These words reminded Massimo of Sonia. While he tried to inhale, release the steam, waited to puff again, he thought that even with women he had always used the wrong method. He was being too pushy. He was trying to pull her to him too fast. He needed to learn the right timing, a steady pace but precise and constant, like a drop falling on a rock, day after day, year after year, until it digs a hole in the hard stone. He wanted to dig a hole in Sonias heart.
He wanted to enter her heart and stay there, shelter her with his love and comfort her with his constant presence.
You might think that Massimo considered Sonias heart as hard as stone, and as a matter of fact, sometimes he did. Because by now he knew that she had another man and that her heart was off limits to others.
Sonia seemed impossible to conquer, like a fortress which enclosed trunks filled with gold and jewellery, but they were already assigned to another keeper.
He didnt know, however, that she was going through a rough time with Giorgio. If he had known, he would have discovered that the music was changing for him, another rhythm, and another time.
Part seven (black spots at the rest area)
September tiptoed in. Actually, towards the end of August there had been a hint that it was on its way, but it was not enough to beat the high temperature of its predecessor. The African heat brought by the anticyclone persisted undaunted.
The Italian beaches swarmed with the blue, green and white colours of thousands of open umbrellas. The sight from above was baffling; the Beautiful Country, as Italy was named, was a contradiction of highways clogged traffic and, at the same time, beaches still crowded by swimmers.