There is a phone call that I do every now and then on Thursday night that fills my heart.
First of all because my phone to a dear friend who lives outside of Genoa, and secondly because it is a call "slow" that we have no haste and tell us our lives without the thought of hanging up something fast because presses . This makes us the good and is a gift that sometimes we allow both me and her.
instead suffer so much visited in "stroke". The more I get older and more intimately than I hate giving himself brushing against hasty appointments that will never speak for a bit 'calmly to confide in and face all the time it takes.
We seem to have relegated this to the studies of experts, however, where an hour after the shooting rate and there is another person who will enter (paying).
Still, there are priests and the witnesses who are willing to listen to for free and for long times even the stories, problems, joys
humanity but I do not know how long this could happen.
I bow to the slowness of the relationship and is a real pain for me to die to feel the words in my mouth because there is no "time" and the person who talks to me or myself, we care and we are already reaching out "other." The joy, the joy of talking with a friend or a relative or a son or a husband, he managed to also transformed into a huge undertaking to be addressed (I have to, I I feel obliged, and not that nice!)
Again, this is consumerism and its opposite is to stop the dialogue and make those words become moments of eternity.
