Now little Joe had finally realized. When he was of this world he had wondered
many times, never find a reason with it, why the two worlds, the here and the
afterlife one, were separated and incommunicable.
He had fallen asleep that night, as always, fantasizing about the worlds of the
past, convinced that somewhere there were those ancient Romans who admired so
much, or the heroes of Homer that he found so enthused by reading his works, or
even its ancient ancestors of Sardinia and Sicily, who appeared in various
costumes, in a long procession of worshipers on their way. And the Spanish conquistadores, who rode like
heaven in front of huge crowds of shouting Indians. And every night was a
different trip of fantastic inner world
on his imagination.
Smiled the boy, but in a different way from what appeared on the photo of the
tomb where his mother never missed on
putting fresh flowers.
His Mom! What a feeling, to touch her hair, just sprinkled with gray, in the
guise of an impalpable gust of wind! Of course his mother could not understand
that the sudden disruption of her hair,
or the prurience's cheek, or the
fleeting fluttering of his coat were always quick strokes of her little Joe!
But maybe it was better that way. Had she just imagined she would certainly be
scared. Thank goodness that the good God had not enabled the material contact
between the two worlds, even if in the end, little Joe was not so convinced
that her mother did not hear him beside her.
If he could talk to her, he would say his mother that the ancient worlds, so much those
he longed for night and day, were there,
in the same places where the living world of the living soil. It was enough to
depart to the sky with the speed of
light and stop at a certain moment, in order to see, all around the Colosseum, the
crowded arena of trade shows and gladiators, senators, and the old roads used
by heavy boots of the Roman soldiers armed with shields and spears, merchants,
innkeepers and prostitutes, and hilarious comedies of Plautus, which did so
much fun on the benches of the school: everything was there, as if two thousand
years had never passed away.
And in the eternal joy with Jesus, Joseph and Mary,
the saints, the angels and the spirits of the immortal Dante, Leopardi,
Shakespeare, Holderlin, now little Joe sang the praises of the infinite
greatness of God.
How could he now his jubilant spirit, explain to mortals that the time that we
live is just a small segment of the space-time, integrated into an infinite
geometric curve that evolves seamlessly from night time immemorial? how to say
that our spirits are prisoners of their material bodies, and above all, we are slaves of our rational
prejudices? Well then God was right making incommunicable the two worlds. And he would wait the infinite universe
reunification, to rejoint with her mother and with the other more candid souls of
the world!
