Rome, mid August,
After last year’s total lunar eclipse in February, this year another eclypse will take place, but it will be partial. The day and time of the event will make it easy to witness.
Now it’s 12 o’clock. It’s hot. Davide is about to move off. Off! From now on the habitual domestic sounds will not bounce off the walls of his flat, which now does not belong to him anymore.
Before he shuts the door behind him, he listens to the faint electric buzzing noises being absorbed by the walls. They dissolve in the air - the circuit is now open. The residual water pressure makes the tap drip, and the sound articulates the alibi for the future mouldy rooms.
Davide gives in to his nature, which once again overcomes him. He scans the things around him, his remaining possessions in that place, and imagines what will be there in a distant future.
In his baggage there is still enough room for the things he may forget. His brown eyes focus on a portion of space beyond the closed door, as his hand, which carries the weight of the bags, turns the key in the lock: tack tatàk, double lock.
Memories like flashback. He will draw them, he will make the identikits. Later, when even the name of his street will be forgotten, they will take him back on the way home.
Once again, he will be away.
The sun, snake-like, will crawl among the yellow palazzi until it reaches the balcony in the quartiere africano, it will filter silently through the chinks, it will sensitize the silverware on the walls, it will draw on the wall the planetarium which was his home, and only then it will suddenly stop.