Nemo Blog

Here serve one of those rooms aseptic: white walls, blue vinyl floor, a blackboard, a cabinet gray and anonymous, a fortnight of white chairs arranged in a circle. Serve one of those unbearable odors, typical of the hospital or centers of analysis. Serve a psychologist and brutticella quite frustrated. Serve a diverse group of people linked only by a defect, all accommodate heavily on chairs arranged in a circle.
After that, I could get up beautifully and, with her eyes fixed on an unspecified floor, I could exclaim (with little desire to do so, however):
"Hello ... My name is Antonio."
A chorus overwhelmed me.
"Ciaaao, Antonio."
And I continue, contemptuous of the ridiculous:
"... And I have a problem."
The psychologist I set with the same look that reserve each day to eat a sandwich that table:
"We are here for this, Antonio."
When I say my name, the crowd accent. She does it on purpose, to make me understand that my previous sentence is almost as obvious that I call Antonio twenty-five years. But I do not follow and I will not be starting a needless controversy.
"Well ... two days do not just eat and gulp."
My friends therapy, until then positioned with the chin resting on her chest, turn your head shooting in my direction. For some fraction of a second, my mind sharp in the scene of a dozen elephants lazy from the sun that is turning toward me. The wrinkles of the neck is twisted and my companions of misfortune is rocking on chairs, starting to laugh. The first was a laughing fat, one of those laughs that exude fat particles. He began to sneer, then moves tastes of a laugh. Then jams, cough and, while trying to reappropriate its own laugh, almost spiral. Another requires carburetor but as soon as the march gears, it is a pleasure to see him laugh. I feel like a fuscello of ficus benjamina among a group of sequoias. Laugh, shake the branches, leaving it on chairs and I worry: two or three of them will be very difficult to rebound, they fall on the floor. A mixture of nausea and sweeps me happiness. So now they come out from this room believing much more fat than you actually are not, but happy to have spent a good half hour to laugh taste of its defects.
The psychologist is holding the soul.
"Antonio, you have a serious problem for which you want to talk?"
The watch, watch the salah Ilaria, flexes muscles and are in a vacuum:
"Yes. I eat a lot and not fattening. "
Odo few hiccups. Two sentences are enough to make them move from happiness to despair. I feel a monster.

This article was published Monday, 12 May 2008 at 15:52 and classified in Milazzo. You can follow comments to this article through the RSS 2.0. You can submit a comment or make a trackback from your site.