Where are your eyes and your mouth

Dove sono i tuoi occhi e la tua bocca
I tapped, not exactly nervously. fingers on the desk, in rhythm.
The stereo, the music is a constant.
There can be no moment without music.
I have that extreme ability to hear music everywhere.
A noise as the first note of that piece, a phrase, said by someone, that takes me back to a song.
A any song.
You had just left, and I was in your house, a stranger in a place that many times seemed not to welcome me.
You went to the theatre, to do some shopping, I don't remember.
Things weren't even that bad, on the contrary.
One of those nice, beautiful periods, of the first times, of fixed eyes that look at you closely and that every time are able to discover something new, beautiful, tumultuous.
Black eyes, beautiful, truly, yours.
And the lips that taste of salt [cit.], and that, despite everything, are still thirsty.
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Lazzari happy, always.
Pino Daniele, always.
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Poster When, Pino Daniele
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