Los Angeles, Malibù


bottle

Era uno di quei periodi in cui non sai cosa vuoi fare della tua vita. E a dirla tutta, la cosa non mi preoccupava nemmeno troppo. Mare, amici e surf le uniche cose che mi interessavano. Ero seduto in riva al mare, aspettando. Aspettavo che il mare si ingrossasse, aspettavo l’onda, ma forse stavo aspettando qualcosa di più. Forse stavo solo aspettando un pretesto. Chi avrebbe detto che aspettare sarebbe stato così importante per la mia vita, sia allora che in seguito.


Passavo le mani tra la sabbia fredda, e le mie dita scoprono un bottone con uno strano segno a onda inciso sopra. Che ci fa un bottone qui? Spiaggia deserta ai confini del mondo. Deve essere stato portato dal mare. Ho fatto surf quel giorno, ma la mia mente era a quello strano segno. Non riuscivo a giustificarne la provenienza e il significato. Rientrando a casa, sulla porta ho trovato un telegramma dall’Italia: “Ieri mentre giocavo a golf mi è venuta un’idea. Ho bisogno di te. Chiamami. Nic.” Nicola, mio fratello, non aveva mai avuto un’idea in vita sua.
“Nic, a me è venuta un’idea” pensai. Scoprii solo in seguito che l’idea era la stessa. E la condividiamo ancora oggi.

I was going through a period where I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. And, to be honest, I was not even particularly worried about it. The sea, my friends and surfing were the only things I cared about.I was sitting on the seashore, waiting. Waiting for the sea to get rough, for the big wave, or perhaps I was waiting for something more. Maybe I was simply waiting for a chance to arrive. Who would have said that such wait would turn out to be so important in my life, both then and later.


I was running my hands through the cold sand when my fingers came across a button with a strange wave-like sign engraved on it. Why is this button here? On a desert beach at the edge of the world. It must have been brought by the sea. I surfed that day, but I kept thinking about that strange sign. I could not figure out its origin, nor its meaning. When I got back home, I found a telegram from Italy waiting for me on the door: “While I was playing golf yesterday I had an Idea. I need to speak with you. Call me. Nic.” Nicola, my brother, had never had an idea in his life. “Nic, it’s me who has just had an idea” I thought. It was only later I realized that the idea was the same. And we have been sharing it so far.