24
Mag-2013

Giulia, Orosei, the 80’s – by Francesco Porcu (the end)

In my imagination her name was Giulia, like the song that kept playing tirelessly, like the car that brought her to me but that also took her away from me every evening.

Needless to say, I fell in love in such a way like only a teenager can do.

I kept staring at her, after all I didn’t have much to do while we all gather under the beach umbrella during the hottest hours. I remember the sun would burn you if you didn’t pay too much attention; the gray matter would boil like water in the pot when it’s time to cook the pasta. They were endless afternoons, my mother sitting right in the middle of the round shadow of the umbrella, placed on the chair like Sitting Bull since her fair Nordic skin was quite sensitive to the sun and would burned, leaving my sisters and I fighting for a strip of shade at the edge of it. My father didn’t care and spent the entire day in the sun like a lizard, such that at the end of the vacation he had achieved the same color of an aborigine.

Thankfully, she was there, my beautiful blond dream, but I had to be very careful not to get caught by my sisters or they would have made fun of me for the rest of the summer. Later on I found out Giulia used to leave near by our home, close to Piazza di Sant’Antonio, a village that looked like a conquistadores colony, almost a different town inside Orosei: I thought of it a sign, fate was on my side: it wanted us to be together.

We were staying in one of Cristolu’s homes, one of the two pizza makers. He was the one who sweated the most; he couldn’t’ go unnoticed walking around the tables in the evenings looking for compliments for his Sardinian pizza made with garlic and pecorino cheese, sweating like a fountain and staring at you with those protruding eyes which made him look like a frog.

The summer gloomily went by while I patiently waited for a chance to talk to Giulia. Lying on my towel on the beach, while reading heavy books that I used to get from the home library, from The Karamazov Brothers to Moby Dick, my brain kept plotting the most absurd things. I dreamt of the day she finally realized I was the man of her life, I dreamt of her suddenly getting up to come to me and proclaim her love, or again that she joined me in the water and passionately kissed me or even that she tried to befriended my sister in order to get to me.

Sometime I thought I would find her in Sassari, where I imagined she lived and like in those implausible black and white movies, she would have fallen at my feet, finally understanding that she could no love any other man but me.

In reality, our vacation ended without me finding the courage to talk to her; on the other hand she never noticed me since I was too ugly and too shy.

I would never seen her again, even if we kept going to Orosei, several times in the coming years. I did find a disfigured town though, raped by tourism industry. I did see her friend with her dark and short family, which always went back there on vacation, but not even a trace of her.

Few days ago I heard that song again: Giulia. I had forgotten about it, I had not listen to it in a very long time. It was like boarding a time machine, my thoughts going back to her immediately, the memories coming back to life like if thirty years had not gone by, What has life been for my blond Giulia and where is she now?

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