This is the last time I'll write about it.
There. Is done. I'm out of place. Far and desolate, has been empty for about 5 blocks from the redoubt which I learned to feel like home the last 5 years. In my heart you are 350 Roma Street Dept 202. I miss your charming trifle, your little bit steps to reach the wooden door to which I first entered this far in March 2006, without even imagining the whole gale of experiences that among those warm cream walls would go to. No joke, I became a man (or at least I made the great effort) within the building, inside the apartment that Ms. Rossi kindly rented. Great person her, and although we never establish ties too tight, I'm going to miss it with his family, and all other tenants and neighbors of the building. All cool, and always with a smile when greeting. I'm sure will be a long time to come back, walking and without any direct link for those round about you, not be far from the apartment they now occupy, which is why I feel so perhaps infinitely lost to me now.
If I think the image of what is now the 202 and all the intangibles deserted but footsteps on the wall of those posters, pictures or drawings so much life and color that gave us all these years of happy (yes, happy!) coexistence, it causes me to mourn because they instantly get the mental occurrence in my head, is felt by my soul as a sort of call.
calling the house, he claims. My old room-now letting listening, small bathroom, with its ancient and beautiful celestial mayolicas all, the workshop but workshop we served around the time of deposit or store tremendous amount of paintings, drawings and trinkets of all kinds; the kitchen where Silvia perfected master degrees exquisite way to make the chicken, I can assure you in the beginning all the beautiful Hallab and today I hear my parents criticize and find fault that until a few months ago seemed nignuno if you want to find. "That was very small and dark." Well, I fucking despise that affects what we already we are old! It seems to me well be referred to a material thing, the most ungrateful.
calling the house, the balcony, where I had to spend many memorable evenings and revealing those early months. The long, long corridor that wisely managed to preserve and protect our privacy at all times, especially when visiting some unexpected fall and one of us did not want to face. I remember especially the bottom of the corridor, with our self-portraits of first-year learning painting in college. I will always present in the tunnel of my memory. Because that is what was in the most real sense of the word that beautiful house. The shelter of two brothers art students, in whose home they were both heat intensity learning all the things life had to offer them early. In 202, my sister and I learned above all to discover the love away Home (Arequipa). And it was wonderful to have done simultaneously and together in a house that had all the freedom in the world to provide it with more genunio of our personalities. So what we want so much to this little apartment.
hundred stories of all kinds with my dear Maria José starred in the 202. Union. Friendship. Fraternity. Fights. Good days. Days of shit. Pain. Misunderstanding. Ira. Successes. Eloquence. Silence. Comfort. Objection. Problems. Distress. And above all, many, many, many laughs, the two of us alone and together all the people who once allowed into the core of our day to day the well of our most treasured secrets and starting point of our daily routine of leaving the world in this complicated city, however, has given us so much.
Surely, those who are still with us and were able to enjoy the warmth of the old house, when they meet this new site Porras Osores Street (even the name seems very cold compared to my beloved Roma ) will miss this place so magically ideal and perfect. So nice to be.
was the ideal site, and I repeat, every time I head back to the last image of moving in I had to abandon the old and look resigned depa to their fate, all calatito and now without any fucking accessory, decoration or item, only a bare trace of all the love ones we built there in recent years ... So I am truly sorry that this is not just a place to leave, but a friend, a great friend who kept his fucking pineapple cycle and can no longer serve us.
I'm sorry, nostalgia and longing for what is left and never returned. By words, actions and feelings in one's life is already predestined to happen only in a certain place and time which will never ever coming back, and therefore, also appears in me a melancholy face the fact that will never return to live in the same way the new developments that lie mysterious destiny.
Yes, I know I sound horribly redundant, but still not so obvious that logic and rational serves me comfort.
honestly feel I've left a big part of me in that department so dear, I can never find again. This creates a dilemma to me, considering I've always tended obsessively (and in vain) to try to collect and summarize all aspects and parts of myself in order to understand. Also, because I feel overwhelmed all those parts of me are always so scattered. So that affects me 'closing steps' that today has been with the goodbye to a place under whose roof sucite many intimate moments and fundamental. So.
Let me not thinking about the 202 of 350 in Rome, because every time I've made this day I have come the flashbacks of a piece of youth and flew. Lucky for me, I'm not old yet, but events like this to the move, I now generate a break I do not at all easy. Nor I is not easy to grow.
I will not go through Via Roma until this felt nostalgia I get at least a little more palatable. What time spent there damn cute!. Today I just hope it keeps in my new whereabouts, the old man is painting candy vendor who was "no doubt" the symbol and spirit of this magnificent mural period. At least while still living in Lima, I want the grandfather of candy with me and keep imposing and upright in the room where I go can not be otherwise, then!
Thousands upon thousands of memories, praying God would never undermine my good memory, although I can not re-live them, grabadísimos be forever in my head and my heart.
How beautiful and definitive time spent there dammit! Not enough words to me, pretty Romita Department 350 202, to finish in its full depth to explain what it means to me.
Now I just try to give you a chance to this new home, which despite all the apathy that now makes me sincerely (repeat, not in the name of the streets is no point of comparison!) Has been result of the efforts of my parents in their search for better opportunities for our family.
The new place is nice, really, but ... HEART THERE ARE THINGS THAT NO REASON UNDERSTAND.
I have time. To learn how to find me in my new redoubt, and to love, or otherwise disappear into absolute and irreversible depression of a personal nature to not feel adapted into a habitat too wealthy for my taste (which insurance would be considered by all country as a frivolity so great, or rather, like a slap in the face of poverty).
all I'm going to leave the Taita, just.
I'm gone for good. The worst thing is that we are not far away, dumb.
Beware dear home. I have no certainly you will also be ideal and perfect place to house and feed the illusions of dreams of your future tenants. I have no doubt that your rooms and passageways of vitality return to batter a new day. I dialed (with my sister) and have no idea. I wish to remain standing for long years, and if we ever managed to collect good little money, who knows, I give you a surprise, reconquistándote and adquiriéndote to live there with my Galatians.
'll love you forever my little house in Via Roma 350-202.
CHAU!
