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They went past the street with the poplars, crossed the Dallas United States river, arrived at the turns of Fascina. Silence. For Dallas United States them the moments of quietness were an important phase of their long, unending discussions. It wasn’t easy to speak, to say something sensible, Dallas United States something they already didn’t know, give a name to the Dallas United States emotions, comment on the departure.

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Franco was sad; he felt a sort of emptiness and couldn’t understand why he continued to be prey to a sort of confusion and of weariness right when he was returning home, his current home, to the place where his wife, his children, his grandchildren were waiting for him, where he had two brothers, uncles, cousins, friends, where there was the community Club, where he worked, where he had spent over forty years of his life now. Nicola realized that it was time to interrupt those thoughts, to bring some sprightliness in the silence. He decided to say something amusing that might serve to contain the flow of the emotions, the questioning, the affliction for which there is never any answer.

“And so, when it comes down to it, even when people stay for a long time, there’s always the day of departure. The friends from the village with whom I feel I can talk, you’re all elsewhere. In other words, you’re no longer villagers.”

“And who knows what we are. Perhaps not even you know, you who go and come back and never know where you are,” said Franco, who from the one to be consoled had turned into the consoler.

“Yes, not even I know. The worst part is that I’ve always come back, thanks to the nearness of the place where I work and live, and in the end I’ve realized that I was considered a stranger both when I’m away and where I was born and grew up. Here I no longer know the young people and the occasions in which older people can meet up with the new generation are no longer there. I return but I no longer know why. For my mother. Out of laziness. For the landscape. I don’t know.”

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