Lucio Battisti - Abbracciala Abbracciali Abbracciati
I vividly remember the afternoons of summer heat. The window of my friend Vincenzo's room wide open on the second floor of a public housing building and the stereo system of Pino, his older brother, always blaring, divided between the vinyls of De Gregori, I buoni e i cattivi by Bennato, the inevitable AC/DC and Lucio with his Latin souls.
We down in the small square, cursing for balls hitting the posts and scraped knees, while the music flowed through the trees, hovering over our sweaty heads.
One fine day, Pino went to explore the other side of the barricade.
And I ran out of time.
I miss time.
The time of little matches right outside our home,
the time of Platini, Maradona, Krol and your (and my) beloved Zico,
the time of tears over Brazil - Italy at the Sarriá in Barcelona where we were rooting for the verdeoro, the time you passionately dedicated to your music,
that same music and that same time that one day became mine,
the time that slipped through my fingers before I could simply say thank you.