emblematic structure "jail", which shows the appearance of a lovely nineteenth-century palace, with its round shapes and aggrazziate. Few elements cause the displeasure of his "guests" of small cells, lack of air, promiscuity, and violence of various kinds Abut. In this prison there is a high suicide rate, are full of petty thieves, the neighborhood, people with AIDS, HIV, drug users, immigrants from every nation and color, mentally ill, viral and skin. In short, this little place we last of the earth we have chosen an ideal vacation spot forced! At the time
University not know these situations, but during that clear morning in October I had the opportunity to hear a special dialogue, which lit a lamp in the darkness of my mind darkened. I heard a voice that came from the big rock on the right of prison ... A woman, who barely kept the stragonfie shopping bags, it seemed the muse of the bards of the more unfortunate.
"Antò , Antò" He screamed with the same enthusiasm as a jew who saw the promised land.
"Anto, Antoniccu are Mom, let me see my son ... "
" Lord, what is it, mom knows Cappai de Tony?
" EIA, which I call him Anthony, please ..."
" Yes sir, we had already call him ..."
held the silence for a few minutes while I waited for Valerie and Maurice that the boy decided to be alive. Those events were surprising to us, we felt like children in front of a sarabande of cakes and sweets.
"Oh, but to me it's me"
She moved for the first time, like a statue that comes to life at the wax museum.
"Son, my beautiful ... How are you? "
" Eh, but tottu goods, and the back of my father still straight? "
" Yes, he is already past, so I salute him, and Zia Assunta Rosa. Play some 'beautiful. .. "
" What happened? "
" No, and Anto, who has not already happened. But I must say that my father has to sell the land of Uncle Amerigo, and had always wanted to ask you the same opinion ... "
" Of course they are, you already know that I never change your mind, I. Tell him to sell it to my father, and forget about it, and Uncle Amerigo comprategli a beautiful plaque with a picture just a little more beautiful, that in what did you put paride unu maccu limpiu , your aunt ... "
" or Antò Okay, put on your sweater, look at the review tomorrow, hello beautiful mother. "
" Hello or mA, and a saludamì tottusu ... "
We obviously did not miss a single sentence of that original box. Then I could not imagine that one day soon, I personally met the elusive Tony. Detained meet the great scoundrels of every kind of deviance upset, sometimes without morality, lost in the thousand vicissitudes of daily living, or openly in the same prison. Tony, however, was not a villain, and was succeeded to maintain a degree of personal dignity, in places like this arduous undertaking, in which shame and brutality in s'accavallano
hectic ... I remember like it was yesterday (it was yesterday?) the day when I met him. During a quiet spring afternoon, when the wind was carrying pleasing fragrances daughters of the sea, a turkish thirst for vengeance had tried to stab me during a game of "moon mounts". Tony had immediately locked, and kicked him so powerful and breathtaking.
"I Won, I won, I'll asshole!" Panted the mustachioed opening their arms to simulate a huge circle.
"Go back to the Bosphorus, the turkish hell! "Answers him while they were taking him away, protected from the broad shoulders of my rescuer.
"Oh, boy, get it easy, otherwise you my ass I do ..." I said Tony, who kept a pack of cigarettes in his hand as if he had a bomb mototov ready to be hurled towards the wall.
said this short but vital phrase, Tony showed me his toothless smile from Venezuelan killer, meanwhile holding out his great hand. It was a "Maurri" feet tall and ninety pounds of muscle per cent wisely distributed on an outstanding physicist. Before being imprisoned his job was a mechanic, a legend in his field, he knew procure any piece of any car sacrosanct. It was like one of those Cuban mechanics who know how to fix those American cars that you can only see on Happy Days, led by Fonzie, Wells, or perhaps cursed by Jhonny slices ... On his imprisonment versions circulated contradictory and improbable, but one day he discovered that it was was arrested for a trivial "assault a police officer."
"I wanted to seize the car that bastard, but he is gone, eeeh! If he is gone ... "I said quietly one afternoon, as if I was saying that he had gone to buy a ribinetto to the sink in his house.
"Mom my, "I said," sometimes exaggerate their own. Once kidnapped me from Marbella because he did not review. Damn, my father did not kill me for a while ... You what car did you have? "
" A Porsche! "
" How is it that they wanted to seize? "
" I've been taking apart ... But it was not mine, oh, not be stupid! "
" Wow ... "I commented, trying to hide my dismay.
Tony was a heroin addict the last generation, fluid flowed through his veins and dangerous unknown, absolute mixtures, drugs that only selected professionals were able to prepare. His criminal record was long as the road to salvation, but still behaved like a gentleman, said "thank you", "please," always defended the weak, not only from ordinary bullying other prisoners, but also the brutality most treacherous of warders. In short, it was a sort of Fidel Castro's prison, but did not distinguish class and was unaware of any variant of Marxism-stamped so the poor as the rich, the powerful as the last of the earth. However the powerful beat with a smile, and this was enough to make the most sympathetic. All have value, but Tony confided in her, despite being a big man in the sense primary term, it was still a man ... One morning
m'apprestavo to clean the floor of our cell. The night before David had been busy, had eaten like a maniac and threw up all over with anger, throwing up his arms towards the full moon could be glimpsed through the grating of the cell. Have been three in the morning, at most four. Some servants and dragged him to the infirmary, so if you could call it, because he had also vomited blood. Some sketches I had sealed on the face, and scratched the toilet bowl while I wondered if the beloved cellmate was HIV positive or not. M'aveva recounted several episodes with the Nigerian Viale Elmas, and in addition was perfect harmony with Ratzinger on the issue of condoms. Granted, the clues were not reassuring, but I decided not to think about. The problems of every day was enough, I could not give a straight hypochondria ... In the meantime, some stubbornly resist fouling, but inappropriate as Sandro Bondi, the jailer on duty began to bang his club on the bars of the cell.
SDENG! SDENG! SDENG!
"Dickhead, Tony Capper was your friend, is not it?" He asked with his Sicilian accent.
"Yes, of course, what you want from him?"
"What do I want? Your friend is setting the account with the Big Boss, eh eh.
I looked at him as if I were watching an alien in learning vacation on earth.
"Hell does not give the reduction of sentence, the lawyers do not come here, you bastard!"
"What happened ... When?" I asked as I raised icredulo.
"Tonight, a beautiful overdose ... He laid out a horse fuck ... Serves them right! "
" Damn, "I said," go to get an enema! You need it, you see as you walk by ... "
" We, we, you look at how you talk, henchman ... There is more to defend your friend, remember all the time you'll be in here ... "
said that the subtle went to attend to some other gory affair.
I threw the broom in the toilet, I sat on the bed stained with blood and I ran my hand over his face. My mind went to that distant memory, when his mother called him and he responded by gratings, buried walls. Tony, damn you! Yet he was an expert of heroin, as he was able to happen ... A series of disturbing images passed through the antechamber of my consciousness. I thought of the warders, the Turks, at that damn Bonorva baker who wanted to tear him to pieces, a Sunni who had sworn that, in the name of Muhammad himself, to kill him. No, I do not know, only he possessed the key, and receiving carried as in Paradise of fools. I thought so at the prison, the lessons of criminal law, institution of punishment, the principle of rehabilitation, retribuzioniste theories, utilitarian, to the Constitution ... Then I thought the last of the land locked up in prisons, immigrants, transsexuals, prostitutes, the thieves of the neighborhood, and then to all those who decide to commit suicide, those who die of AIDS, those who are stabbed, strangled, raped, those who no one ever goes to find, those who await the passing of the days with calm resignation ... Then I thought, and thought, and thought again, and then, and then ... And then came David.
"What are you doing in the midst of this mess?" I asked with an expression of a ghost.
"Tony Capper died of an overdose last night."
"Ah, poor fellow! It was a good person ... Come on, give me a hand. "
David, with the shirts still stained with blood, grabbed the white sheet that had just placed on the cot. He asked me to help him to get closer to the grating, then tied a knot in the sheet to slide outside of the cell. He dragged the cot near the wall, then we went over almost panting. The other prisoners had the same idea of \u200b\u200bDavid, this was in fact a deeply rooted tradition, compassion is carefully monitored desperate among us. Dozens and dozens of white sheets waving in the sun for a light west wind, hailed the early release of our final and Tony Cappai.
Vincent D'Ascanio, unpublished, 2009.
