Trafika Europe 14 - Italian Piazza

Frank Iodice

I can’t get it done, I’d l ike it if you could get them back for me.” “I don’t understand, we barely know each other.” “You’l l understand,” I said. “If I’d cal led you, I wouldn’t have been sure you’d recognize me, I’d have said to you, I’m Mel i , Mel i Montreux, social worker at the chi ldren’s home in L’Escarène, that l ittle vi l lage in the hi l ls, and I’d have added, we knew each other when you worked there as a custodian, I accompanied you home the evening three of you were on duty, the eve of your departure, you spoke to me about your trip.” “What you didn’t tel l me,” I answered, “is that it was also the eve of your departure.” “I didn’t know it yet, when we spoke I didn’t know I would leave.” Mel i had a smal l voice that forced me to grip the receiver and bring it closer to my ear, therefore she was a porter of receivers. Whi le speaking I real ized that, even though it was I who’d made the cal l , it was she who was asking more questions. “The moment had come for me to leave France,” she continued, “to have new experiences, I’m twenty- three years old and I’ve never been out of the region! I intend to take a sabbatical year and go l ive in some other place, I don’t know where yet, nothing is set,

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