that this place is a of the many wonderful stories of Dino Buzzati, part of the collection "the collapse of baliverna. I decided to post this story because, for me, for years has been an obsession!
all started in eighth grade when the teacher gave us to read photocopies of the house with this story printed. the task was to make one of those stupid things that make you hate literature: write the ending! I remember clearly that, for me it was so perfect, that would have crippled by ending it. I remember thinking that this story was delightful, which was not touched at one of its commas!
not made the task Home and did not even answer the questions, the following day the teacher gave to do in class. things like: "What for you is the train that runs to the place from which all run away?". I refused, but just to be subversive, but because I did not know what to say ... but I did not even say why I could not! also taken a note ... well ... neither the first nor the last in my school career! :)
whatever ... I did not know what to say ... There was a reason!
is a complete idiocy groped to rationalize totally abandons plot. This story is feeling. is nothing but feeling. perfectly interwoven between these lines there is anxiety. this is terror, panic, loss ... the most comprehensive real or interior, that is.
is a metaphor for something else unspeakable, the end itself, does not want to be the moral of the story! this is not a fairy tale.
but does not end here ... Time passed and I forgot the story. from time to time, at night, but ... I dreamed of me. I dreamed this story. not in a conscious way (I did not know to dream Buzzati), sometimes more and sometimes less clearly, but I dreamed the same feeling that causes me to read this story.
came to me the desire to read it again, but I had forgotten the author and title, I was therefore impossible to find him. I asked him not around much and it went in my fading memory, although, again, sometimes I dream.
few days ago, our Gugly gave me to read a collection of stories, just Buzz. Many of them had already read the first and second ... more like "the Colombrita ... a bit 'here and there. to arrive at page 175 ... something ... something, in fact, happened to me!
I could read again after 5 years the ridiculous story that had bothered me so much!
was a great pleasure to be able to get back in your hands! I'm happy! :)))
Leggetevela here ......
I assure you that it's worth it!
Besos! :)
The train had traveled only a few kilometers (and the road was long, we would stop only at the distant destination station, it ran for ten hours straight) at a level crossing when the window I saw a young woman. It was a case, I could look at so many other things instead gaze fell on her that was not beautiful nor pleasant shape, really had nothing extraordinary, for some reason I happened to watch it. It was obviously leaning on the bar to enjoy the view of our train, superdirettissimo expressed North, a symbol for those uneducated people, billion, an easy life, adventurous, beautiful leather bags, celebrities, movie stars, once a day this wonderful show, and absolutely free too.
But as the train passes in front of her did not look on our side (but was there to wait maybe an hour) but kept his head turned back while making sure that a man came running from the bottom of the street and shouted something that we naturally we could not hear, as if in a rush accorresse to warn women of a hazard. But it was a moment: the scene flew away, and here I was wondering what trouble could be reached, by man, the girl came to contemplate. And I was about to fall asleep to the rhythmic swaying of the car when by chance - certainly it was a mere combination - I saw a farmer standing on a wall that name was called into the country becoming a spokesman of the hands. It was once again a moment because the direct way but I was spinning in time to see six or seven people who came through the fields, crops, alfalfa, no matter if stepped on, had to be something very important. Who came from different directions from one house, some of the hole of a hedge and those from a row of vines or something, to direct all muriccioio above with the young caller. They ran, damn if they ran, they would be frightened by any such warning sudden terribly curious about them, removing them the peace of life. But it was a moment, I repeat, a flash, there was no time for further comments.
How strange, I thought, a few kilometers in two cases of people who already receives an unexpected news, at least I assumed so. Now, vaguely influenced, scanning the countryside, roads, hamlets, farms, and presentation and anxiety. Perhaps
depended on this special state of mind, but most watched people, farmers, carters, etc., the more I felt there was an unusual animation everywhere. But yes, because quell'andirivieni in the courts, anxious women, those wagons, cattle that? Wherever it was the same. Because of the speed was impossible to distinguish good and yet I could have sworn it was the same case everywhere. Did you celebravan festivals in the area? That men have to reach the market? But the train went, and the country were all in turmoil, judging from the crowds. So I put the woman in relation to the level crossing, the young man on the wall, the comings and goings of the peasants: something had happened on the train and we knew nothing about.
I looked at the fellow travelers in the compartment, those standing in the hallway. They did not realize. They seemed calm and a lady about sixty years before me was about to fall asleep. Or is suspected? Yes, yes, even their were restless, one by one, and they dared not speak. More than once he caught them, turning his eyes sudden, gazes out. Especially the lady sleepy, she, peering between the eyelids and then I immediately checked if I had never been exposed. But they were afraid?
Naples. Here the train usually stops. Not today, the direct way. Marched hugging us the old houses and courtyards and dark we saw the lighted windows in those rooms - was a moment - men and women bent to make bundles and close bags, so it seemed. Or maybe I was mistaken and they were all fantasies?
were preparing to leave. Where? Not an auspicious news so electrified the city and countryside. A threat, a danger, a warning of dogs. Then I thought, but if there was big trouble, they would have done well to stop the train and the train but found everything in order, ever-clear, perfect trade, as a maiden voyage.
A young man at my side, looking to stretch, he had risen to his feet. Actually wanted to see better and bent over me to be closer to the glass. Outside, the countryside, the sun, the dirt roads and street carts, trucks, groups of people on foot, long caravans to shrines such as those that draw on the day of the patron. But there were so many, more and more dense as the train approached the north. And they all had the same direction, down about noon, were fleeing the danger while we are going directly to the meeting, mad speed we rushed to war, revolution, pestilence, fire, what could ever be? We would not have known that in five hours, upon arrival, and perhaps it was too late.
Nobody said anything. Nobody wanted to be the first to succumb. Each perhaps doubted him, as I did, if all the uncertainty quell'allarme was real or simply an idea crazy hallucination, one of those absurd thoughts that arise in the train when it was a little tired. The lady in front sighed, pretending to have awakened, as if coming out of sleep and looks mechanical lever, so she raised her eyes fixing them, almost by chance, to handle the alarm signal. And we all looked the bomb, with the same thought. But no one spoke or had the audacity to break the silence or simply dared to ask others if they had noticed out of something alarming.
Now the streets were swarming with vehicles and people, all the way to the south. Regurgitant trains that we were meeting. Astounded eyes of those who saw us go from the ground, flying in such a hurry to the north. And wedges stations. Somebody did mention, we were screaming the other phrases which you feel only the vowels as echoes of the mountains.
Mrs. in front began to stare at me. With hands full of jewels tinker a fazzo1etto nervously and meanwhile his eyes begged: speak, finally, they rise from the silence, you say the question that everyone expected as a grace and no one dared to do it first.
Here's another city. As the train entered the station, slowed down a little, got up two or three not resisting the hope that the driver stop. Instead he went, roaring turbines along the docks where a crowd restless yearning huddled in a convoy departed, including chaotic piles of luggage. A little boy tried to chase with a packet of papers and waved a black who had a great headline on the front page. Then with a sudden gesture, the lady in front of me leaned out, grabs the paper was able to race but the wind snatched it away. Between the fingers remained a fragment. I noticed that his hands trembled in the act of explaining it. It was a triangular piece. You read the title and the large head only four letters. ION, it said. Nothing more. On the back, indifferent news stories.
Without words, the lady got a little snippet that everyone could see. But everyone had already watched. And they pretended not to notice. Growing fear, stronger in each check that was done. To something that ends in G we ran like crazy, and had to be horrendous if, at the news, whole populations were given to immediate flight. A new fact powerful and had broken the life of the country, men and women thought only to save himself, leaving behind homes, jobs, business, everything, but our train no, the damn train was marching with the regularity of clockwork, the way the soldier's honest dating military defeat in the crowd to reach his trench where the enemy is already camping out. For decency, a respect for human misery, none of us had the courage to react. Oh how the trains look like life!
was two hours. In two hours, on arrival, we learned the common fate. Two hours, one and a half hour, already down in the dark. We saw from afar that the lights of our city and longed for their property a yellow splendor reverberant alone in the sky we gave back a gulp of courage. The locomotive whistled, the wheels rattle in the labyrinth of trade. The station, the black curve of the roofs, the flash-lamps, signs, everything was fine as usual.
But, horror!, The even went very direct and I saw that the station was deserted, empty and bare the docks, not a human figure as you wanted. The train stopped at last. We ran down the sidewalk, toward the exit, the hunt for some of our similar. I seemed to see, in the right corner at the bottom, a bit 'in the shadows, a railway worker with his berrettuccio who eclipsed by a door, as terrified. What happened? In the city we would not find a soul? As long as the voice of a woman, very high and violent like a shotgun, gave us a thrill.
"Help, help!" Screaming and cry was echoed in the vitreous times with the empty sounds of places abandoned forever.
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