Lucio Battisti
Fiori rosa, fiori di pesco

THE REVIEW

"Tonight I'm going out/I’m a year older... " The hope of many men is based on phrases like this, and it's uncertain whether to believe it or not, but it is known that hope is the last thing to die. That hope of finding your beloved there, where, whether you wanted it or not, she left you.
One naively believes that time hasn't passed and that today is like yesterday, or rather that today is already tomorrow. This happens to those who, after a surge of frankness and humble honesty, realize they cannot fly alone. A typical attitude of those who have experienced pain firsthand and want to get out of it suddenly, with a glimmer of courage. The wait isn't long, the journey is short, and so you find yourself already in front of her house, perhaps with a bunch of pink flowers in hand, like the first time. The air is fragrant and peach blossoms are flying, but spring is not only outside, it's also within the soul. There is no need even to ring. Not even a serenade. It's enough to tell the truth: "I want to see the sky in your eyes again, like once before." The door opens. Hands touch once more, and when you set off again, you never stop. They are cold and trembling, or at least, they seem that way. You start to believe that all you feel is reciprocated without issues, as if nothing ever happened. When you realize the opposite, it's too late, you had resumed believing it for real. You realize you are the third wheel. A silhouette has appeared behind her and in an instant, you realize that nothing is like yesterday; in fact, you understand that while you were falling and getting back up continuously, someone else had started a new life. Shame arrives, you apologize, at most, say goodbye, and leave...

Stories like this happen often, but only one man knew how to tell them in the best way...