While I continue writing the second chapter of MTNN :: RoC, have some Spamano in the meantime.

This is one of the scenes that came up to my head when I listened to Amado Mio by Pink Martini

several versions exist, but the one I imagined Lovino to be singing is slower and softer.


Amado Mio

The cafe was open late, it's machinery humming duly while there were the occasional locals who sat in the booth watching the rain be illuminated by the yellow street light. The barista yawns and stretches, not at all concerned with looking unkempt in front of customers. Everyone was in their own world, content with listening to the rain fall and to the soft picking of the guitar from the front stage of the shop.

A foreigner walks in. He is new to this country. No one thought to ask for his origins or his destination or his purpose. The customers just accepted his presence as another anomaly beyond their concern. The foreigner accepts this fact and doesn't feel offended by the quiet people keeping to themselves.

He asks the barista for a coffee to go in accented Italian. Speech gave an answer to one of the unasked questions, betraying his Spanish origins. The Spaniard smiled and thanked the barista for the coffee but only received a grunt in return. It wasn't the hour for politeness, the darkness of the night made it easier to get away with uncouth behaviors.

The Spaniard places his phone on the counter top, not really doing anything with it besides habitually checking emails and messages. He sips the warm coffee, the bitter burn overwhelming his senses keeping him awake for the next few hours for the next part of his journey.

The guitar picks up again with a soft tango rhythm, the melody felt renewed but subdued, keeping the bar filled with a background song instead of a deafening silence.

"Amado mio

Love me forever
And let forever begin tonight

Amado mio
When we're together
I'm in a dream world
Of sweet delight."

The Spaniard paid attention when he heard his native language caressed so sweetly by the singer. It was a masculine voice but the song was sang quietly and filled with emotion not acknowledged by the other people of the café. What a shame for such a beautiful talent to perform so late at night, where the stars make the people cold and distant to the tempered souls of twilight.

"Many times I've whispered

Amado mio

It was just a phrase
That I heard in plays
I was acting a part

But now when I whisper
Amado mio
Can't you tell I care
By the feeling there
'Cause it comes from my heart."

The soft sighs and breaths of the voice entranced the Spaniard, coaxing him to the look toward the singer.

He sat on a lone stool with the mike held as carefully as he could. His chestnut bangs covered his forehead as his downcast eyes focused on nothing. His body kept in time with the music. The shift in his posture matched with the strum of the chord, the soft clearing of his throat was perfectly hidden in the rhythm of the song. On the whole, it was mesmerizing to see this individual who synchronized with the song so well.

He had no place making assumptions about strangers who he hadn't even seen the face of, but he wondered to whom was he aiming his emotions to. He was beautiful, no doubt about it. The singer's soul, his heart, his essence was perfectly beautiful to the Spaniard.

However, it was too late at night to think about things like this. He found that he tended to make stupid decisions during his late night promenades, and he still had a ways to travel and he didn't want to be arrive late. So he got up from the stool with his coffee in his hand and left the shop.

Before he exited, he passed the singer, who raised his head just in time for their eyes to lock. His eyes swirled with a tempest of greens and golds, and he felt himself being drawn in.

"I want you ever

I love my darling
Wanting to hold you
And hold you tight.

Amado mio
Love me forever
And let forever

Begin tonight."

Those last words were spoken so softly, almost afraid of being spoken, and he felt like they were somewhat directed at him. The singer was taken aback by the direction of his words, and the Spaniard saw the rosy blush flourish along his cheeks and nose. It was heartbreakingly adorable, but time restraints prevented him from relishing in the other's bashfulness. He sadly resigned himself to leaving this wonderful person behind, expecting to never see him again. The Spaniard gave a reassuring smile to the singer and left the cafe.