My head was very ill. I felt confused emptied. Whenever I felt weird I went to the baseball field between Market Street and Cherry Street. Watching the kids play baseball gave me comfort and time to think. Each time I turned off the look and all'ovattato busy noise coming from the Manhattan Bridge. I held my hands pinned in the generous pockets of my long coat but it felt real cold inside. The hangover from the night before I was annoyed, lying on the ground like a boxer knock-out sends a weak opponent. The leaden sky enveloped New York in a sad and sadistic grip cold. I fell by the wayside, I raised my hand and took a taxi. -Take me to Battery Park, please. I felt the tension salirmi stomach with a sigh I gave a glance of the stretch of water to my left. The driver was a man in his forties, not very tall imposing nose, blond hair and fair skin, a wound on his face made one think of some kind of altercation. We had to make some deviations, then the viaduct leading to the park I almost dozed off. The driver honked, I recovered and recognized Battery Park. I breathed the stinging air, impure, good pace and reached the heart of the park. She was waiting for me, her beautiful red hair perfect and imperfect At the same time as the city appeared to have a handful of crumpled paper. He moistened his lips-I was waiting for Gregor, then with her fine voice and sensual "We are ready, you and I, for our new life. I went over and kissed her with all the breath in his body hanging from its generous and fragrant lips. We took two cups of steaming coffee on Pearl Street, just a stone's throw from the park. My clothes were clean and my pleasant odor as I had taken a shower in the early morning in the hotel where I lodged, she was equally taken care of, "Who knows in a few days as I will be reduced", I thought. We spent the whole morning walking, despite the bitter cold. At lunchtime we stopped at a table hot. I ordered a hamburger with the blood, potatoes and a beer. You two eggs, bacon and milk. I noticed that the swarm of tourists we had unwittingly dragged around the financial giant of Wall Street, I decided to go in front of my ex-office. I was taken by a slight discomfort mentally retracing my career. I remember that the work assigned to me was not boring, even difficult, even well-paid: I missed anything.
owned a penthouse in nearby Frankfort Street where I was living with Susan at the beginning. I met her one morning in July, she was a waitress in a bar not far from my residence where I went often to refresh. The truth was somewhere month we exchanged fleeting glances, then one day I took courage-unbearably hot right? She looked at me for a moment seemed to say something, a break-I would say that I can be successful, pointing to the workers on the other side of the road-If I did a job like that, well then I would have to complain about that but here, you are not doing not bad after all, is not it? I watched the skin of his hands at that moment I wondered what could be soft and fragrant. -Of course, I answered, and that is why I come here for a fresh lemonade. A-really? She said. -It 's just for the lemonade? He said laughing and holding out his hands up to his lips. I froze in that instant, I realized that it was she who was trying to seduce me. To a second I felt disoriented as if I had lost the reins of my horse. Who makes the rules of the game?
Our project, or rather its design, to whom I had joined, was to sell all our possessions. Since the liquidation of the bank account, the sale of shares, sale of the attic, car, bike and every piece of furniture. We wanted to stay with only the clothes they wore and some money to survive. Susan said that we had to live in misery and get up on their own. Only then could we truly appreciate life just so we could redeem against this generous city. My reluctance was not walking when I heard these words. Then But inside me pushed through the idea that this was possible. Gradually, we began to deprive us of the most obvious things, water for example, we opened the tap as possible. No heating in winter, no air conditioning in summer, food to a minimum and only simple meals and readily available. No cars, when you could always just walk away. In the meantime I had already fired a long and Susan had abandoned his job. This went on for many months but I realized that I could not really go back when we gave all my cash to charity, including those derived from the sale of my apartment for us to prop up a small part. Susan then took a temporary separation two months, two months during which we had to get away alone, staying in some hotel when we were at the limit of our strength.
past two months now that Susan was with me again I began to worry less. At Battery Park on my mood had improved considerably. We walked along Liberty Street, leaving Wall Street behind us. The winter was hard but we managed to win on the night, often slept near some of the hot water pipe breaking or being hidden in the hall of any building. The days spent in the parks. The money we had we would have enough to eat for another month or so. One morning I rubbed my eyes with a sky extraordinarily clear and clean. We spent the night in some bins. Lost for a moment I look in the wake of an airliner, soon realized that Susan was not there with me. I was hoping it was a game, you know where I loved to go when I felt confused, maybe I was waiting for the baseball field, after we had camped near the main road leading to the Manhattan Bridge. But I felt a constant anxiety rise up in me, I did not hesitate, courses in the smoky streets of Market Street, I came to my beloved baseball pitch and waited, desperate race to catch his breath, spending time with her but no trace. I took a taxi with the latest money left to me-I go to the Empire Fultron Ferry State Park, uttered shrill-One of the best views of New York right? He smiled the driver. "It will definitely be there," I muttered to myself, "after all we loved often spend the last hours of the day watching the unmistakable New York skyline. She was not there. I cried on his knees among the rocks wet and slippery as I felt the cold steal of my neck like a noose of death, I took the little strength I had and I found a place to go to bed hoping not to die with cold. The next day, I realized that I was completely without money. "What a fool!" I thought, only then I realized that I had not a dollar, but why the hell I had not thought of before?
Dear reader, I know this story seems unlikely. I'm Kurt Trevor. A native of Minnesota and trasferitomi five years ago here in New York. It has been nearly two years by the discovery of this piece of paper that now I have written here for you, it froze to lay in the hands of that poor man by the name of Gregor. His partner Susan there is no trace. I did some investigation, I interviewed all the managers of the bars but nothing in Frankfort Street. It seems that no girl with red hair has never set foot as a waitress in any of these posts but the reliability of my investigations is blurred by time. The only thing I can do is spread the story of a man who perhaps wanted to believe what he was not there. You, therefore, free to believe or not.
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