silvio simonit. crazy italian man who talked with his hands. who made space for me in his life and on his couch. who listened to my completely non-existent, irrational, self-created problems. with half an ear (but listened, none-the-less). who was passionate about CNG, kebabs and quiet dusky women (and not necessarily, in that order). who was willing to talk about anything but his phd thesis. who really believed that he was indian royalty in his last birth (i don’t know which was more amazing, that he believed in reincarnation or that he believed he was a king). whose fridge was always full of coronas and devoid of food. who wanted to stay but had reasons to go.silvio simonit, who looked at me yesterday and said “where’s my rakhi?”. and saying so, took the last flight bound for italy.
i hate that he’s gone. but thanks to some unknown people of pakistani descent in london, i’m glad he flew yesterday. and not today.
2 comments:
this truly brought tears to my eyes, babe.
can't believe he's gone from here.
stone's not going to be the same without him!
that's not all, jija. i have a feeling james and sham are going to completely revamp silvio's huge, ugly, comfortable yellow/orange couch. it's going to go from being homely to being (literally) a hot bed of nefarious activity.
a lot of things are not going to be the same without him.
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