The inner life was however, also Vito’s friend’s source of happiness and what had given him a rich and joyful life, especially after he had learned the many ways of managing his own mind. And as Vito sometimes wondered why they had become such good friends over a life time, being so different, his friend had long since reflected over and solved this little mystery for himself, but also for both of them. And maybe today, his friend thought, Vito will come to understand the same thing. But if not, it didn’t matter. Vito lived by his instincts, and experience had given him trust in them, that they provided him with substance and happiness for his life. The reasons were not always that important for him.
A few more leaves rattled over the cobblestones, and the sunlight was gradually warming up the thin layer of air right above the ground, creating a slightly blurred field of vision as they looked at the fountain and then up at the church. They both loved autumn.

(This is from the opening of the story of the two old friends.)

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A Response..

Vito’s friend looked back: “Yes it is.”
They both sat there in peace and silence, the two old friends with a life long friendship between them. Vito’s life had been one of great travels and knowing thousands of people all embodied in himself, as he sat there as an old man. His friend was a more soft and thoughtful type, having a life of smaller movements and more subtle nuances and feelings in him, spread over the decades like a little mosaic of a calm landscape in modest colors. They were both sitting there, breathing slowly and watching the life of the piazza and the trees along one side, with branches hanging over the tables and chairs outside the coffee shops and restaurants.

(This is from the opening of the story of the two old friends.)

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Day 2


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A Friend

His friend was in some ways a bigger person, but seemingly with a smaller life on the outside. Even as they sat there on a bench on an early autumn morning in the sunshine, he was experiencing a much wider and richer moment of the piazza, than Vito could. To his friend the smallest little scene of an everyday activity could be almost limitless, in its reflections and impressions on him. It was more a question of managing the absorption and the associations, as each little impulse might set off a long stream of thoughts, activate long forgotten memories, and create a bustle of images and philosophical digressions, some of which were interesting and useful, some of which were new distractions, but that led him to other trains of thoughts.

(This is from the opening of the story of the two old friends.)

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A Morning Opens..

As the two old men sat down and looked at the piazza, one of them was about to say a few words and start what was going to be the dialogue of their lives. It was still early in the morning, not too warm but with a mild sunlight and a brisk wind. Some leaves were rattling over the cobblestone pavement of the square and a beautiful church was in front of them. They looked towards the fountain, and the streaming water coming out of the statues of the little angels.
A few people were walking over the square, on this late October day in 1885. The two friends found a comfortable sitting position, adjusting to each other as they had done for decades over a long life, and then looking again at the fountain in silence. It was a pleasant morning, and as their eyes crossed it felt like something different was going to happen. It was like a threshold that had been reached, and Vito smiled softly: “What a nice morning.”

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Day 1

Testing.. writing updates! 🙂

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Finally writing again.. after a little break for ten days. A bit over 600 words! Will try to make a little video-post tomorrow 😀

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