Record Propellerhead Dongle Emulator

My name Ibou, Makhtar, Bassirou, Ousseynou ...

'm the tall one, as massive as a marble column that blocks the passage at the local, that are as thin as a reed, in light Armani suit and glasses, always charming ... and indeed, are roly-poly with the eyes smart and well-kept hands, everybody's friend, and what are looking a bit 'dumb, all muscle, very dark black, looked grim.

I Corso Como in the bouncer, I have the best job you could want to make money, who wants to enter must be my friend and my friend it's about money, who wants to know ask me, who goes in search of gossip comes to me, who wants to live the night must necessarily pass by me - are not powerful .. I know .. I have no money ...

I have all the women I want.

All bouncers, in Corso Como are Senegalese.

if steps not recognize me there, we all look the same at first glance and it's okay, what matters is not your first glance, but ours.

My dream was to get married and have a family, a family of Europe, a European wife, I find it very elegant, the German - but I do not know why after a couple of years of living together is always out of something wrong: the final did not want to get married and did not want children, a particular bureaucratic insignificant, he said, but I do not see the sense of a living if you do not get married at some point.

So I left.

I went back to live alone, my house is well appointed with trendy style learned from a lot of friends, work at night, rest in the morning, some commission, a book, a movie at afternoon.

At one point I realized I have forty years, had not realized the dream of European roots, I felt the urge to go a bit 'at home and I took three months of vacation.

As soon as I saw it I felt that there was something special, I can not find the words to tell you what, I never fell in love with a black woman before, even when I came on holiday there were many women I wanted to but I've never desired.

you, I wanted right away.

And she agreed immediately.

We got married after a month and two months we were together.

As these things happen?

I returned to Italy and you know, I immediately asked the family reunion, was in a hurry: awaiting response from the Prefecture for six months, but the times are long, I know, but now I do not know if I have a lot more hurry to start it, maybe it's better if it stays there.

Something has changed.

I tell you this, the first time, when I heard her on the phone, she said things that made me cry, seriously! I'm not kidding, I had never heard before and I was happy, totally happy.

But it changed for some time.

has changed.

Maybe he is in love with another.

Maybe my brother, who often goes to visit her.

The distance is a bad thing.

go to Senegal in February a couple of months, I have already asked for leave, I want to understand what happens, maybe it's just the distance that makes it more difficult and incomprehensible, but I want to see with my own eyes, talk, and then decide what do - I will not leave in the case, but it can always be there.

His eyes are dark, cloudy, listening to his story without a word, with too many words in my mouth, no need to say anything.

She looks at me knows that I understand it, look past me, knows that I listen to, you know who can tell me what you feel in the heart without filters in a long dialogue that rises to the lips only just enough to be said, but which is really a continuous story that has almost no internal need to stress, which was repeated several times in the head until you find this form quiet and resigned.

Un dialogo che va perfezionato, se l'intento è quello di nascondere la delusione e l'amore frustrato.

Gli offro una sigaretta, la prende, mi ringrazia, la tiene tra le dita senza accenderla, mi osserva accendere la mia, i suoi pensieri non sono lì.

Sorride quando riemerge, i suoi occhi quasi si scusano ma è solo buona educazione, voleva tanto parlarne che non si fermerebbe più e io non lo fermerei se potessi.

Sta facendo notte, in Corso Buenos Aires piove e si accendono le luci di Natale.

Quest'uomo parla di sé e di molti e di molte.

speaks of those who are alone and believed to find a half and then half that got lost somewhere - a dubious half wandering, barefoot and disheveled, and looking for a hand to pick up and bring her home, confused laws and restrictions, economic needs, parts of families who live elsewhere, are not shared cultural codes, new cultural codes are not yet understood.

Us and them, we stop.

U.S., mixed with the burden of living at a distance, many miles away that deepen wrinkles and furrows of loneliness, insecurity, of fragility, of the personal difficulties - united by fate common in a world where the family first duty is no longer the old coded and parental marital fidelity or respect, but the patience, the eternal waiting for wives and husbands, sons and daughters, mothers and fathers on the phone do not recognize when you see more and shake to strangers.

I am Italian, my husband is away Senegal for a year.

Senegalese friend of mine's husband is away for almost two Italian.

The wife of an acquaintance Albanian Italian fails to return for eight months and can not be certain of when he can get a visa.

The twins are the Bangladeshi caretaker arrived a fortnight ago, after two and a half years of waiting: you are playing two spinners who were thirteen, sixteen had requested, came two boys with the right to exercise the vote and to call the hotline with your credit card but their mother remembers them small and can not get used to the smell of their male counterparts.

Us and them, we stop.

bureaucratic reasons, legal reasons, economic reasons, contingent reasons that make that a long distance relationship, otherwise manageable, becomes a nightmare when the miles are too many and when you can not shorten each time your heart demands.

Maledette frontiere.

Pazienza, da coltivare con dedizione, certezze da mantenere salde, amore e cura che passano per i fili del telefono, adolescenti che crescono con la sola guida di una tessera telefonica internazionale.

I codici di riconoscimento dopo un po' saltano.

Dici “ciao” e si sente “vaffanculo”, dici “amore” e si sente “chi sei?”.

Chi sei amore? Ciao, vaffanculo.

Un giorno ho sentito forte la sua mancanza, fortissimo, ero per la strada, pioveva, tornavo da alcune costs, and I called, was a great feeling, how can I explain it? I do not know, I could not find the words I was stuck, maybe I'm scared and I was a bit 'aggressive with her.

Since then, it is not the same thing, she is closed and whenever we feel is a bit 'worse.

Perhaps the distance is the damage that being together will melt, or perhaps has done irreparable damage and she went elsewhere to look for companionship and comfort forgetting the other side of the sea.

Sometimes we fight, for no reason.

Sometimes he does things che non capisco, va a parlare con i miei famigliari, dice che l’ho abbandonata, che non voglio farla partire – le ho detto che deve parlare con me, dei nostri problemi, ma come posso pretendere che una voce nel telefono la tranquillizzi davvero?

Mio fratello è lì, presente, attento, occhi negli occhi, un braccio pronto a sorreggerla se scivola.

Forse lui cerca di portarmela via, forse invece prova ad aiutarmi, ma come lo capisco, al telefono?

Le uniche certezze che puoi avere devi dartele da solo e a volte scopri che sono solo illusioni, buone per non impazzire.

Adesso non so più se voglio che lei venga a stare qui, prima devo vederla, capire, guardarla negli occhi, capire cos’è successo.

Ciao, amore, chi sei?