![]() ![]() Despite the generous “tips” of a father who was practically never at home, soon after John, having reached the age of thirty, he closed relations with him because of too many differences of opinion about his future, which actually after his psychology studies facts could not be in the oil sector but this was unacceptable to his father. He was very attached to money, to which, moreover, when he was young he had not given too much importance, perhaps because he had been extensively fortified by his father, a wealthy Texan businessman whose refinery supplied the state with more than 5 million liters of gasoline and diesel at day. He had loved many women, and he had never cut bridges with anyone, probably so as not to hurt them on the other hand he had always made himself well liked by everyone, and perhaps for this very reason he had never married. That flash had quelled his thoughts for a moment he had always been pleased with the meaningfulness of his choices, at least those really well chosen, and with his own good taste, without hiding it publicly. His hearing wanted to focus on every drop above the high-grade steel, Ford quality of the glorious years, while the visual could distinguish the yellow glow coming from one of the building’s windows, a yellow watercolor from the rain that seemed to trickle slowly on the windshield it was Lucy, her collaborator, a tireless researcher whom he, a bit skeptical initially, had enlisted in his team. The ticking of the drops that beat on the roof of his ’68 Ford Mustang, perceived after a few seconds of inner silence namely when that zeroing had taken over, that mental detachment from the world external to that intimacy, it had sunk him into a lethargic state where, having got into the car at three o’clock in the afternoon, and started the powerful V8 engine as usual, he could have moved from the campus parking lot even many minutes later, such he was overwhelmed by his thinking. ( introductory soundtrack ) Professor Smith had been staring for at least ten minutes at the windshield wipers which with that typical hypnotic movement opened a gap of visibility in the midst of that late-winter rain «For me it is so relaxing» he repeated whenever his colleagues pointed to their impatience with it instead.įor him, on the contrary, it was inspirational, it gave a crossroads of thoughts, often resolutive of problems that on a beautiful sunny day would not have found a glimpse of unravelment. ![]()
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