The sweltering heat forbids me to sleep, I switch from one terrace to another, without finding refreshment.
Looking at the sky, I can not even count the stars have all gone under the hood of heat that does not breathe. Here come the thoughts, I knew! The memories are those that afflict me most and I hammer in the brain. I figured I'd just vacated the my gray cells, they would immediately ran to her memory. Who knows why, I am reminded of this sad parentheses in my life from college, and now that my sister is gone and even more sad and melancholy.
was passed just a few months since we were coming from far-off Sicily. The College of Como era for two of us (my sister and I) had a new experience to us both bewildered. One morning after breakfast, we were in the courtyard waiting for the call to get everyone in their classrooms. I as usual looked out of the small elementary school to see my sister, I was reassured to see it all day. There was! I started looking around and not see it anywhere. Instinctively, I looked at what were the windows of the dormitory and saw her there! Behind the glass crying and desperate. Something of the white covered his beautiful brown curls. I ran out of the running yard, climb the four steps four, I entered the dorm and I could see through the glass. I called her and when she turned, I realized that what we had in mind were her panties, I asked her what had happened and she tearfully told me that he had put them to him in the head nun still wet, because she had peed him, to torment you before the other girls. It was diperata shame. I hugged her trying to comfort her. Anger, even the tremendous anger that came over me, I can not describe the impulse was to beat arrogant and silly nun, who among other things was also small and ugly, but I could not, I threatened to make them dislike even more my little eyes you've had the wrong like me, be Southern. That episode, I've never forgotten, nor my sister. In all my years of college, it never turned the floor to the nun, who called himself a servant of the Lord, but it was bad and highly racist and did not scruple to point it out and when he said, had that little laugh from stupid that made me so angry. That memory el 'bitter mortification of that sweet little angel, her beautiful eyes full of tears that shone throughout his despair and sadness, especially now that there is more, it still makes me cry tears and makes me look that bad chapter in our life, even more sad and full of melancholy! I try to erase those bitter moments, because I know that I still do evil, but it is not easy, sometimes by a corner of my memory back, and I remember them, as if it happened yesterday.
Sure maybe a punishment to teach is fine, but mortifying that way so bad, a child of six years and more in a new environment, away from his habits and his country, I did not then and not designed even conceive of now!
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