Cairo is a journey, it is quite a climb, altitude and heavy underwear in which you take refuge when alone, sheltered corner in which there seems to be already some time, maybe in some time, a place that it is difficult to understand and think for the most fervent and vivid imagery. Cairo is a town perched in the misty whiteness of light, a place hardly surprised that the dark color filters dall'intercapedine irpino last passage, from which we can already see the landscapes deaf dusty and Basilicata.
I knew the bike would have suffered a tear so long. I knew it, and when before the junction for Andreatta I heard coughing, I preferred to stop at the bar to eat something. Pending cool the engine of the bike, I ordered a small pizza cold the bartender, busy watching the Grand Prix of Formula One, has served me with far too little attention. And so I got on the outside, on a chair and a table of white plastic dirty and battered with little taste and I ate too much because I wanted to get to Cairo and I was a bit 'worried about the squeaking from the tank to get that feeling of motion.
Allocation, follow the signs for Calitri and Melfi. Continuation sull'Ofantina that seems to writhe and intertwine fun now that I'm almost at their destination. Journey to the
I leave the details and forget the road map, Cairo is up there watching me and waiting for me stubborn and I make my way to the top. Cairo is a country that is absorbed at the end of a cliff. Cairano is already over the cliff and the country begins just where the sky begins, where the road ends in a vacuum in the valley. Cairano located on an arm protruding from the mountain, is a cluster that raindrops fall from the top, a circle in Dante's party, a dusk stone on which is reflected in the light of day, a tuft of grass against the sun, an ancient tree at the the town center, a road that goes up and leads straight to the great gate of heaven. Cairano on the mainland is an island surrounded by an atmosphere of milk. The written words are at least as insidious climb imposing accompanying my bike, now exhausted, to the land. The closer you get, the more we lose, but Cairano is there, waiting to embrace you, shy and awkward as a mother waiting with her eyes but that does not stretch his arms to ever pick you up.
The people I meet seem to place the inhabitants of a border, relegated to the exile of the rise sunny afternoons nell'effluvio drunk lost staring at the empty, silent understood only by those who live and is forced to chew every day. I feel out of place, as always. I came to do. Cairano is the other side, by contrast, is high and must change the perspective of the gaze to look at it, bless the sweat and fear and raise their heads. You have to have a lot of thirst to get to this beautiful desert. Lower the stand while I do remember that even gas. I approach a group of old men who ask for information. The gas station is nearby but it is risky to Melfi and get there. Today is Sunday only.
