much other lascivious sins with that extraneous, without not even having realized, stunned by the pleasure that it darkened her the reason or even drugged to his/her insaputa. Saint stared at her/it stunned, as they settles the ghosts. Then it turned him to her with extreme confidence.
"Sabrina! That man has lied me, I thought that I would not have you more magazine!"
The terror on the face of the girl exponentially increased.
"Who Sabrina is? I regret but I don't know her/it at all. You/he/she has exchanged me of certain for qualcun'altra. Where is the countess?"
While it was pronouncing these words it nervously grabbed his/her shed suits on the floor dressing himself/herself/itself in hurry and fury, without never dissuading his/her frightened look from the outline of Saint that stayed unarmed, bewildered by the unexpected reaction of colei that for him it was unquestionably and without shade of doubtful Sabrina.
The occultist, to I exhaust him/it of his/her strengths, it forked the great front door that gave on the central spiazzo of the enormous garden of the villa. It allowed the gravity to defeat him/it and it ruinously fell on the gravel of the long road that brought to the exit of the villa. While it was falling it returned far him to the mind a sentence of the archer of that world.
"I confide that you succeed in maintaining the calm and the necessary lucidity to bear the immanent impact to the ground that will suffer your conscience."
He/she didn't take care of him to brake the fall with the braccias, leaving so that his/her bones impattassero violently to the ground. He/she didn't even mind to protect the face from the sharp ones, thin pebbles that composed that rough pavement. Its face was hurt, it painfully lacerated him pouring again dense gushing out blood from the cheek and from the temple. Finally the nth physical suffering to tentar to arouse his hallucinated Spirit, without more anchors, in nanny of the endless ocean of the possibilities. You/he/she would have wanted to have more courage, inflicting himself/herself/itself great pain to succeed in definitely arousing his/her drowsy being. To go to the extremity noblest of the pain and chivalrously to die of it of that action, to reach so the full ransom of his/her soul, of his/her Spirit, of his/her psyche or of anything of him pits still in his/her possession. The immobility of that desolating desperation lasted brief instants, then its thirst of truth, that could be unmasked by now perhaps her simply defining her/it thirst of folly or onirico desire to definitely defeat its shiny humanity, it exhorted him/it to get up for continuing its one man show search.
"Returns in you, Christ! Are you almost so stupidly returned to the origin of this intrigue and throws the sponge?it " shouted to tall voice, while its wish still hoisted that painful body.
It reentered in hurry in the house and he/she ascertained the damage provoked him in front of a mirror. Half turned was a mask of blood. The cut on the cheek was not deep, but thin deposits you/they were inserted in the wound, risking to infect her/it. What irritated him/it more it was the evident hit that had suffered the eye. The whole side of the right eyelid, included the arc sopraccigliare, they were so swollen and swollen not to allow him anymore the use of the eye, without counting then the pain that had to the ribs inhaling the air; a pair of ribs if the era cracked of sure.
"I was not enough happy to have recovered my hand, had to leave us an eye to make executes to my joy Christ!Saint again " cursed, this time fully tasting that curse.
You directed to the playpen and it found again his/her Jaguar to wait for him/it. It slipped you inside and it departed to all gas toward the wisest place that his/her mind it knew, the morgue of square Gorini, crossroad of all the souls, last secret casket where they confessed their vicissitudes, their fears, their taller aspirations. The road for that place was totally occupied by an endless cord of motorcars in tail that impietosamentes braked the arrival of Saint to the last hopeful beach of his to wander about. The man was still very estranged by the modern world that the nauseating smokes of the gases of unloading and the deafening noise coming from that terrible crowd of motors they stunned him/it extremely. It labored to sustain himself/herself/themselves shiny and to pay only attention to the road with an eye. All of a sudden its auto went to collide with violently the vehicle that preceded her/it. The all happened to some kilometer from craves him destination. Saint didn't take care of at all him what happened and steering the more possible tried to surpass the collided with auto, but he protected ahead him an annoying to be in jacket and tie that it started to shout him against incomprehensible words, accompanying its rambling speech with hysterical gestures of the braccias. The tail of firm auto to its left prevented him from continuing the manoeuvre. Definite to take the escape jumping on the sidewalk, it geared the back, but it still bumped against another auto behind of him. In an instant also the other collided with motorist gone down by the mean shouting. The Jaguar was trapped between the two motorcars and the occultist you/he/she could not do anything else other than to open the counter and to go out for continuing afoot. The man in jacket and tie surprised him acknowledging himself/herself/itself the ugly wounds that Saint brought in face.
"But she is wounded! Is firm there. I immediately contact the centodiciotto."
Saint surpassed him/it without not even deigning him/it of a look. The other motorist, a youth on the about thirty, very more determined and nervous of the other, it grabbed Saint for an arm.
"Hey, imbecile, that you are spiced? Where do you believe to escape? You call the police, he/she knows me that the auto is rubat.
It was a heading of Saint in full nose to extinguish the resentful determination of the young one. While the occultist, to the height of the folly, it was pushed of run away from that place, the stricken boy to the unprovided one it bursted in childish hiccups, raped in the pride by that unknown crazy person. In few instants this last made to lose his/her traces to the eyes of the so many curious that had tried to follow him/it. After a raced rocambolesca the occultist mixed him anonymous among the crowd of passers-by that filled the sidewalks of the dismal metropolis. It walked of big lena, despite the pain to the ribs it persisted indomitable. The wounds to the face seemed to bleed less, even if to totally stop the hemorrhage you/they would surely have been necessary of the points of suture. At the end, after so many pangs, it came in front of the bleak building, unique representative of the middle line for all the dead people violently in the entourage in Milan, where their souls would be been able to ransom or impietosamente to damn. It crossed the door of entry, a pair of people with still drawn the death in face it was about to the exit accompanied by two elderly police officers. Saint covered halves the face swollen with the hand not to arouse the attention of that strangers. It knew to memory that place. The colleague immediately noticed to the counter that cast every now and then a distracted glance to the address of the entry with to do annoyed while its attention was all assembled under on the small television instrument to the counter. Saint studied the correct moment, it lowered on all four then without making to be perceived and it slunk away beyond it brings her/it to glasses that it brought to the long corridor and the various inside rooms of the morgue. A sense of dizzy horror took possession him as soon as of its body it proceeded, already looking for her/it key note that would definitely have shattered its transitory tenacity. It came, after having looked for in all the cells frigorifere, to the last room, that where the corpses were prepared for being redelivered then to the enterprises of funeral pomps for the last turn in the external world, among the clamors of the meat of the alive ones, to postpone to their funeral. It opened trembling the door. He/she heard the echo of the television coming from the superior plan. The colleagues were all crowded ones in front of the screen. The violent clamor of vulgar cries, accompanied by the noise of agitated applause, they made to already start the precarious nerves of Saint.
"Gol!they " shouted in choir that awkward bipeds.
Saint smiled bitterly to the preponderant emotion that made him/it tremble as a leaf. That instant would be been able to be also
for him the definitive gol of that whirling existential game to which so much seriously you/he/she had played. It finished opening wide the door, it found the interrupter of the neons to memory on the right. There was some lightning of artificial light and during that intermittent shine, also he to fior of lips pronounced with bitter sarcasm:
"Gol!"
It was true, if with true it is defined anything that we see and we can touch with hand, even if by now Saint, in his/her cuor, he/she didn't believe in those characteristics of the truth anymore. You/he/she can be said that in that breaker it was forced to accept the incontestable illusion that veiled his eyes with the bloodiest tears that its Spirit could drip. Was her! Stretched out elegantly on that vernacular bed of metal that cooled her the body. Had to be still for strength warm that body! It owed for strength to become animated that dame and to give back his necessary courage to face his/her next breaths. Dafne was very beautiful, tidied up just as him you/he/she had systematized her to the time of the simulation of his/her theatrical funeral.
"You have taken there so much taste to witness to your funerals, not to be able of it
Saint Spirit Page 58
