Il Biondo
Yeah… I fell for it again. There is nothing to be done, the tongue beats where the tooth hurts! This time it’s not just my fault, oh yes… there is the hand of that damned, “ Il Biondo” … yes, it’s him!
For years he has been provoking me: “Eh Guerì, how I would like to taste again that good wine it was made in these lands, light, delicious, without frills”.
Me: “I already know where you want to go, you are talking about the Cordisco, right?”
Il Biondo: “But look a bit! And to think that the valley was full of them, an expanse of rows as far as the eye can see”.
Me: “How nostalgic you are! That ancient vine had its time, now perhaps no more!”
Him: “Why give a time limit to things? What a presumption, we probably just forgot it unfairly.”
Me: “Well… maybe, now that I think about it, your wise reflection struck me, a bit of comes to me too. To think that when I was a boy, to whirling around on a moped, I preferred that scent of fermented grapes rising up from impractical vats, pervading the whole tavern and causing the lamenting curses of my parents!”
Il Biondo: “Then you see we understand each other!”
Me. “Yes, you make it easy, now times are different!”
Him: “ Again? So you didn’t hear me before?! Why do you give a time limit to things? Put this prejudice aside, maybe you forgot to fell the wines with your senses? If wine leads to pleasure, I don’t see why it is out of date”.
Me: “Oh well… that’s enough! Continuing arguing it would just be like lying to myself. I’m in! But understand me well, no schemes, no cages, no marked roads. This time we go off track!”
Il Biondo: “Still here? Don’t you want make me die of thirst?!”
