The first feeling when I get inside the train is of relief. I didn’t feel socially claustrophobic although at Bologne we were at least 7, up to 15 more often than not. But I always enjoyed being on my own. It doesn’t hold, though. After a while i start to feel a different kind of loneliness, that at first I relate with the contrast between being part of a group and being by myself. It doesn’t take me long to figure out that’s not the case. For a long time, my feeling of loneliness was closely related with missing a certain someone, a particular person. Even though the feeling was somehow less pronounced when I was with someone else, it was like a white noise; it was always there, it was part of me. I can’t honestly say if I ever got used to it, you know? It was what it was.
So.. How did I end up on this train?
In retrospect, I guess I knew everything was now faded. I knew that for a while then but… Do you know when you just hold, for no good reason, except not wanting deep inside to let go?
I lived something extraordinary. Were I to tell you the story, facts based, you would find it mundane, boring even. But what we live is not based on facts, but feelings. I’ve never been so sure of someone in my life, even though i never knew of what i was sure of.
I’m at Verona’s center and i don’t have a plan. I didn’t google attractions, places to go, restaurants. I don’t even have a map. I just wander around the main streets and bridges. The Black Friday deals still hold on the stores and people walk happily in the middle of the city’s aromas: pizza, cinnamon, smoke. I miss Juliette’s house three times, only to find it even more disappointing than what i expected. I walk, walk and walk. I stop for a smoke by the river, for a cappuccino near the Arena, for a beer in a street bar. The city is a mixture of autumn leaves in so many golden tones that i often stop and just breathe in deeply. The autumn has faded in the city, the same way you have faded in me.
Why did i even come here on the first place? Verona is the city of the impossible loves. Maybe i came here to drown mine. Deep inside of me, as in the Cure’s song i’m listening to, from a playlist i just created called Italian Autumn.
But the season fading colors are quickly being replaced for new ones. The red and green and bright from Christmas decorations. The color of loud voices and laughter as the night settles in and the streets are filled with Saturday night meeting groups.
I find a small corner restaurant, where i have zucchini gnocchi. The red wine in the glass is warm and strong. It gently fills up my veins and dazzles my bloodsteem; i need to find the bus stop and for the first time i get lost.
Funny, i drunkly realise, how you never get lost when you have no destination. No place to be. They say “not all who wander are lost”. To me is more of a “i’m never lost while wandering”.
I end up alone in the night bus, heading to my suburbs hotel. I don’t feel that loneliness anymore. I finally understood: i felt lonely for not having someone to miss.
People are odd.