Today is 8 August. I always get a little melancholy, sometimes sad at this time. Memories resurface, they always come from farther away but they always have the same greyish colors, the same stifling heat and the same nauseating smell.
I recounted my days in the beginning of August of the 91 a thousand times, in great detail and to so many people. It seems that now there is nothing new to tell and instead ... and instead in a box now old I keep some colored buttons. They are not just a memory, they are the only things I have left of that journey, of those days. They are not just a memory, they are a symbol, precisely because they are buttons, as if they wanted to hold my two lives together.
That morning I had decided to put my favorite skirt, long, of a beautiful green color, buttoned in front with colored buttons one different from the other. Today there are so many skirts, but in the 90 years, in Albania it was something quite exceptional. I was lucky enough to wear clothes that were beautiful and different from those found in the shops, more or less the same and sad colors. I loved my skirt with colored buttons and I really wanted to. I didn't know when I wore it that that skirt would have accompanied me on the most difficult and dirty journey of my life. I forgot about the skirt, I no longer thought if it got dirty or tore, it had become a dress it is a blanket now for two days. I had escaped from Albania, climbing on the ship with a rope, I had escaped from the ship by going down with the rope, I had escaped from the crowded port always wearing the same skirt but by now only colored buttons remained.
In the hospital emergency room, I can take a shower and give me "new" clothes. The first time in my life I wore clothes that weren't mine. I didn't even have a sister to exchange clothes. But I was happy because they smelled clean. I left everything else but the skirt with the colored buttons I wrapped so dirty it was and I took it with me along with some sandwiches and bottles of water to go back to the stadium.
After a sleepless night and a hellish day we prepared ourselves for the umpteenth escape, alas we had to escape again this time from the stadium.
I couldn't bring anything with me, only the documents, the 50 dollars and nothing else. Nothing, not even that little bag where I kept my skirt is the last sandwich. My skirt with colored buttons had to be thrown all the way into the corner of the stadium. What is it, we are in Italy, you know how many skirts you can buy. But that was my favorite skirt, it seemed like they were tearing me a piece of my life, my existence, my personality. What a foolish little girl with all that I had spent was attached to a skirt. It was stronger than me in a moment I quickly and so forcefully tore off all the buttons, even the small ones, and put them in my pocket before throwing the skirt away. Then run away to escape ...
I always have colored buttons with me. I had promised to stick them in some more clothes ... I'm in the old box now.