The Downtown Mushrooms

The wind, coming to the city from far away, carries an unusual gift, but only a few sensitive people notice it, like those with hay fever, who sneeze because of pollen wafting from elsewhere.

One day, a wind with spores came from nowhere, so the mushrooms sprouted on the flowerbeds of the city streets. No one noticed, except for the little worker, Markovado, who was there every morning waiting for the tram.

This Marco Vado was not very comfortable with the city life: advertising signs, traffic lights, windows, neon signs, posters, pretending to attract attention, but he never stopped looking as if he were walking on a desert. On the contrary, a yellowed leaf hanging high on a branch, a feather tangled in a red tile, he does not miss; a gadfly on a horse, a moth hole on a table, a fig peel squashed on the sidewalk, Markovado does not fail to notice; the change of seasons, the desires of his heart and his own insignificant existence, he finds them all.

Thus, one morning, while waiting for the tram to take him to work at the company Sbav, Markovado noticed something peculiar near the stop sign: on the stone-paved and disinfected flower beds along the boulevard, in certain places on the tree tsubaki, there seemed to be bulging lumps, here and there slightly exposed underground round bodies.

He bent down to tie his shoes to get a better look: it was mushrooms, real mushrooms, sprouting in the center of town! For Markovaldo, the gray and impoverished world around him seemed to have become rich and fertile in an instant because of this unknown treasure. Moreover, there were still certain things to look forward to in life, apart from the hourly employee pay, the extra wage supplement and the family allowance.

The day was more distracting than ever, thinking about the mushrooms that only he knew, silently and slowly ripening their porous flesh in the dark earth, sucking water from the ground and rubbing through the surface, while he was there moving and unloading boxes and crates. "Just one night of rain," he said to himself, "and it will be ready for harvest." And he was eager to let his wife and six children know about the discovery.

I tell you, Markovaldo announced over a pitifully small dinner. Within a week we'll have mushrooms to eat! Great fried mushrooms! I promise you!

Then he excitedly explained to the younger children, who didn't know what mushrooms were, the beauty of each variety of mushroom, their delicious taste and the way they were cooked, so that his wife Dormitera could be dragged into the discussion. Because she always looked skeptical and indifferent.

Where are these mushrooms? The children asked. Tell us where the mushrooms grow!

In response to this question, Markovaldo stopped his excitement on the grounds of paranoia: Hey, as soon as I tell them where they are, they will go with the wild children they usually mix with, and then the news will spread throughout the community, and the mushrooms will be in someone else's pot! This speculation immediately filled the heart that was full of great love, worry, jealousy and indifference shut it up, and now he only longed for possession.

I know the location of the mushrooms, and I alone, and it will be your downfall if a word escapes from outside.

The next morning, as Markovaldo walked to the tram stop, he was filled with longing. He squatted on the flower bed and was relieved to see that the mushrooms had grown, but not much, and were still almost intact and hidden in the ground.

He just crouched there until he noticed someone standing behind him. He sprang to his feet and tried to act as if nothing had happened. A scavenger was leaning on a broomstick looking at him.

The scavenger in charge of this mushroom growing area is a young man wearing glasses, tall and thin, named Amadigi, has never been very friendly to Markovado. Perhaps it was because he was used to looking through those glasses on the tarmac, searching for every trace left by nature to be cleaned.

It was Saturday, and Markovado spent half the day near the flowerbeds, wandering around in a daze, his eyes far away from the scavenger and the mushrooms, while calculating how much longer they would take to grow.

It rained in the evening: Marco Vado was the only farmer in the city who jumped up and down with excitement at the sound of the rain. He got up and sat up in bed, waking up the whole family. It was raining, raining, inhaling the smell of damp dust and the fresh musty smell coming from outside.

Early Sunday morning, with the kids and a borrowed basket, Markovado rushes to the flowerbeds. The mushrooms were all there, standing straight and tall, their little hats raised high above the watery ground. Hooray! All immediately buried their heads and began picking.

Dad! Look how many that gentleman over there has picked! Little Michel said. The father picked up his head and saw that Amadeiji, who was standing next to them, was also holding a basket full of mushrooms.

Ah! Are you going to pick them too? The scavenger said. So they are really good? I picked some, but wasn't sure ...... there were bigger mushrooms growing on the avenue a little further down ...... Well, now I know, I have to go inform my relatives, they are discussing whether to pick... ...and strode away.

Marco Salvador could not say a word: there are even bigger mushrooms, and he did not even know. Watching a windfall just become someone else's. For a while he was almost dumb with rage, and then, as sometimes happens, a personal emotional breakdown made him suddenly generous. At that time, there were many people waiting for the tram, umbrellas dangling from everyone's arms as the weather was still unstable and humid. Hey! Would you people like to eat fried mushrooms tonight? Marco Vado shouted to the crowded crowd near the stop sign. There are mushrooms growing on the road! You come with me! Everyone gets a share! After that he followed Amadigi, while another group of people followed closely behind him.

Everyone found mushrooms, and those who didn't have baskets put them in open umbrellas. Some guy said: It would be great if we had a luncheon together! But in the end, everyone went back to their homes with their own mushrooms.

But they soon met again, on the same night, in the same hospital ward, when they came to have their stomachs pumped due to food poisoning: none of the poisoning was serious, because the number of mushrooms each one ate was not very large.

Markovado and Amadigi were lying in adjacent beds, staring at each other in anger.