Monday, September 3, 2012

Dream 03 "The Death of Giovanni Fusillo" (Giovanni Fusillo, 1960)

He’d been in the tunnel too long. The water was already up to his knees and the smoke was getting thicker. It stung his eyes. It burned his throat with each gasp of hot, thick air. The others had gone quiet. He’d lost sight of them in the haze. And he was tired, had to rest against the wall for a moment, had to let himself close his eyes.

He dreamed that he was an old man, sitting on a porch. It was summer, and hot, under an enormous white sun. He took his hat off to wipe the sweat from his forehead. It felt good, this heat, and there were children playing in the road. He liked that. He couldn’t see them, but he could hear them, shouting and laughing somewhere nearby. It was nice to sit there in the sun and let his eyes close listening to those happy sounds. He was tired and old and he could feel the strength leaving him, gently easing out of him, and he let himself relax.


Learn about Giovanni Fusillo here
Explore more Toronto Dreams Project postcards here.

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