Il biondo
Oh yeah… I fell for it again. There’s nothing to do, the tongue beats where the tooth hurts! This time it’s not just my fault, oh yes… there is the hand of that accursed, “the Blond”… yes indeed him!
He’s been provoking me for years: “Eh Guerì, how I’d like to taste again that good wine that was made around here, light, delicious, without frills.”
Me: “I already know what you’re getting at, are you talking about Cordisco right?”
Il Biondo: “Look at that! 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 has had its day, now perhaps not anymore”
He “Why give a time limit to things? How presumptuous, we’ve probably just unjustly forgotten it.”
Me: “Well… maybe now that I think about it, your wise reflection has struck me, a bit of nostalgia comes to me too. To think that as a boy I preferred that scent of fermented grapes that rose from preposterous vats to moped darts , pervading the whole tavern and provoking the plaintive curses of my parents!”
Biondo: “Then you see that we understand each other!”
Me: “Oh yes, you make it easy, times are different now.”
He: ” Again? So you didn’t hear me before?! Why set a time limit on things? Put this prejudice aside, maybe you forgot to taste wines with your senses? If wine leads to pleasure I don’t see why it’s old-fashioned “
Me: “Oh well… that’s enough! Continuing to argue would only be lying to myself. I’m in! But mind you, no schemes, no cages, no paved roads. This time it goes off track!
Biondo: “Still here? You don’t want me to die of thirst!”
