"The Brotherhood of Elvis" by Olga Campofreda Of Morgan Palmas
The word for "The Brotherhood of Elvis" by Olga Campofreda: cool.
Pages 117, ARPANet.
Station Piacenza, drunk, five in the morning after a night in Bologna. Like the time in Scotland with Paul. I met him for five years in high school, then we'd split, I to him in Venice and Milan, so we decided to do with Erasmus in Glasgow. It occurs to me now the party where she saw the tree, there, next to the console.
"Stop!". I found myself in the scene without even meaning to.
The wonder was shocking, not only Nicolle spoke our language, but the next morning we found her in the kitchen and said: "I did not know how to thank you for tonight, so I decided to prepare something for lunch. " And the launch of records, he said, that worm was a vendetta against her boyfriend who had well-thought not to tell her that there was already a girlfriend.
The pact became clear from unclear, a few days, weeks, months. Nicolle was to save money, then took care of the house, in order to feel useful for us was a mother, a sister, a girlfriend failure, in short, treated as necessary from several points of view, was a tenant illegal, of course but represented the true heart of the family. The talks are wasted when we find ourselves around the table for lunch or dinner.
Meanwhile, the music had become a new task, maybe less close to the examination session, but that day, that fateful day that Nicolle had the idea, well, we had to scream with joy. The Brotherhood of Elvis was formed, the declaration took place at the earliest opportunity, surprising me and Nicolle.
up there, looking at Glasgow, he could not go that way. It was in the air.
When I got home Paul was better, damn umbrella. Better to think of the music and the closure of the evening at the School of Art, the situation was degenerating, I knew damn. Should not be in the air, watching Glasgow, did not have to.
Bum! A handful, yes, who was?
"It's too late for explanations, Marco .... " What got in your head?
We had to go on stage, unfortunately I could not remember the agreements, something wrong had been stuck in my head. We received only one cheering when everyone knew it was the last song.
"Tomorrow?", That is tomorrow you going? I could not believe it, it was more important than the fist, the humiliation, the fool on stage, she would leave. We kissed. And who came through the door? As the worst movies, fuck.
In the following days everything left me indifferent. I just remember that it was the left foot to greet the land of Scotland.
came a letter, knew well the writing, certainly not coming to dinner, I said. I found myself in Bologna, which was he doing there? Now everything is clear to me: "Hello ...."
Olga Campofreda The short novel is fresh, only the prosperity of the youth include the soaring reliefs that age, an age when the right to dream goes hand in hand with the need to attack the intensity for as it is presented. A book recommended for those who want to relive the joy of twenty years, also reflecting on the most incredible of chance and love.