The Bicycle and the Sewing Machine
Rome, a sultry afternoon, on a B line underground train, way to San Paolo
Background music: Sonic Youth, Tunic
dreaming, dreaming of a girl like me
hey what are you waiting for – feeding, feeding me
I feel like I’m disappearing – getting smaller every day
but I look in the mirror – I’m bigger in every way
“Yes, I’m calling you for the bicycle… my son’s bicycle, yes. Cause you have to give it back, yeah, you have to give it back to me”.
The woman’s rousing on the train seat: she’s short, dark-skinned, with small moving eyes which look all around in a suspicious way, she talks very loud and she’s almost yelling on phone.“Yes, my son doesn’t have to use the bicycle, got it? He doesn’t have to use it… how do you know what’s right or wrong for him? I know what’s right for my son!”
The woman wears cheap jeans, just a bit washed-out, flea market’s tennis shoes, terry socks, a tight shirt which puts her belly on a prominent place; she suddenly turns from resentfully to fake indifferent.
Background music: Cat Power, He War
I never meant to be the needle that broke your back
You were here, you were here, and you were here
Don’t look back
He war he war
He will kill for you
He war he war
He will kill for you
Hide from who you can
You know you can
I’d want the bicycle back, and my mother’s sewing machine, as a keepsake… it surely ended… look, I’ve never been mean on anyone, you know I have a clear conscience, ten years with you and I’ve never had another man… never… it was you the one who made a mistake, not me
”If you look at her, with her bad-painted mahogany hair, varnished nails and a lost expression, you could think she’d be a foreigner, maybe South American. But no way, she speaks a good Italian and sometimes she sounds even refined, with strong southern accent, maybe Campanian.
“Yes, my dear, it was you the one who made a mistake… I heard you’re happy with that Romanian chick, that you love her. Nice, I’m happy, me too I’m ok. Finally, I found a man who loves me for real, and now I’m going to meet him… he’s a carpenter, it’s a good job, we’ll meet and go to draw my car insurance. We meet only at night, it was him who asked me to come today, to pass a bit more of time together…
Musica di sottofondo: Rolling Stones, Honky Tonk Women
The woman rolls her eyes around, looks scathingly to the fearless passengers who keep observing her, fix her hair, hold the phone strong, for a moment raises a plastic bag full of clothes, maybe.
“Look, I’m happy for you, the only thing that I want to say is that you know these women come here to… to rip off everyone. They’re ripping off everyone, they want to marry, they want citizenship and money… I want to tell you just this, be careful cause these women come here with this purpose…
I played a divorcee in New York City,
I had to put up some kind of a fight.
The lady then she covered me with roses,
She blew my nose and then she blew my mind.
It’s the honky tonk women
Gimme, gimme, gimme the honky tonk blues…
Roma, un pomeriggio afoso, sulla linea B della Metropolitana, treno direzione San Paolo
Musica di sottofondo: Sonic Youth, Tunic
dreaming, dreaming of a girl like me
hey what are you waiting for – feeding, feeding me
I feel like I’m disappearing – getting smaller every day
but I look in the mirror – I’m bigger in every way
“Si, ti chiamo per la bicicletta…la bicicletta di mio figlio, si. Perché me la devi restituire, si, la devi restituire a me”. La donna si agita sul sedile del treno: è piccola di statura, scura di carnagione, ha occhi piccoli e mobili che guardano intorno con diffidenza, parla a voce alta e quasi strilla nel telefono.
“Si, mio figlio la bicicletta non deve usarla, hai capito? Non la deve usare.. tu che ne sai di cosa è bene e cosa male per lui? Lo so io quello che è giusto per mio figlio!”
La donna porta jeans stretti da due soldi, appena scoloriti, scarpe da tennis da mercatino, calze di spugna, una maglietta stretta che mette in evidenza la pancia; il suo tono muta da rancoroso a finto indifferente.
Musica di sottofondo: Cat Power, He War
I never meant to be the needle that broke your back
You were here, you were here, and you were here
Don’t look back
He war he war
He will kill for you
He war he war
He will kill for you
Hide from who you can
You know you can
“Vorrei indietro la bicicletta e la macchina da cucire di mia mamma, per ricordo… certo che è finita… Guarda, io non ho fatto del male a nessuno, ho la coscienza pulita sai, in dieci anni che sono stata con te non ho mai avuto un altro uomo… mai… sei stato tu a sbagliare, non io”
A vederla, coi capelli di mogano tinti male, le unghie laccate e l’espressione spaesata, potrebbe essere una straniera, magari sudamericana. Ma non è così, parla un italiano a tratti addirittura forbito, con un sensibile accento meridionale, forse campano.
“Si, caro mio, sei stato tu a sbagliare… mi hanno detto che sei felice con la rumena, che la ami. Bene, son contenta, anch’io sto bene. Ho trovato finalmente un uomo che mi ama davvero, e sto andando da lui… fa il carpentiere, è un buon lavoro, ora ci incontriamo e andiamo a ritirare l’assicurazione della mia macchina. Ci vediamo solo la sera, è stato lui a chiedermi di venire per stare un po’ di più insieme…”
Musica di sottofondo: Rolling Stones, Honky Tonk Women
La donna rotea lo sguardo intorno, fulmina i passeggeri che impavidi la osservano, si riavvia i capelli, stringe forte il telefono, solleva per un attimo una busta di plastica piena di vestiti, forse.
“Guarda, sono felice per te, l’unica cosa che voglio dirti è che lo sai che questa gente viene qui per… per fregare tutti. Stanno fregando tutti, vogliono sposarsi, vogliono la cittadinanza e i soldi… solo questo ti dico, stai attento perché quelle vengono qui apposta…”
I played a divorcee in New York City,
I had to put up some kind of a fight.
The lady then she covered me with roses,
She blew my nose and then she blew my mind.
It’s the honky tonk women
Gimme, gimme, gimme the honky tonk blues…
Filed under: Uncategorized