white tile floor, covered with hair blacks. Young Balinese crowd the wooden benches of the barber to be substantially deprived of their raven hair thick and straight, neatly unkempt. Shaved and leave happy, thanking with a shy smile and leaving little cash, separate their contribution to the mat of hair lying on the ground, by way 'of sheep shearing. Under one of the benches is the plastic bag, already half full, which reflects the outcome of the fleece, and a sweep away. Without bare human hand, from the corners of the floor, a dirt that defies time.
The environment is little more than a cubicle on the open road, with two metal chairs that face two mirrors chipped. At the center of the wall on a simple shelf, within reach are the two electric shears and scissors a few. The destination is wrapped da un sudario blu scuro, di un poliestere lucido, che ha visto molte chiome prima di quest’ultima, scelto a caso tra quelli già usati e appesi ad un gancio. Il pettine a la forbice sono svogliatamente privati dai peli rimasti, con un pezzetto di gommapiuma celestina, che poi sarà usato per ripulire faccia e collo dai pelucchi ribelli.
I due artisti si danno da fare, intenti, con abili colpi di pettine sdentato e piccole dosi di rasoio elettrico. Le mani, sempre sicure, agili quasi, ogni tanto esitano di fronte a capigliature forestiere, magari straordinariamente folte di riccioli anarchici. Solo allora il rasoio, abituato a zazzere ordinate e diritte, come boschetti di bambù, hesitate entangled in her hair twisted like a jungle.
The only working fan moves hot air and thin tufts of hair from one side of the room, chasing a few lazy flies. Who's waiting in the form a clear boundary between the glare of the sun out there and the few spaces in the shade. Local newspapers are scattered in several tranches between the benches and the floor, shoot their headline "It's about the most famous collector of kris in Bali", "Inter faces Parma without Eto'o." A radio plays melodic songs, interrupted only by news of the exchange rate of the rupee. The road noise spreads its content, we on a side street in Seminyak. The atmosphere is quiet and relaxed but nervous glances in the warm air spreads s'appiccicano you and me. Few customers will throw in jokes to defuse the expectation of the razor, a must, cut with surgical precision the boundaries of hairdressing final. Without water, no sharpening, just on a skin softened by a brush stroke of a wet bar of soap and white, full of short Pelini blacks. Black and white. The Balinese dualism (good and evil?) Chasing me even within the antrum of the barber.
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