the feast of the parish there were all those I would have expected to find, anyone visiting the oratory and the church. I will not make any effort to groped to remember their names. They are names that beyond etymology mean nothing, just like people who wore them. One person caught my attention: he was a monk. See a guy like that at the feast of the parish was strange as seeing a polar bear at the equator. Why was not a parish of the friars.
brother-Good evening, I know your name?-Approaching, I asked him awkward and curious. I knew that the brothers really like to be called "brother" and that let's you easily give.
-Fra-Jeffrey told me he turned abruptly to me. At that point I realized that must have been very drunk because they meet hit me with a breath from the smell strongly of alcohol. Jeffrey-Fra-repeated-Del monastery Orlok-
He had tears in his eyes and mouth strangely bent.
-comes from a monastery? - Researched, unwittingly giving him the she-I have never heard of a monastery of that name! And what makes us here at the feast of the parish? -
-What am I doing? Atone for my sins, you see, frattello? -
-atone for his sins by getting drunk? -
- not give me her. For us, the Friars all men are brothers, "said while trying to fill his plastic cup with the bottle that had just emptied. -I am the brother-
Jeffrey-Jeffrey ... is a foreign name ...- said.
-Oh, once went out of fashion. Cu was years ago, a saint who porava this name .-
San Jeffrey? I had never heard. Of course, this air of the holy friar cel'aveva not at all. She took another bottle of wine for himself and was struggling with the corkscrew in an attempt to open it. It was only then that I noticed what was worn and soiled her frock. It was a habit different from those I had seen wearing the few monks that I had ever met. This was a lighter brown than the others and seemed made of a rougher fabric.
-And where is your monastery, brother? -
-The monsatero of Orlok? It is up to the mountains. Not far from here, but it is difficult to achieve. Inaccessible paths, sharp rocks ... Atonement is at the heart of our belief .-
I did not know what to ask and I remained silent watching him once again filled his glass to a little 'wine sull'abito.
-Would you like to come and visit our monastery? - Between Jeffrey then asked me point-blank. I was undecided for a moment to watch: The Franciscan friar took his robe in his left hand and swirling fiddle making. He took a large sip and then looked at me waiting for a response. Her eyes were red and his mouth twisted oddly, so that seemed a mocking smile. I realized that this man intrigued me.
Yes, answered me there? -
-course! - Said giving me a pat on the shoulder. He moved like a drunken man from a tavern, but something told me it was worth to follow.
Let's start walking, "said" We must arrive before dark. Naturlamlente we will need a bottle for the trip, and so grabbed a bottle and walked briskly toward the exit of the oratory. I felt as I followed him on me the prying eyes of the faithful of the parish. But we did too case. I did realize that in some way until the day before I would never have dreamed of following a drunken monk who had never seen before for asndare to a monastery by the unlikely name. But the unusual experience that I had experienced that day, the vision I had while I contemplated the framework of the Addolorata, had a strange effect on me. I felt an unusual curiosity about Between Jeffrey. As they left the oratory past Don Carlo, who was standing on the sidelines, holding the missal in the chest, staring sternly.
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