At the heart looking at that shack.
Slowly, we had crossed the little bridge over the little river with our hands well tight. We were seeing that sheet metal building , as if we had seen something very precious.
You was approached yourself to that shack, as if you was returned a child. Me, I was in front of it breathless.
I have had to sit myself on a rock, with the hands that covered the mouth, as if i hadn’t wanted make get out my emotions, while you was look at it, discovering again each little details, each dent.
You was looking at it, as if it has been, for real, one the most precious thing in your life.
Me, I was firm on that rock: I just staring it.
Our hearts was going crazy, and they were resounding in whole Our Parallel World at unison.
“This shack has been builded by grandpa” you have said in whisper, turning your face toward mine, then you have continued: “Here I’ve figured to be a knight or a magician.”
Slowly you have opened it, and you returned to me; you have stretched your hands to take me inside of it.
I had the heart in the throat: I couldn’t swallow.
I hadn’t still say a words, but entering in it, even for me, has been as enter in a dream.
You have taking my hand, and together we had seen each corner of that big shack.
“It’s how I remember it” I whispered.
You stopped, and you have asked me in a thread of voice: “How? What?”
Now, who was speechless, it was you: I’ve accompanied you to sit on a bench, and I’ve started to speak, while in silence, the furry animals peeking inside: they have putting themselves on the ground in front on the entrance of the shack.
They knew that this story that I was about to tell it was intimate, so they have respected that moment.
I dived myself in your eyes. We held our hands: and together we had took a deep breathe.”