... 7 like that day in August of some years ago.
A hot and muggy day on a beach in the south of Italy. I 'm fascinated by the sea and warm. For me who lives in Lapland even a few hours surrounded by the blue of sea and sky with white and warm sand under my feet are a big gift. I was really enjoying the moment.
Don't worry, children, I was not in a bathing suit under the umbrella. I have a good belly and prefer to sit comfortably in a chair in the porch of a beach resort. From time to time I rolled up my pants and venture into the sea up to my ankles. That's all I can do because of my size.
But back to that August 7. I remember that day very well. First of all because I met a black guy from Africa, well-liked all over the beach, which came saying some words in rhyme: "Ciappalė ... ciappalā, č arrivato Mustafā!". Something as: here's Mustafā coming!
Thanks to his beautiful ways in the end I had to buy a watch that was not worth a penny. I pretended to fall into his trap, mind you, but I only wished to give him some Euros and make him gain his day. In the meantime I had well camouflaged my supertechnological polar watch.
Having done my good deed, I was napping peacefully when suddenly I heard a trumpet sound in the distance. It intrigued me a lot. I had never heard playing the trumpet on the beach. And the melody was also played well. A typical Italian song.
A few minutes later the author appeared: an Arab. Globalization is now a fact. I smiled under my beard. I liked it. I liked less what I had to see after few minutes. The man turned to solicit someone who obviously was lingering. A child appeared. A beautiful and tender little guy who was looking around with curiosity. But his brown eyes had something sad. In one hand he held a plastic cup in which people put a little money willingly. The child was singing the tune played by the father, but often casually. In fact, his interest was captured by the games played by his peers on the beach. However, he sang well. People were touched and gave willingly few cents. Do you think they would give the same amount to the father, if he was the father, if he was alone? What a sadness! Having to sacrifice a child to earn. All children in the world should be able to play when and how they wish but the world is too unfair and Santa Claus, alone, can't change it!
I had seen too much. It was time to go home. I reached my reindeers and sleigh, camouflaged behind the pine trees, and went back to Lapland with a heavy heart. I had to think how to solve the problem of that brown-eyed child.
What will Santa bring to that little Arabian on Christmas night? Be patient until December 25 ...
By the way, we are Italians, to translate better the stories. Thank you :))