It 's always nice to know Italy from a train window ... Maybe on a secondary line, as advised in a monologue the great Marco Paolini.
then I present this short text, written directly on the road ...
'E' in low dawn Verona.
The blue sky and bright, warm light, the Venetian foothills that frame these endless stretches of land.
Railway secondary "iron 50" , the smell of oil, smoke, oil stains scattered on the sleepers. In curves, missed the "todescaden" wheel jumping on the juncture of the rails.
"Biiiip - Psss, blocking ports.
Al block go "shouts the CT, sleepy, back in the cabin.
" Pssss - TSSS "precise, as a sniper's rifle, the solenoid shifter and clutch.
He gets up in the choir singing of the two 14-liter Fiat decided, bad, like a rugby team before the World Cup final.
The Turbocharger starts screaming and the needle of the rev counter seems to be unstoppable.
You gain speed quickly, in an orgy of smoke, sound and sprint.
The landscape slips away quickly from the window while I dream of being there at the bench to lead this amazing band called 668. "
Baschirotto Fabio
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