Gianluca Lucchese

THE PERFECT BEACH

FreeMind along your lifes way Next stop Russell Square!

Edizioni Miele

Preface We knew Gianluca Lucchese in London, during the course Unleash the power within, with Anthony Robbins. We were struck by his enthusiasm and great excitement! Through the metaphor of a unique encounter, in this story, Gianluca tells of life and how, in its own outward uncertainty, it might offer lots of special opportunities, which can make us follow our conscience and realize our souls deepest desires. We appreciate this work very much, as it sends out a real educational message, in line with the Hi-Performance values: we can shape our destiny and decide what we want to become; other peoples opinions are not important, we must overcome them, because our past never can affect our present; what is really important is our future, as well as our dreams and the goals we want to achieve. Very good Gianluca! Nello and Mody Acampora, Hi-Performance www.hiperformance.it

Capter One
George, come here! Dont bother people who are having a rest and let them doze in peace! Get over here and take your fingers out of your nose! If you dont stop it, your nose will become as big as an elephants trunk! You want to go to the cinema, dont you? Then, be quiet and youll watch the new Walt Disneys film very soon I was drifting into sleep, my hand supporting my right cheek! This disturbance might have come from a tourist with a child, or maybe from the Inns satellite TV channel. I take a deep breath and drink, quite slowly, the only glass of wine on the table my right arm is a bit numb. I hear the sounds of a moving train my heart leaps up. I rub my eyes. Right by my side near a window overlooking the sea a womans voice calls me she stares at me and I cannot ignore her I have goose pimples and a shiver runs down my spine. This reminds me of my childhood, when I went fishing and, for the first time, I caught a giant carp in a great mirror-like round and peaceful lake. I can see everything quite clearly. All of a sudden, my rod was bent almost double. I feel the dynamic fish strength getting me towards itlots of minutes battling the fish. A great emotion overwhelms me. I imagine its size, enjoy the battle, but I dont see it yet I can feel the same excitement even now, but this time there is no visible thread and I haven't put any bait on the hook. That mysterious voice calls me again. I cant resist the temptation and turn towards the sea

Sometimes our deepest desires are in conflict but failing to pursue them is the way of regret, since we need to become aware of those vibrations that lots of minds emit and many bodies perceive. I think that many people have already lived such a strange situation but only a few of them have rushed into it, without thinking carefully. I love to be always one among a few other people: I try to imagine myself at the top of a pyramid, other people glancing up at me, being unable to get there. Shes looking at me. I know. She gets close to me. I can feel her breath while being overwhelmed by a great sense of protection. Sweet words of love: I can see them as if written in the wall. On the right, the reflection of the dying sun, up to my feet. A scent of fresh lavender permeates my nostrils, it is gentle on my skin. I lightly touch it, while feeling its texture by hand. The words practica a a atishoo! the words practically and steadily carved on a wall in front of me like a tattoo. I turn my head 90 degrees to the right, but my feet rest on the gro a aatishoo! Ground I meant. Well, thats strange my eyes start stinging and I keep feeling like I am about to sneeze: it seems the allergy that I have whenever getting into touch with blue anodized aluminum but there really is nothing like that! No sign warning Pay attention: blue anodized aluminum!, not even a trace of it I dont have a clue well, let's go on When I went fishing, I used to get up at daybreak for preparing my fly fishing rods and reels. Only after a good breakfast, I stuffed my rucksack with some fruits, fresh cedar foam and a mortadella sandwich. I took with me an umbrella or a raincoat and listened to my favorite music along the way, reminding myself every fishing secret: how to choose the right place according to vegetation and winds, the direction that keeps the hook

point positioned up, support the fishing rod at the perfect angle, beach umbrella, already previously caught prey. What pride I felt that day. I felt like I was Arsne Lupin. I was then in nearly the same situation but not ready yet now. She took away my time. I might be the fish this time or maybe I am not I dont know. I always wonder what that carp could have felt getting caught. I can still remember the emotion I felt, the lake was just so calm and peaceful, the water so clear and pure. That was a bit of shock, current passed through the water, to the fishing line, to my arms, my nerves until my heart. I saw waves taking my breath away and finally I succeeded in winning and getting the fish out of the water. I felt like a warrior in a never-ending battle, fighting all my fears while singing a hymn until the carp came ploughing through the waves. A moment of glory. Of passion. Of great excitement. The only thing I can do now is just broaden my time conception. I can turn this minute into an hour and create all the moments She took me away. I take a shower, put on deodorant, cedar scented perfume and comfortable clothes. I feed both my cat and parrot. I go out and head for the rose garden, pick the most fresh and healthy rose and get here on my bike. I look for the most beautiful girl, get close to her and just say the first thing that comes to my mind. I'm better now. Quite peaceful. But everything is different here. Not even one girl. I have no rose to give her. I dont even know her face. The windows overlooking the sea have always given me a sense of melancholy and I've never been able to look beyond. The carp, probably would have liked to go back in its lake.

Now I can see words like shining, blinding, bright and imagine a colored life reflecting on me. I am watching quite amused the screen of a silent movie, listening to voices the director would have liked to be heard indeed. I say to myself that She is here just for short and every beat of my heart is a song played at high volume making me clap my hands like in a joyful gospel song. The innkeeper, my friend, a curvaceous woman with a chubby face and red cheeks, puts her right hand on my left shoulder. I think its a dockworkers hand, after a life spent loading and unloading containers from ships. I believe she has broken my collarbone. When she asked me if I had eaten yet, I felt like hearing a hooter announcing ships docking. My eardrum is already damaged! She has broken my inner balance and I have amplified her gestures. I get back to reality. I am paying the bill in a place I have never been. I look really shocked, amazed and astonished, my neck is paralyzed, it cannot turn right. I head for the window half-concealed by a female figure, who makes me perceive just a sea glimpse. I feel like a football fan in a terraces empty zone while raining. Protected by a ridiculous and colorful hat, shaped like an umbrella, he lonely sat there with his 180 kilograms of decaying flaccid and fleshy body. Covered by a garish red cape. During an important action of the play, he gets framed by the camera. Quite distracted and absent, he is tasting a hot dog with frankfurters, mustard and lots of relish dripping off his meal I cant understand how come that innkeeper is a friend of mine. Its the first time I see her, but I dont worry too much. Theres a dwarf sitting just a few steps away from me, standing on a chair opposite him. Hes dressed exactly like

me. He is similar to me also in his face expression and his gestures too. He looks at me joyfully. On closer inspection, he is not a dwarf, he is right me, only sixty or seventy centimeters tall! How is it possible? I rub my eyes but when I take my hands away he is still there. I am scared! I glance down, taking a deep breath, but when up again ... he has gone away! I exhale a half sigh of relief. Then a rooster comes in and just stares at me with silence. The feathered wears a red and yellow bathrobe like a boxer Why doesnt it crow? You gotta sing! it tells me with an American accent before vanishing Do I have to sing now? Why? Why? Where have you gone? Where have you gone? I look under chairs and tables right searching for it; someone could probably think I am crazy, but I've seen a dwarf and a rooster too dressed as a boxer. Nobody have seen them ... I must be really tired ... very tired ... My name is Lucas Ciandri. I have a cat, Mary Lou, and a parrot, Paco. I am about forty years old. I feel free. I love sports and nature. I did lots of honest works but all the same dangerous too, since I was only a young boy. Recently I touched bottom: my mind raced through several sad thoughts. I stayed silent for many sunrises and sunsets, using my mouth just for eating, drinking and yawning. I slept many hours a day, then I spent a good many of my nights writing and reading my work. Getting up I went to the window and saw the glasses steaming up with my breath. As I was a child I used to do the same thing when I felt really great,

wearing a blue school pinafore dress with a white collar, which made me unable to breath. I remember laughing, spitting and lying among my peers. Anyway I am an adult now, but like a child trapped inside an adults body. After a childhood of suffering, lack of love, shame, I hope to get, day by day, better, richer, healthier, stronger, more charismatic, enterprising and everything else. I just need to love myself and be loved as well. Always. Everywhere. Passionately. I wore the same clothes many days, listened for hours and hours to the same music, breathed the same air. But everything is better now. A while ago, I moved into a cottage, down the hills and published my first book. Now I have a new work looking for an editor. I would like to become a great writer, use the pen on the sheet like Van Gogh with his paintbrush on the canvas. I want my dreams come true within three or four years at most, have my books translated into Spanish and English, live on the sales of my own literary works. No matter how rich I become, how famous or powerful. But my works will become very famous, I know. I have been catapulted across a street whose sign is only readable in its last three letters WAY. Sunday in May of current year, only a few previous years signs around me. What a strange situation! Imagine, my reader, that you have just made a photo in an-old fashioned automatic photo booths, with warm purple tones complemented by curtains and swivel stool. You try to adjust the distance between the flash power and your eyes, just smiling. So you wait a few minutes to get it, realizing the photo reflects yourself some years ago, dressed in a different way, with childish face. I feel like going backwards.

I am at RoseInn, a peaceful location overlooking the sea and, on a Sunday afternoon in May. For lunch I just had spaghetti with shellfish and a steamed bass. My feet rest upon peach and white big rhomboid floor tiles. A fine-dining restaurant, made with great attention to even the smallest detail. Pink walls, terracotta jugs, funny caricatures pictures. Antique wood beam ceiling. Some succulent plants, gathered in a corner of the room, offer some encyclopedic efflorescence. Pure white and sky blue frames surrounding the windows which let in the light and the gentle sea breeze. Customers, seated properly on straw stuffed chairs, look quite healthy with the most amazing smiles at everyone. Yellow and rose checkered tablecloths. A few children, playing silently, seem really joyful. A female Persian cat is dozing, cuddling her chin over a purple red book. The ceiling fan blades move air, gently touching her long whiskers. Her body is completely relaxed: she inspires me with great serenity. In all the room resounds a lyrical music. A stone staircase leads to downstairs. As a child, I loved going to calm lakes: I felt like being in an unusual world, inhabited by magical creatures. It seemed that being by those peaceful waters helped my body to be calm. Pippo took me to the lake in his car, a pale blue Citron 2CV, with dashboard gear. He taught me the art of fishing. I used to open the black sunroof, enjoying the wind gently caressing my hair. May was my favorite month of the year, since we started to catch large quantities of big fish from the bottom of the lake

Publisher: Edizioni Miele

General Title Information

ISBN/SKU: 8863320527 ISBN Complete: 978-8-8633205-27 Title: The perfect beach Publication Date: 4/1/2011

Street Date: 4/14/2011

Language: English

Book Description (formally called "Annotation"): This work is not a tale, nor a novel. It is a way in a daily journey. What's the destination? The perfect beach. What's the way? Its name is Nina. Who's the traveler? Lucas Ciandri who, surrounded by intense scents of lavender and leather, lemon and tobacco, rosemary and caramel, walks along the way to selfconsciousness. Step by step, accompanied by several notes played by Verdi, Mozart, Sinatra, Modugno and Freddie Mercury, the character, the man as well, becomes aware of his own values, is able to overcome his deepest fears and to discover the goals he wants to achieve. He follows his own way to future, to freedom, to personal success.

Contributors
Name 1: 2: 3: Lucchese, Gianluca Marrocco, Laura Acampora, Nello e Mody Role Author Translator Introduction by

Non leggete, come fanno i bambini, per divertirvi o, come gli ambiziosi, per istruirvi. No, leggete per vivere. [Flaubert - Lettera a Mille de Chantepie, 1857] Il nostro slogan? "Editoria in Movimento" che ci identifica come casa editrice dinamica, in continua evoluzione. Sfogliando le nostre pagine troverete numerose informazioni su di noi, sulla nostra filosofia editoriale, sulle nostre collane e sulle opere da noi pubblicate, oltre che uno spazio sempre aggiornato su Concorsi Letterari ed Eventi periodicamente organizzati. Agli autori dedicato lo spazio "invio manoscritti" e ai nostri affezionati lettori una vetrina in continuo aggiornamento delle opere pubblicate. www.edizionimiele.it e-mail: edizionimiele@alice.it