The Polish duck

It was love at first sight.

As soon as I saw her I was conquered. I say. Rapt. Subjugated.

The duck was mine. At all costs.

It was like I had imagined, dreamed, I thought it would be a duck.

The round eye with the pupil of a small dark blue as the ocean depths, gave an intensity to the vibrant look that seemed to sniff the wind through the routes heavenly.

The tapered neck faded imperceptibly from Prussian blue feathers around the head vivid elegant, until lost in the yellow-gold ring that surrounded all around the attack on the tapered head.

Ready to glide over woods and hills, to fly over stormy seas and mountains without end, to deal with storms and whirlwinds the duck was there and looked at me. It may seem trivial or even childish, if you want, but at that moment I was sure that the duck I smiled.

Certainly not a broad smile, total and that may eventually become vulgar, not suitable for a subject so noble and elegant. But a knowing smile, just mentioned. A beginning of a smile able to establish itself as the premise, the beginning, start, l'begins. You could say with probable ability to assert the true. Of a relationship, a deeper connection.

The duck was smiling at me.

And I knew that it was a signal, the first act of a secret code, the firm understanding that had already established between us at first sight as soon as I saw.

This feeling, gratified me more than I ever have supposed, was cut short by the intervention of the Seller that with his attitude immediately irritated me. There were in his way of doing, false, subtle acceptance of its role, precisely what the Seller against me. For him, in his insane psychology, I had to play the other end of the system, the buyer.

My sudden irritation, Immediate, almost a chemical reaction, a kind of physical discomfort, grew enormously when the Seller, in a tone that was meant to be smooth but that to me seemed disgusting, said: "The gentleman is perhaps interested in something special?".

The question to me not a little annoyed. It was as if my party I had seen enough so he could afford me the game of cat and mouse.

No doubt he had taken on the role of the Cat.

I therefore touched on the role of the Rat.

And since the world began, how do you say, the cat eats the Rat. Quite right. Verissimo. But if the Rat was found to be more cunning then, Smarter, smarter Cat?

Then ensure that the game would be interesting.

I almost had read my mind the Seller-Cat made another move that he had to be decisive. In the sense that would give our relationship a footprint as he had thought it would be.

"May I suggest something? Lord ... ".

The last word: Lord had been pronounced after a short break in the first sentence.

And I seemed to grasp the tone with which it was pronounced the word: Lord, a touch of ironic. An attempt to tease. In my heart I decided it had to be rejected at all costs.

So I prepared to answer hard-nosed, how do you say. Soon after, however, it occurred to me that, if I showed irritation or worse if I appeared worse affected or offended, I encouraged my interlocutor. Instead I had to keep calm. And this also meant that I felt, and in fact I was superior to him.

So, I prepared a tone that was supposed to be casual, detached. As if in a theater scene the young actor must just say: "Dinner is served", and quiet without emphasis, without underscores why it is a joke that has no value, no sense in the whole affair that the other actors are interpreting, yes they responsible for mating, hate, supporters logical or lovers of words and gestures, then feelings, turned to my interlocutor said: "I maybe interested duck".

While these proferivo that seemed innocent, so important because without any, I glanced sideways at my duck by the neck and blue eye round and vivid. It seemed even more beautiful.

The Vendor-Cat seemed slightly baffled by my exit, from my line so that, with the air of nothing.

I realized that my attitude had surprised him. And the surprise had created discomfort and perhaps disappointment.

In The Meantime, because he had not planned my exit. And it was a hypothesis can.

And Then, Asthe my feeling shifted the terms of the relationship that was establishing between him and me, between the Seller and the Buyer-Cat-Mouse and postponed the whole thing to a conclusion that for the moment there was visible.

The reaction was immediate.

The tone was still sneaky, mellifluo. He wanted to be eye-catching but could honeyed and seemed genuinely unbearable.

"Maybe, The Lord has in mind a duck in particular?".

I jumped inside me for so direct with whom he was able to understand my intentions but mostly because he had aimed straight for the purpose.

Of course I did not give in any way the impression of being in trouble. Woe if I did. I would definitely at his mercy. And that I could not accept it for no reason.

Before answering looked carefully my interlocutor. My also wanted to be an attitude of defiance. Tantamount to let him know: fine, you understood what I want. But I always have to run the show. So there you manage it.

The hair slicked straight and were definitely dyed. As it followed by some nuances that mingled an obscene reddish color until black strands along the neck. Even with that they wanted to be flirty but not because they were too thick, were dyed. Therefore, the man she dyed her hair and mustache. Why Is That?

For a moment I had to smile to the idea that my partner every morning, after brushing your teeth and rinse your mouth with some gargles, then it was going to dye your hair and mustache.

How was the operation?

Strove maybe a toothbrush? Maybe nail hair and teeth for mustaches? And then, what kind of dye strove? An 'idea flashed like a sudden flash. Maybe, used shoe polish. But some. It was just the kind that uses shoe polish, as you do for horses winded in village fairs.

But some. And how come I never thought of before? That's who was the seller-Cat.

A horse trader.

A horse trader maybe stolen as do the gypsies and then turn them to the nines with the flaws most unlikely. And wear makeup teeth, gait, the upright position of the head, straight ears.

A seller of horses who wanted to compete with me. It would be seen as ended all.

The other party was there, waiting for my answer.

I decided to play too remittance, how do you say.

I would take a jab straight to the big target as if it were a fencing match. nothing fake, but a parade of third and then off the chest.

Bearing this in mind I said all in one breath: "I'd like to take a close look at that duck".

And with his arm I pointed to my duck.

The man approached. He stood for a moment to observe it. Then took it with the big hand adorned with rings. He grabbed all the agile body and brought it to me.

"And 'one of the finest", said ... "The Lord, added, has very good taste ".

And he smiled, exposing a row of brown teeth. Maybe the man was chewing tobacco.

I grabbed my turn the duck. I looked at her with love and interest with smug satisfaction.

After the blue neck that ended in the ring yellow gold, the feathers of delicate round body but aerodynamic profile, taking a gray variegated until white.

A clarity that he found himself in the wings which started from the joints of the body as an extension essential and needed. Destined to mark there that size and in no, the boundary between the motion and stasis. Between being motionless waiting for the liberating flight and the first breath of wind that heralded the rains of autumn, the time to migrate.

The duck was my.

The carezzavo. The palpavo. I felt it vibrate in the deepest fibers.

Wish it had lasted longer possible meaning, the sense of foreplay. But the excitement had prevailed on logical calculations of the forecast.

"I take this", I said hastily.

The Vendor-Cat smiled with teeth brown.

"It 'a perfect choice", said. "It 'Polish duck, remember ".

I muttered a thank distracted and hasty.

Pagai e mi allontanai.

I had my duck.

The Vendor-Cat not had it made with the Buyer-Topo.

I had been the cleverest, the smartest.

The Mouse had escaped the clutches of the Cat. Had subverted predictions and forecasts. Perhaps he had opened a new reality of relationship ties. Behaviors. A reality from which they could possibly derive fundamental changes, decisive.

But more important than any other consideration I seemed to me that for which I was in possession of my duck. Polish duck and you had to have it now accommodation.

It is undoubtedly a duck city. I thought.

And then that would make a duck in town? Poggiofranco certainly was the great common garden but just for its size seemed to me that my duck could go astray, lost in a flower bed and the other, getting involved by the people who sometimes crowded the garden.

Better Palese. Certainly. A Palese the duck would have enjoyed more freedom than those in Poggiofranco. He could smell the change of the winds, mistral Crescent, from north to south wind and find the paths and routes of his trips. A Palese.

And so it was. For some days the duck from the blue and yellow neck remained at home. I did not know how and where to place it. Moreover it seemed important to find the most suitable way to make her feel at ease. It warned that the duck all this you could tell that remained quiet in the conscious pending decisions concerning it.

It was the moment of choice.

It was by chance.

The mistral was blowing strong rippling sea since the horizon. The foam came ashore more and more impetuous with high splashes which soon began to exceed the height of the boulders at the foot of the quay.

The strong wind ruffling the foliage of tamarisk entrance of the villa and ruffling the green leaves of young poplars.

It was then that the Polish duck, located on the edge of the wall on which towered a large pot of cement, cement, began to flap its wings.

Flitted slowly at first as if it were an attempt to fly, of a test, of an experiment. Then faster and faster on the heels and along the mysterious and invisible paths wind.

The Polish duck with the motion of his great wings that found themselves the gusts of wind, seemed to want to combine, offer together, elegance and intense vitality. A Look at it it remained fascinated. Sometimes he stopped suddenly as if he were waiting for some kind of event.

Talaltra, the rustle of the branches of poplar announced a more impetuous gust of others and was the signal, Notice that you could leave for another flight, for another destination.

The elegance of the lines, the charm of the whole, the intensity of the gaze, whole body leaning in the effort to soar, constituted a unique set that I got tired of watching and consider.

As if she understood all this duck, happened then that would turn, now in a direction, Now to another. And it was not just to satisfy the whims of the wind, the unstable and restless of the rising mists swirl sweeping sea and mists, As to state a clear desire for choice, an innate ability to judgment that the routes to be addressed also belonged to a specific plan, a clear plan. The design and the plan that I had chosen the Polish duck and no other of her companions.

The weeks and months passed quickly that summer I lived more intensely in the relationship that I had made with my duck.

I found myself in the most unexpected moments to go with the mind to her. What was he doing at the time? What direction would take with her whims of the wind?

One day I accepted the challenge that I had seemed to read in his eyes. The swimming season and the scorching sun had now passed. Had begun after the rains of summer and some rain was accompanied by thunder and fusimi.

The show of lightning sea fascinated me and I remained for a long time behind the shutter to wait for sea horizon could be created or contours of lightning in all their expressive richness of signs.

Fell from the sky lightning.

Rumoreggiavano i Demise, now far, Now neighbors according to the course of the storm.

It was pouring with rain.

The duck was left in its place. She had not moved despite the downpour, almost in a gesture of defiance to bad weather, a total bet with herself.

Occasionally wings hinted some startup motorcycle. But perhaps the rain, perhaps for a precise choice and decided to duck tarried, where he was.

She feared for a moment with concern that the duck had suffered damage to the pouring rain and the wet. Ali, indeed, had only a few jolt.

But my anxiety was dispelled by the worried look that was always intense and eye alive. The color of the feathers on the body was always vivid.

My duck would not let me.

Were other bad weather. But now he was sure that nothing would happen.

With my Polish duck I made extraordinary and fascinating travel along the routes that only birds know.

We traveled from the forests of Poland up to the Tatra mountains. We rested on the lakes of Croatia. Then, after crossing the Adriatic, we paused on the lagoon of Lesina and Varano. One more step towards Corfu and other Greek islands. Island hopping up to Crete and then the big leap to the mountains of Lebanon.

How many adventures. How many meetings and how many dangers faced.

L’anitra polacca dal collo lungo e dalle grandi ali è di nuovo a Palese. And 'round. Maybe, never move. Maybe you should ask. But I dare not. It might take offense. Then, better not, pretending nothing.

The Polish duck is also ready tonight for a new flight. So what. Why me smile. But it must be said.

Yesterday he came to see his grandson Michael.

"What u doing, grandfather?"I asked.

"I'm looking at the Polish duck flying".

"But it's wood".

"What so".