It 's true: the big do not understand.
C 'is a magical place, where things are not what they seem, where objects are changing, becoming something else. Harry Potter has recently discovered his "Room of Requirement", but us girls than forty years ago, we discovered then, our part of the fairy world, and this place was called "Down there."
The secret of "Down there" did not know it all, no, the big saw him occasionally went there, but do not "understand". They saw only a small yard, which is accessed by a narrow corridor between two houses, right on the door of a latrine, because at that time did not exist in case the bathroom, and immediately after, a patch of sand (latrine cats at home), and the garbage bins. Left, a short ladder alongside a rusty railing, leading to the cellar, four wooden doors with huge locks, but always open.
"Down there" was our kingdom. One day could be the old west, and half an hour later transformed into the Amazon jungle, an oasis in the desert or in downtown New York. In the cellar, the source inexhaustible treasure, finding time to time the approach to new adventure, like the time ....
The summer was at its peak, the sun melted the words, people were holed up in the cool of the houses, even the flies seemed tired of flying ... but not us: we burn in the heat of August, there were refugees in the cellar, looking for some idea to spend the sleepy afternoon. Rummaging in a box, we found ourselves in his hands ... a fantastic set of irons surgeon! In fact, if he had watched an adult, would have seen only a handful of rusty screwdrivers, but since we were "down there", these had become in our hands. With the silent consent of the wine cellars, which were offered as our patients, we began our work by experienced surgeons, with wisdom and method, within an hour the doors were transformed into magnificent works of art of the tunnel.
Al Clonk Clonk stick of his uncle Joseph, interrupting our work, to run meetings and exhibitions, enthusiastic, our splendid work. My uncle had one leg, we do not seppimo girls never had lost the other, leaning on a sturdy walking stick, and was a shoemaker, and every morning, my grandmother wore off junction table and the bench: the uncle you sat down and mending shoes, felt all around the smell of tar and leather. When he did not sew shoes, he went fishing in the Ticino, and then you could smell the fried fish. Every now and then sent us to do some errands for him, then gave us 10 pounds each, but not the time they sent us to buy the maggots for fishing ... but that's another story.
When he saw our work, ran out of words (of course)! The doors were pierced most of crocheted doilies Mrs Luigina, and they were really spectacular. ... But you know, the big do not understand. Shaking his head crushed, turned on his heels, or rather, on the heel, and went to call for reinforcements, which arrived on time, in the persons of his father and grandmother. Once again, the adults showed that they did not "see" our talent, but above all the commitment that we demonstrated in this delicate work, so after a formal lecture, we were evicted from the magical and sent to church, to ruminate on our terrible sins.
Conscious of our faults, we went out in the sun with his head bowed, loose pigtails and a single gesture between us. ... From our pockets came the magic screwdrivers, accidentally stolen ... .. Where do we go?
C 'is a magical place, where things are not what they seem, where objects are changing, becoming something else. Harry Potter has recently discovered his "Room of Requirement", but us girls than forty years ago, we discovered then, our part of the fairy world, and this place was called "Down there."
The secret of "Down there" did not know it all, no, the big saw him occasionally went there, but do not "understand". They saw only a small yard, which is accessed by a narrow corridor between two houses, right on the door of a latrine, because at that time did not exist in case the bathroom, and immediately after, a patch of sand (latrine cats at home), and the garbage bins. Left, a short ladder alongside a rusty railing, leading to the cellar, four wooden doors with huge locks, but always open.
"Down there" was our kingdom. One day could be the old west, and half an hour later transformed into the Amazon jungle, an oasis in the desert or in downtown New York. In the cellar, the source inexhaustible treasure, finding time to time the approach to new adventure, like the time ....
The summer was at its peak, the sun melted the words, people were holed up in the cool of the houses, even the flies seemed tired of flying ... but not us: we burn in the heat of August, there were refugees in the cellar, looking for some idea to spend the sleepy afternoon. Rummaging in a box, we found ourselves in his hands ... a fantastic set of irons surgeon! In fact, if he had watched an adult, would have seen only a handful of rusty screwdrivers, but since we were "down there", these had become in our hands. With the silent consent of the wine cellars, which were offered as our patients, we began our work by experienced surgeons, with wisdom and method, within an hour the doors were transformed into magnificent works of art of the tunnel.
Al Clonk Clonk stick of his uncle Joseph, interrupting our work, to run meetings and exhibitions, enthusiastic, our splendid work. My uncle had one leg, we do not seppimo girls never had lost the other, leaning on a sturdy walking stick, and was a shoemaker, and every morning, my grandmother wore off junction table and the bench: the uncle you sat down and mending shoes, felt all around the smell of tar and leather. When he did not sew shoes, he went fishing in the Ticino, and then you could smell the fried fish. Every now and then sent us to do some errands for him, then gave us 10 pounds each, but not the time they sent us to buy the maggots for fishing ... but that's another story.
When he saw our work, ran out of words (of course)! The doors were pierced most of crocheted doilies Mrs Luigina, and they were really spectacular. ... But you know, the big do not understand. Shaking his head crushed, turned on his heels, or rather, on the heel, and went to call for reinforcements, which arrived on time, in the persons of his father and grandmother. Once again, the adults showed that they did not "see" our talent, but above all the commitment that we demonstrated in this delicate work, so after a formal lecture, we were evicted from the magical and sent to church, to ruminate on our terrible sins.
Conscious of our faults, we went out in the sun with his head bowed, loose pigtails and a single gesture between us. ... From our pockets came the magic screwdrivers, accidentally stolen ... .. Where do we go?
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