Life of Miss Wilson that weekend was deployed, almost fully unwound and relaxed in his living room ... the rain had left no truce was pounding the streets, geraniums on the balcony strong, strong on the windows of the rooms, on strong umbrellas of those who, despite everything, gave way humidity of the day just to put your nose out of the house ...
In a context as unfavorable to the weight of melancholy would have probably taken by surprise even those who casually stops to read these few lines ...
But the soul of Miss Wilson breathed a sirocco wind-heat, overwhelming in its force ... but certainly better, in his view, to proceed some miles in navigation and his mental fluctuations.
The trip was not in solitary ... lying on the couch to his left that he was new to share with you a detailed and careful look at the screen of the TV which broadcast the final of the international tennis .. . under the sky of Rome, just as wet.
A perfect shot in its simplicity.
Brilliant improvisation.
free from any hot as the conviction and imposition ...
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